God I love romance novels. The sex, the longing, the fact that the couple usually start out hating the sight of the other person’s face. And if it happens to be set in the Regency era in England or Scotland then just shut up and TAKE MY MONEY!
I was hanging out this morning and thinking about the category selections on Amazon and it just slapped me in the face. “Bitch, I am NOT a romance!”
There is NO way shape or form that I could ever try to list Blood and Hunger under the secondary category of “Romance” without the RWA Pink Fedora Mafia knocking down my door and cussing me out about crimes against the genre.
Then later I was looking at AMAZING pre-made romance ebook covers and thinking, “Wow, maybe I could just knock out a few quick romance ebooks just so that I can use those pretty pretty covers…” And I sat there trying to think up brilliant romance novel ideas and got… Nothing. I got nothing!
And that’s when it struck me. I don’t have a hope in hell of writing either a contemporary or historical romance any time soon. That’s almost all I read! But I can’t write it. What’s up with that?
Sure I can write steam and longing and gentleness. Teasing and sex and passion. But I can’t seem to be able to write a book about nothing BUT that. Where the whole book is about these two getting their crap together. I write romantic elements. And I was really bummed about it for a bit. But then I realized…
That’s totally ok.
I would love to be able to write full on romance novels but maybe my part is to simply be able to mindlessly love them. To devour them like candy and not have to think too hard about it.
I always thought that I might do a second genre under a pen name, and maybe 10 years from now I will. But being an author or a writer does not mean that you have to be able to write everything.
For now I’m a sword swinging, gun toting, round house kicking fantasy writer. And you know what?
I’m cool with that.