throwiethetowel

Yes.

Although I don't write many novels, I write almost entirely short stories (3k-8k words).

Why not?

Your search "frenula" did not match any products in: Kindle Store › Kindle eBooks.

It is clearly a market yet to be discovered. Here, how about instead, I write you a story about Frenulum?

The brooding entomologist frowned, sweat pooling on his brow as he pinned the moth on the table. His assistant was breathless at his side, awestruck by the beauty of the insect.

"These are supposed to be extinct..." she whispered, the excitement clear on her face.

She was right, they'd been extinct for hundreds of years. The Aztecs used to cultivate these things. Their long-silent temple walls spoke of the little bug with reverence, the moth had special status as a symbol of fertility.

"Clearly we were wrong." I replied, sliding the blade through the frenulum, separating its delicate wings. A small puff of grey dust floated away from its body, and my young assistant started sneezing uncontrollably. I watched her rock forward and back, chest heaving.

"Are you ok?" I asked as she fell to the floor, suddenly silent. She looked up from her kneeling position, catching my eyes.

"I'm...... Yesssssss." she hissed, a disturbing smile growing on her face as she reached for my belt...

Well I once used the euphemism "veiny bangstick" in an actual published story...

50 shades was a piece of Twilight fan fiction. She changed the names of the characters, and turned "vampire" into "billionaire" before shoving it onto the market. It's poorly written and obviously a bit of a hack job.

And it's -BRILLIANT-. I could sit here critiquing that book all day long, picking it apart, but the fact of the matter is it SELLS. I write what sells, and if hackjob billionaires spanking virgins is selling, I'm going to write it. It's proof positive that you don't have to be shakespear to make money at this, and for that, I will always be in 50 shade's debt ;).

Weirdest one was probably my stalker. Early on I wasn't very careful about my identity, and I was using a pseudoname that could be googled to an old discussion I'd had with some friends on the internet, and from there, to my email address.

The e-mails he was sending didn't bother me, but when "fan mail" showed up in my actual mailbox, I was more than a little sick inside. I'm still not sure how he got my address.

He sent me a few dozen letters to my penname, no return address, some of them getting a little aggressive (and full of quran quotes). It got bad enough I turned everything over to police, but nothing ever came of it.

I've since moved and I haven't seen a letter since. Still feel a little creepy adrenaline rush when I check the mail though...