Good Morning Lovelies. Today I'm going to share with you some deep dark secrets about why I write romance. Don't worry, nothing graphic in this post. I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately, my birthday is Friday, and well, thoughts are just a-popping in my brain.
I am a Man Magnet. Yes, you heard me. I attract men like flies to a dead corpse. Losers, drunks, bums, users, violent, scum suckers from the dregs of the bowels of the deepest pit of despair.
I don't know why. I'm really a very nice person. Perhaps that's why. Maybe they see in me a need to try and be redeemed. Maybe it's because I broke my teeth on historical romance way back in the 70's when men were rakes and libertines and could only be redeemed by perfect women. (Not that I'm perfect, far from it, but I do have some very nice qualities.) I don't know. Perhaps I was looking for my own rake to reform.
As I've gotten older, I pushed aside those bad boys and found very sane, very nice, perfectly amenable men to date. But they all had underlying baggage. Heavy duty baggage that airlines would charge triple to put on the plane. (I will admit I have my own issues to deal with, however, I have dealt with most of them and filed them away.)
Now some of you are probably wondering why my stories don't have murder and mayhem in them, why I don't kill my ex-darlings on the pages. Because secretly I'm a sappy romantic at heart. I cry at Hallmark commercials. I am a connoisseur of chick flicks. I love happily ever after. I was raised on the original Disney Princess model -- Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella. (Cinderella was my favorite and one of my ex's used to call me that on occasion.)
All my life, I think, I've been searching for the perfect man. Well, at least the perfect man for me. Oh sure, I've found some that were almost, but they always had that one thing that made me back off. I've been engaged four times, have planned four weddings, have bought three wedding dresses, have even gone so far as to print invitations. But I could never go through with it. Because something just wasn't quite right. (Remember how old I really am and four fiances is not all that many.)
Perhaps I was dreaming of the happily ever after and somehow I knew I wouldn't be happy. I was raised as a Catholic and for all my lapsing, I still believe in the institution of marriage that bonds two people until the end of their days. In sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, until death do us part. And I knew I would end up divorced, so I chose to forego the marriage AND divorce.
I write romance for the express purpose that someone I know (created) and love will find everlasting happiness with the man of her dreams. I write romance because I love a good love story. I love the longing, and the yearning, and the angst. Sure, all my heroines have obstacles to get over, some more so than others, but they always in the end, get their man. (And believe it or not, I am not in any of my female characters. I am in my male characters. Don't know why, it's just the way I write.)
I've been single for five years now. Monster Child's father really did me in. I've been focusing on my daughter, and my writing, and my parents for the last five years. I've given up on men because, well, fifteen times burned, always shy.
But you know, I still have hope. My fondest wish is to someday meet my soul mate, marry and live in bliss for the rest of my life. And isn't that why we read romance? For the ultimate wish -- happily ever after. And that's why I write it.
Tell me -- why do you write in your genre? Any secrets you want to share? I promise I won't tell.
PS I wrote Monday's post on the fly and drove myself crazy with the word license. I looked it up, finally, and there are actually two ways to spell it -- licence and license. You really don't know how much this drove me nuts.