When I started writing, I swore up and down I’d never be a romance writer. As an outdoors chick working in a primarily male dominated field, I avoided anything romance related in my life. No chick flicks. No Harlequin paperbacks. No sappy candlelit dinners with my hubby. So, I started up on a critiquing site and posted my first novel, The Glass Man – a hard-core adventure fantasy – or so I thought. The readers immediately talked about the romantic tension in the book, and I cringed. What? I didn’t write no stinking romance. Did I?
After finishing the Glass Man, I did some soul-searching. What floated my boat as far as literary works went? Vampires – definitely. Anything supernatural really, but why? What was it about them that captured my interest and held it from page one until the end? It hit me like a hammer to the forehead. The romance of it all, being swept up in the captivating eyes of a supernatural creature. Damn. That got me to thinking – could I write a compelling romance novel outside the fantasy genre?
I like a challenge and so my twisted imagination went to work. In a quiet corner of my living room where nobody could see, I started work on a new novel, Crossing Hathaway, about an outspoken computer technician who goes toe-to-toe with her eccentric boss. After a few chapters went through the my writing group, I had my answer. Apparently I can write romance. Huh? Never would have guessed. I have since admitted defeat and have almost completed the book in hopes of attracting an agent with it. I won’t be giving up my love of fantasy, but I’ll combine what I write well with my love of supes and will hopefully come out with some great combined works in the future.
Just do me a favor and don’t tell my hubby I want to grow up to be a romance novelist.