Why Write Romance? The Second Act.

I've been married for 16 years. Why then, return to a phase in my life -- the excitement of new, profound, life-altering love after all this time? Surely there are other experiences such as, well, having children and the many relationships I've forged along the way to explore, fictionalize and line up into neat little plot points.

The answer is, for me, there simply isn't any other state of human existence that causes so much joy and abject misery as falling in love. Scientists have parsed it down to a mutual pact, between two people, to ensure survival of the species. Simple, right?

Which brings me to the complicated thing screenwriters call the second act. Commercial fiction writers call it many things. Literary types are excused from sorting it out because, well, they're literary. The second act is the main chunk of the book where, once the premise has been introduced, a whole bunch of plot twists ensue: surprising, delighting and in some cases, scaring the reader until the whole thing erupts climatically very near the last page. The third act is when everything is tidied up, tossing the wrapping paper in the bin after Christmas. Stephen King is the maestro of the second act.

I write romances because falling in love, in all it's glory, despair and hairpin turns, makes a terrific second act.

Speaking of which, I'd better get back to work.