Romance: It's not all lace and muscles. Sometimes it's Hanes and stretch marks

I write romance novels. There, I said it. Not like it's a huge mystery, it's how I'm essentially branded, and will remain branded for the rest of my writing career I imagine. But had you had asked me six years ago if I wrote romance novels and I would have laughed in your face, wondering how one would possibly assume the girl with the thick black eye make-up and a constant playlist of Hard Rock and Metal (my favorite kind of  music) could possibly write a romance.

I was a fantasy writer, and sometimes I still sit in my desk chair, listening to music that stirs images of epic battles, glinting swords, and heroes of magic with tortured souls. I long to go back to those days where the worlds were molded and carved out by my imagination, and the characters were so oddly detailed that I have to sketch them out.

So how did I switch? Well, it started with a sub plot. The last fantasy book(s) I finished writing had a little bit of a love triangle in it. And by a little bit, I mean it was the secondary plot right next to the soul eating demon. Then came the futuristic, Romeo and Juliet-ish war story. Follow that with a couple of failed fantasy tale starts, and I came upon 'Heart Pulled to Pieces.'

Now, as I wrote this book, I felt really, really dirty about it. Why? Because I had this thing in my head, this idea of what a romance novel was. I saw the shirtless, insanely buff men, reaching out or holding on to the bosom bearing women who always have their eyes closed mid-sigh.  They were cheesy, bodice rippers filled with corny phrases and lots of ridiculous lusty moments. And if that wasn't enough to make me sit back and look at what I was doing, it was the stigma of romance writing many writers have in the community.

I got over it pretty quick though. Mostly because I avoid cheese as much as possible (though there is a lot of cheese in romance, and sometimes it's like trying to scrap it off of warm nachos.), I also like to throw in a lot of comedy in the form of dry humor and sarcastic observations. Plus, I prefer my protagonist's love interest flawed, with some personality flaw or habit that would be that 'he would be perfect except for' thing. I also like to have her more of an everyday girl, chubby and short, eats her emotions, tall and thin, so shy she can barely speak to people, and the thing she considers sexy is a new pair of cotton briefs.

I learned that, hey, sometimes that first kiss is not perfect but a screw up. That the guy can sometimes be the biggest moron she knows, and there are better choices, but she still can't help but fall for him. That maybe to the heroine, the perfect body is riddled with stretch marks and tattoos. The story can be real, and still leave your heart racing without it being overly corny. And it can be fun to write, so much so that they can be the longest books you've ever written, and after the last sentence you still want to keep going.

And you can do it while listening to hard rock or metal. Actually, I haven't figured out how to do that yet, but I'm getting there.