As you might know, I blog with a raucous group or writing pirates over on the Romance Writers Revenge, and last week the Gunner of the group asked us what we’re trying to accomplish when we sit down to write.
My first thought was that I want to tell a happy story that entertains the reader. Which is true. But then I thought again and realized the real reason I write Romance.
I’m trying to create the story I wish were reality.
We hear about wallflowers all the time. I don’t really qualify as I’m outgoing and love to mingle at a party. But as far as romance goes, I’ve spent most of my life invisible. Yes, I’ve had relationships, but as far as numbers go, it’s low.
I’ve spent most of my life wanting to be the pretty one who catches a guy’s eye across a crowded room. Or bumps into Mr. Right with a shopping cart and falls into a real life fairy tale. (Minus the singing animals. No singing chipmunks necessary.)
Well, these things have never happened and at my advanced age, I’m not about to hold my breath. But in my books, I can make these things happen. For the heroines anyway. It’s not just about the shy girl getting the hot guy. It’s about those moments. The first kiss at the end of the pier with nothing but moonlight and stars filling the sky. The slow dance with no music playing. The tuck of a wayward curl behind an ear.
That moment when you know it’s real and it’s not going away. The ones that set butterflies swirling, take our breath away, and shift our lives into something better. Something amazing.
That’s why I write Romance. Probably not the best reason, but I’ve always been too honest for my own good. If I can’t have the reality, I’ll write my own version on the page and share it with other women who might feel the same way I do.