Chick-lit-dicks

8 08 2013

It has long been known that chick-lit is not the easy way in to being an author. Admittedly there are some shockingly bad examples which have somehow escaped the slush pile – often in response to a publisher’s need to have something out there “on-trend”. Self-publishing is also home to a number of books that would benefit from a spell-check, an editor’s green pen or a lit match.

However, chick-lit at its best is good. Better than good. It is structured yet creative, offering the reader an escape without forcing them to think too hard or reach for a dictionary. Feeding enough data to spark the imagination without being patronising, and they don’t have to have to lead the reader by the nose to the next set-piece. It’s not all muscles and passionate embraces.

I love the concept of detective stories in the chick-lit arena. Chick-lit-dicks I call my heroines. It is a bit tongue in cheek but it is what they are. Chick-lit detectives, private dicks, brains for hire, crimes to solve, helping people who need it. And if they find the necessary romance along the way? Well, it comes on their own terms and not just because some pecks get flexed or they fall for the “Why Miss B, you’re beautiful under those glasses” line.

Chick-lit, like any genre, needs regular reinvention. It’s not all sex and shopping. My heroines do indulge in both but they also make a difference to the people they meet. Not just chick-lit with a heart, chick-lit with dicks!