I remember when I first started reading romance novels. I was thirteen and my aunt had given me a stack of Silhouette Desires to keep me busy for the summer. It is funny; I can even remember the title of the very first one I read. Were you to ask me the name of the author, I would draw a blank. I was not interested in authors then.
I can remember the thrill I got from reading that first steamy love scene, which in hindsight was not very steamy, and knowing that this is what I desired in life. I wanted the love scenes and everything that made the hero a hero. I needed the heroine's confidence and togetherness. These were the components of my dreams, of how I wished my future to play out.
With each book, I fell in love with the leading man wanting desperately to be the woman that he could not let go. I read each book looking for that happy conclusion and once reaching it, craving the next.
This was how I spent my teenage years. I was not popular and dating was a non-existent proposition. I lived vicariously through whatever modern romance I could lay my hands on. In doing this, I also found ideas and answers to questions I was not comfortable asking. Questions I am not sure I would have received an answer to if I could have asked.
Romance novels opened doors for me that I never dreamed happening. Because of these books, as an adult, I am a prolific reader. I read anything and everything, which has given me a base of information to draw on. This base of information allows me to carry on an intelligent conversation whether the situation is business or social.
As corny as it may sound, romance novels also gave me a list of qualities to strive for both in myself and in the people I chose to have around me. Some of those same qualities I try to instill in my children, hoping that they will make confident adults, as well as retaining some of the hopeful romantic that became so inherent in my nature.
I made the decision in my youth that I wanted to become a novelist. More specifically, a romance novelist. Those who teach the future writers of the world tell you to write about what you know. So in taking this advice to heart, I ran out there to experience romance and love.
I was so eager to fall in love and live the life I had been reading about that it did not occur to me that there could be a wrong choice in my search. In the books, your first love is your only love and it burned forever. It does not work that way - hence my first husband. Major wrong choice - enough said.
Therefore, here I was with a strong desire to write romance, however, I found, to understand the desire that burned between leading couples and being able to express it were two very different things. Still clutching the advice of those who teach, back into the world I went.
As things go, life happens. Life being what it is, writing was pushed to the background. Nevertheless, the nuances that I had learned from romance novels remained.
It took me until I reached my thirties to find the right choice. I was not aware of even making the right choice at first. The realization hit me by surprise while indulging in my favorite pastime - reading.
Once again, in my life, an epiphany is the result of a romance novel. This particular one was a lusty, historical piece based in Medieval England. Complete with a peer of the realm and a young miss of common blood.
As I sat reading this enjoyable romp in time, a strange sense of the familiar edged along my brain. At first, I chalked it up to the possibility of having read this book before. However, no, I could not have. The book was a new release. Them it dawned on me what the familiarity was.
The hero of the book was my own personal hero, my right choice, the man I am currently married to. Not only did the author have his physical description to an almost perfect match, she had endowed her hero with all of the qualities that I had spent my life looking for in a man. The same ones I had found in my husband without even realizing it.
There is a large population of critics out there who consider romance books “fluff” and maybe they are. However, there are millions of the female persuasion (and more than a few men) which do not agree with that assessment. I am one of them.
Romance novels answer questions that we are afraid to ask. They give us ideas whether it is spicing up your sex life or changing your point of view. They enhance the way we dream. They let us know that we are not the only hopeless or even hopeful romantics out there.
Romance novels provide an escape to a world where we are unconditionally loved despite our flaws. They provide hope that humanity is not doomed despite what the evening news says. Surely, we, the human race, cannot be all bad if there is still a breed of people who dream, write, and read of love and humor.
If I can find the hero of my heart in this great big world, others must be able to do the same if they have not done so already. Who knows, now that I have a little knowledge under my belt, I might finally be able to write that book that will fire some teenage girl's dreams.
Just maybe I will become that romance novelist, yet. If not, well, I at least get to live with the hero from one.
