The Travesty of a Romance Novel

The first big ass, horribly written, should never have gone on submission, I'm so sorry agents novel was... a paranormal romance with roughly thirteen points of view.  Any shifter race one could imagine made an appearance. The protagonists didn't meet until chapter eight. When they finally had a chapter or two alone how they ended up there was highly improbable (which, for paranormal takes some doing).  There might maybe have been a scene or two that danced too close to the lines of bestiality (ew). Oh, and the word count? 150k.

I know. I know. I know.

I'm not proud.

The root concept I still like. The protagonists I still like. Heck, even a few of the shenanigans scenes are redeemable. The story... erm... When "It's too complicated" was the nicest bit of feedback CPs could muster, it finally penetrated my thick skull that it was time to bury that puppy and never allow it to be bazombified again.

Contrary to popular perception, a good romance is pretty freakin' hard to write.

Pretty much every romance novel I've ever penned (all of ten or so) languishes in the dark ether of a digital file cabinet backed up to a thumb drive hanging from a lanyard in my office. Will any part(s) of them ever be resurrected?  Ehhhhmmmm, mebbe.