I once wrote a very successful, very erotic Vampire series but people are mad
Writing under a throwaway to protect myself from rabid fans.
I wrote a very successful series about very emotionally stable and mature vampires who definitely do not suffer from borderline personality disorder. The series spanned decades, millennia even, and my vampires sexily hissed and b-b-banged across every imaginable historical period (except World War 2 because that really kills the vibe and all the romantic fireplaces were bombed and it's really hard to get in the mood with all that noise of explosions, the desperate last cries of women and children etc).
I don't understand where it all went wrong. I was on top of the world, in my Victorian outfit. I signed autographs for weeks on end with a quill. Everyone thought I was fantastic. I'd finally emerged from my literary cocoon as a fully-formed writer of acclaim and unmatched skill. And since I had reached my final form, I decided to distill and purify my work even more by firing my editor.
But the fans seem to dislike this purer, higher-quality work. Now from what I understand, Walter White actually profited from offering his customers a higher-quality product of Meth. Books are nearly identical in their effects on the mind-- while Meth seems to rot holes in the skin, literature only rots holes in the soul. But I disgress... (it's actually one of my great stylistic signatures) Why won't people accept this higher-quality product?
And why is my editor now living in a cardboard box outside my sprawling, gothic home? She's ruining the landscaping.