or Why is a Man writing Women’s Fiction?
When I embarked on the project that became SILK – a big, sexy, sensational novel largely for, and about, women – I considered using a female nom de plume, such is the gender divide in contemporary publishing. Women, we are led to believe, write for women, and men write for men. Women write chicklit, sagas, romances, while men write thrillers, or poignant memoirs about their fascinating collection of football cards.
In the event, however, I decided to be male, summoning the ghosts of Harold Robbins and Sidney Sheldon in my defence. I fully expect readers and critics to ask “But how can you – a man – possibly know how women think/feel/act/have sex?”. Well, I’ve spent a lifetime observing them, and you know what? We’re not really that different.
I hope you enjoy SILK. I hope it makes you laugh, makes you cry, makes you think and turns you on. I hope it transcends gender, and genre. I’d love to hear your feedback – not least because I’m currently working on the next book! Finally – a “blockbuster” was originally a bomb that could wipe out an entire city block. The explosions in SILK are of a more enjoyable nature.