My novels are fluff. Extreeemely intelligent, insightful, articulate and well-written fluff, of course, but fluff nonetheless.
Now why, I hear you cry, would you waste your razor-sharp intellect and your dazzling literary genius on writing fluff?
Because I like it. Writing those novels was pig-in-mud time, for me, and if I could get my scattered wits together, I’d be writing another one as we speak. Even though Smashwords and Kindle never did cough up a brass razoo they owed me on the first one, and I didn’t even publish the second one.
But oh my goodness it was fun!