Why I Write Romance
Why I Write Romance
Checking the writer’s pulse:
Mood: Gloomy, but with the possibility of reprieve due to lunch.
Music: Bruce Springsteen Devils and Dust
Book: John Gardner On Moral Fiction
Drink: Decaf Coffee
Pulse: 78
Shoe Size: 9.5
I read a list once that stratified writers, with poets floating dreamily at the top and writers of fiction graduated down through mystery, speculative fiction, bloggers, writers of personal memoir that start with a favorite story of grandfather, writers of shopping lists, and romance writers. I’m not one to hold a grudge. I would just like to remind the unpublished writers of very important literary fiction that romance writers are still writers, and that means we throw everything into the pot. We do not forget and we’ll probably use your snotty comment against you at some point in the future. Like now, for instance. And we’ll no longer be doing your laundry or fixing your lunch, either, so go back to your garage.
That first paragraph no doubt caused all but the romance writers to leave the room. Good! It’s just us. We can tell the truth, right? So why are we writing romance? Anyone who is writing money, oops, I meant romance because they want money, you can leave now. I’m not talking to you.
So, how many of us are left? How many of us are writing romance because these are the stories that keep pouring out of our heads when we write? How many of us have written speculative fiction and mystery and literary fiction and even god forbid poetry and have gone back to romance? We’re down to the hard core, now. We’re the pan drippings when the rest of the world has rendered their pork butt of fictional subjects. Okay, not a really successful metaphor. But that’s writers for you. We try to find metaphors like magicians practice palming coins out of kid’s ears. (And for anyone who plans to use that metaphor against me in the future? Let me just say now I’m kidding about the pork butt, so don’t be an ass.)
When children begin to tell stories, what are they doing? They’re making a safe reality where they can explore ideas. I read an article from Tin House about the first stories children tell. They all follow the same structure. The child is the protagonist. She’s lost and alone in a dark woods. Then she finds a friend, and she isn’t alone any longer. The end.
The dark woods is different, of course, depending on the kid, but they are all dark woods and we all understand what that means. This story structure makes perfect sense to a romance writer. Our characters are alone, and then they find a friend and they aren’t alone any longer. They’re lost, and then they’re found. They’re in danger, and then they’re safe. They’re lonely, and then they’re happy. At the end, they are safe and warm and they have a home and someone to love. This is as basic a human story as exists in the world. Frankly, nothing else matters too much to me. When we get down to it, this is what I care about. And these stories? They’re romance.
What I want for the people around me is the same thing I want for my characters. I want them safe and happy, with a home and someone to love. I look around my clinic waiting room, the bookstore and the diner, and I know this is not reality for many people. But I want this for them and for me and for you, so badly I can feel the desire in every drop of blood moving through my heart. So I write romance, stories where people who are lost can find a friend and live happily ever after.
Of course the world matters. After WWI, literature changed. The industrial revolution changed fiction. War always does. So does totalitarianism and the suppression of free speech. But dig deep down into the bones of human desire? We’re lost in a dark woods, and we need a friend. And my friend, I have a story for you.
But are these stories really romances? This question has come up recently, when some of the darlings who wrote reviews of my last book mentioned I am veering off course even more than usual. Well, I do write romances. I write love stories, and when I write them, I feel a great tenderness and hopefulness for all the sweeties who read my books. I want all of you to be in love, to have a friend, to be at home and safe, to not be lost in a dark woods. And if you are lost, I want you to believe, like I do, that there’s hope. Hope for redemption, hope for a friend so you won’t be alone, hope for a home and safety and love.
Stories should say something to us about being human. They should make us think, make us feel, make us look at the world, and each other, a little differently. Stories should be life-giving. That’s what I’m trying to do. Trying, and not yet succeeding, but I have hope! The next one will be better. I’m working hard. The next story might change my life. It might change yours. I have hope.