I never would have guessed that waking up to a naked drunk in my bathtub and a heroin junkie on my couch would be the eventual inspiration for my first novel about a morphine-addicted Civil War veteran looking for redemption, but life is funny like that.

Yes, I was that good girl who ran with the wrong crowds. Call it “poor lad syndrome” or whatever, but I liked the sad and bad boys until I married one. Oops. Not so much fun after all. Yet there was that still, small voice in my head convincing me that even in the ugliest of situations there was hope for people—even ones like me.

I didn’t want to write because I didn’t want to fail, but I found failure anyway. In life there’s no escaping it. Everything I vowed I’d never do, I did. Every last bit of self-righteousness was smashed…

Stop Shaming Guilty-Pleasure Reads

Blogger and Self-Described Book Nerd Olivia Lanaras on Labeling Books and Shaming Readers

For every one article written about the love of a guilty pleasure book like 50 Shades of Grey or Twilight, there are two that slam and shame it.

“The writing is just not up to par, the characters are unbelievable, and the sex verges on the comical.”
“Think of it as the “Downton Abbey” of bondage, designed neither to menace nor to offend but purely to cosset the fatigued imagination.”
“Fifty shades of bad writing”

Without a doubt, the authors behind these works are not the second coming of Jane Austen. I have tried reading them and just couldn’t do it. In fact, most of the lines are absolutely cringe-worthy. However, labeling these works as invalid or unworthy of being considered works of literature is not only…