Fallin’ in Love

Isn’t funny how falling in love again with something makes everything better?
I know. All those things make this a little too vague.
For months I’ve been trudging through the world of writing and romance and what used to be my dream but suddenly seamed more like a nightmare. For the first time in memory I let myself think that being published wasn’t going to happen.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s that I let doubt demon win. Or that I was tired. Or that I was sick. Or that I couldn’t find a book I loved, not even the ones on my keeper shelf.
I don’t know.
But for whatever reason, that’s what was happening.
And then I rediscovered my joy for the genre.
It started with Karen Templeton. For a week I thought she was just a genius writer who understood the heartbeat of romance and publication. (Okay, so she is all that!)
But then yesterday a couple strange things happened. (There goes that vague thing thing again.)
I picked up a book. Not just any ol’ book, but one I’d thrown back in the TBR pile after one chapter. I don’t know why I’d thrown it back in the pile. Usually if I don’t like a book it gets shoved in the give away or trade box. But not this time.
I’d tossed it back in TBR even though I really hated the book. It was totally unbelievable and the heroine was a wimp and the hero was a jerk. I mean I REALLY did not like this book.
Until I picked it up again yesterday and started reading and realized how cool the plot line was. And soon I was noticing how that wimpy heroine wasn’t really wimpy. And the jerky hero was just responding to a very bad situation. And before I knew it, I was reading the book and enjoying it.
So then, on a whim, I picked up another book, this one in the trade box. And yep. I liked it too. So I picked up another and yep, you guessed it.
Suddenly my scimpy TBR pile was full again.
And then the best thing ever happened.
The doubt demon disappeared and I looked at my 10 rejected stories and got excited about their potential and my potential. For the first time in a long time I WANTED to write. Really write. Write the stories I love. The stories about HEA. The stories about a guy, a girl, maybe a baby, and falling in love and wanting and needing and feeling like all hope is lost but then learning in the end that love really does conquer all.
And then I realized that even though a lot of people poo-poo the stories I love for that PollyAnna look on life, I like that look on life.
And HEA isn’t PollyAnna anyway. Trust me, I know. My grandma’s been married for almost 70 years. She tells me all the time that marriage is hard work and compromise and respect and love. And she and my grandpa are still totally in love with each other. Shoot when I was a kid, they chased each other around the house. Every once in a while, we’d hear a smack and Grandma’s “Oh Odell, stop that!” and we’d know ick, they were making out.
I don’t know what happened over the past few weeks to make me fall out of love with writing love stories. But I sure am happy I fell in love with love again.

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