Why I write romance?
Good question and I’m not sure I can answer it. I suppose I could blame it on a tender-hearted muse, because it seems no matter how one of my stories starts, it ends up with romance in it. True love. Soul mate. That one and only. One man for one woman. That one that makes you complete, feel whole. How many of us openly or secretly yearn for that? I’m not talking about sex. That exists on an entirely different, strictly physical, level, even though it is a necessary ingredient for romance. The need to procreate? No, again. That can be obtained by accident or carelessness or even deliberate design without a smidgen of romance or love connected to it. The concept my muse believes in is the soul mate, that one and only that makes you feel complete and whole.
In It’s Still Tomorrow, as soon as Sara came to mind, I just had to have a man for her, not that she wasn’t strong enough to deal alone with the evil after her in the mystery I had going. As her character began developing, she’d lead such a lonely life I just had to give her some happiness. Though she’d shied away from relationships and tried as hard as she might to convince herself she could be content without a man, my muse and I knew her heart yearned for someone to love who would love her back, not go screaming to the hills to escape her weirdness. Dem, of course, had to be something special. After all, how many men could cope with living with a woman who, among other quirks, said things on impulse that turned out to be glimpses into the future? For his sake, as well as to save her the heartache when he decided she was too much to cope with, she blocked their attraction to one another. Did I mention she’s a witch? Regardless of her powers, of course, my muse and I saw a way around that.