I’ve been thinking about the choices I’ve made as a writer. My first attempt at fiction revolved around glitz and glamour, which wasn’t such a big surprise, since I started out reading my mother’s Barbara Taylor Bradford and Sidney Sheldon books. Before long, I was reading V.C. Andrews, Sally Beauman, and Dean Koontz. With Koontz, I found happiness and I was a huge fan for many years. Then I started reading category romance and I was hooked on love.
One of the reasons I’ve always liked Koontz is his ability to write into his books a very genuine affection between his lead characters. He often writes romance into his stories and for that I’ve always been grateful.
Somewhere in here, I read a lot of fantasy and science-fiction, but no particular author stands out, with the exception of C.J. Cherryh.
I read tons of historical–historical novels and historical romances–and I can remember a few Jayne Taylor books and more than a few books set during and after World War II. But the author who stands out the most, the author who became my absolute favorite historical writer of all time was Johanna Lindsey.
About the time high-school ended, I was reading more romance than anything else.
But I didn’t automatically start writing romance. My next story was a romantic thriller. And the one after that was too. And then I finally decided I should get serious and I started major revisions of that last book and made it a died-in-the-wool romance.
These days though, I’ve been getting restless. My reading has tapered off, and romance isn’t as engrossing as it used to be. Despite this, I still prefer to write books with a strong focus on the hero and heroine’s relationship, and the thought of writing something without romance in it at all makes me not want to write at all. So I think it’s clear, my problem isn’t with romance, it’s with reading.
I don’t want to read the way I used to. I could lose myself in a book only a few years ago, but today, I feel like reading is a struggle. I find myself wanting to say it’s just a phase I’m going through, which might be true, but how stupid does that sound? Just going through a phase… What is this, a pre-mid-life crisis or something?
How could I go from totally loving to read, from spending every spare moment I have reading, to barely reading at all? To not even wanting to read?
I want to know the answer to that question, but it’s not here. I don’t know.
I’m going to have to stop thinking of my books as romances and realize they’re just books. Books I want to read, after I finish writing them. I’ve strangled myself with the conventions of a genre I don’t feel like I even know any longer. I’ve let rules lead me astray.
I’ve given in to the need to write the perfect romance, when I should be concentrating on writing the best novel I can write.
I am not a romance writer. I’m a writer who writes romance novels. I have so many ideas, so many stories, and to limit myself to only one genre of fiction seems like the easy way out. Learn one thing and learn to do it well.
How boring.
Why not learn many things, and learn to do them all well?