Believe it or not, I’m not going to write about the upcoming Christmas holiday! I just returned from a writer’s retreat with three fabulous women. We ate (thanks, Susan), we drank (thanks, Laura B.), and we laughed (thanks, Laura A.). And we got some writing done.
I have to admit, I’m in a bit of a slump. Coming off my year-and-a-half break from fiction, I can’t seem to find my stride. But…I did get some words written, and more importantly, I had a great time with friends I hadn’t seen in way too long. Life’s about relationships, and I’m glad we took the time to spend together.
So here’s to making time with friends and catching your breath before the holiday madness. And to seventy degrees in December!
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!
I intend to keep this short and sweet. America’s Thanksgiving holiday is not all about food. It’s a wonderful time to pause, reflect, and feel gratified for life’s blessings.
I’m thankful for my family and friends, for my health and the health of those I love, and every day I spend on earth. Nothing in this life is guaranteed, so I’m going to spend time with loved ones and really appreciate what matters in life.
I wish the same for you, no matter where you are.
Enjoy the day!
It’s the age old argument. Is romance real literature?
According to Washington Post writer Justin Wm. Moyer, romance is”formulaic with fill-in-the-blank qualities.” His recent comments expressed in the article about the plagiarizing case against Laura Harner sparked a firestorm of controversy in the romance community over his generalization of the genre.
The truth is, romance is a billion dollar business catering mostly to women. Romance is no more formulaic than the mystery, suspense. or science fiction genres, but you rarely hear diatribes on the worthlessness of those stories. I write romance. I read romance. And I can appreciate the work behind a well-written love story. I wish everyone could.
Love makes the world go round. When people lie on their death bed, they don’t want co-workers or acquaintances around–they want their loved ones–husbands, wives, lovers, children, family, and friends. These relationships are what matters in life–all that matters in life, so I become confused when books that delve into the making of said relationships are bashed as worthless.
I suppose Justin Wm. Moyer, upon his deathbed, will feel gratified while surrounded by stacks of newsprint. May that same pile of print keep him warm at night.
What are your views of romance?