That DIY ethos particularly applies to Chocolate Friday, which she self-published as an experiment through her own company, UrbanKind Press. Of the book's 3,000-copy print run, she says, "I made my money back and then some. Some people might think it's backwards: Because here you are published [with Harlequin], and you want to self-publish. But I wanted to see what the process was from the bottom up, from when I first put it in the typewriter to getting it to finished product."
Her entrepreneurial drive extends to in-home marketing, networking through friends, and online forums. And she's not shy about public speaking, of course ("I was a trial lawyer"). After such presentations, "it turns to sisterhood time," she says, which amounts to research for future projects. Romance tends to be tightly outlined and structured, and Martin-Arnold says, "My stories come from bits and pieces of life that I fit into that structure. Truth is stranger than fiction; if you just pay attention, you see the oddest things. Once I find a good conflict, I try to build a story around that."
Belisle, David
As far as black romance writers
go, Edwina Martin-Arnold
(pictured here in her restaurant, Philadelphia Fevre) is about
the only game in town.
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One such conflict, widely reported following recent census data, is the widening class and education gap between marriageable black men and women. The latter outnumber the former on college campuses and at grad schools, and then into the white-collar workplace life. For this reason, the dating gap is a recurrent point of conversation during sisterhood time. "That's constantly a problem," says Martin-Arnold.
Thinking back to those days when she and her husband—now happily married 20 years—were dating in college (and often dining at Philadelphia Fevre), she recalls the same phenomenon: "Your dating pool was limited." Then, as now, Martin-Arnold was a striver. Raised in Spanaway, she attended college at the University of Washington and law school at the University of Puget Sound before meeting a similarly ambitious black guy.
She recalls there was more of a stigma against a black woman dating across color lines on campus than there is now. As she's realized through her kids, "All of that has really changed." She also notes that Sandra Kitt, one of Harlequin's very first black authors, made a specialty out of a formerly taboo subject, writing frequently about interracial romance.
Today, among her friends, Martin-Arnold advises thusly: "If they're open [about dating], there are a lot of men out there." Yet she is none too patient with women who passively gripe about the situation. "A lot of them, they're bitter. If I weren't with my husband, I'd have no problem getting a man—because of my attitude." Just like the heroines in her books.
The dating gap may also figure in terms of industrywide demand. Says Glenda Howard, "I think that is part of the need to show you can have successful relationships, you can have successful marriages. Sometimes, in the romance novel, he doesn't have to be a white-collar worker. It can be a blue-collar guy who gets the girl who works in the white-collar field. We just try to show these kinds of relationships can work."
Though Martin-Arnold is clearly coming from an educated, buppie demographic, Howard thinks her work is in keeping with tradition. "From its inception, from when these romance novels were first written, the characters were aspirational," she says. "We always wanted them to be professional, own their own companies, have these wonderful jobs and careers, [visit] these wonderful vacation spots. Consumers were really drawn to these types of books, because you really don't see a lot of this portrayed in the media."
Romance is supposed to be optimistic, after all, with a strong element of wish fulfillment. Not that Martin-Arnold wants to be writing a black version of Dynasty, she cautions: "I really struggle to be realistic. I have two or three [friends] I depend on to keep it real."
She also meets with a writers' group whose three other members happen to be black. Should a new spot become available, she says, "We're open to anyone" of any color. It remains to be seen if the romance industry will embrace the same policy.
bmiller@seattleweekly.com
