I wrote a romance.
Let me let that sink in for a moment.
I. Wrote. A. Romance.
In fact, everything I write is romance. Sometimes it’s snarky, sometimes it’s dark, sometimes it’s light-hearted and fun, but at the heart of everything I write, there’s a happily ever after coming. (Well, except for this one.)
Here’s what’s really funny. I am the least romantic person I know—possibly alive. Even when I told my mom my book was being published she goes, “You, who has intimacy issues, wrote a romance?”
Yes, Mom, I did.
To be fair, my characters have been known to have them too.
This is now non-romantic I am: One year for Valentine’s Day when my husband and I were dating, he got me something sweet and romantic. I bought him a battery for his car. I also installed it myself. That actually sounds way cooler than it is because the truth of the matter was I worked at the parts store so I got it at a discount, and since I worked at the parts store, installing batteries was a common occurrence for me. I was not stepping outside my comfort zone with that one.
Given my less-than-stellar record, now you can see why it’s kind of funny that I write romance.
That said, some of my romantic stuff has even been known to induce a few tear drops from people. In fact, one of my beta readers for Virtue of Death (coming soon from Hot Tree Publishing) cried both times she read it, even though she knew what was coming the second time. (I take that as the ultimate compliment.)
Here’s the thing. Romance may be incredibly out-of-character for me. It’s not out-of-character for the characters in my stories. I know what’s romantic, I just don’t like to be. But just because I don’t like to exude romance doesn’t mean the people I create can’t. In fact, the people I create are done so with the sole purpose to be romantic. That is just one of many reasons fiction is so fun.