Romance 101 - The Princess and the Eviscerated Bowel

Sometimes, I feel like I’m horrible at being a girl. Presently, it’s because...well...I don’t like romance novels. I know, shock, horror. The horror and thriller writer doesn’t like romance novels. I’ve always found them horribly trite and boring. It’s just sex wrapped up in an “Omg tru wuv!!!” jacket with a “What the fuck” hat perched jauntily on its head. Listing to the left a little. Maybe with a feather.

The thing is, I've been bumming around Smart Bitches Trashy Books for a majority of today, and I have a hankering to read a romance novel. Which I normally despise. There's no real reason. The inner five year old sitting in my chest is kicking at my ribcage with her plastic pretend heels that she got at the two dollar store, mum's makeup smeared on the right side of her face, where she fell asleep on the couch and left big, trailing lipstick and drool marks. She's looking rather insistent, actually. Saying something along the lines off "I wanna be a princess! I'm a PRINCESS, READ A STORY ABOUT A PRINCESS AND A HERO OR I WILL EVISCERATE YOUR BOWELS." She'd do it, too. The last part of that sentence was said in a rather satanic tone of voice.

I've been reading books from Luna Fantasy, recently. All women writers. I had no idea, until today, that they were an offshoot of Harlequin. I keep giving the books the benefit of the doubt, because the first one I read, Urban Shaman, was a fucking good read. And I just found out that there's sequels! Two of them! Which I don't own! To Amazon I go! The others, though...well. I've read three. And they were rather promising. And The Compass Rose was kind of fun, really. I adored the two main characters, right up until everyone started marrying each other.

I don't like romance for romance's sake. Take Benighted, for example. Again, another book I adore. Why? Because the romance was believable. Kit Whitfield created a world I could believe in, and then had the heroine completely freak when he discovered who the man she'd flirted with at the bar was. Just. Yes. Yes a million times yes. REAL CHARACTERS, PLEASE. That is ALL I ask for.

Apparently, however, it is rather hard to deliver. Every time I pick up a book, there's something in it that makes me want to throw it against a wall. I think it might be because I get irritated with the romance aspect. A lot of the things -I- write have romance in them, but it's a background thing. I don't really understand the need to have your character getting laid every five seconds.

Anita Blake, I'm looking at you.

Also, on the batshit insane front, Anne Rice, who we all know has discovered religion, is writing another Lestat novel. I wonder if this one with have viscous liquid and arrows of lust. Because it if does, I think I might just have to fall over and die. I couldn't get past the first half of Queen of the Damned, because I couldn't stop laughing.

Of course, I've strayed from the original topic, once again. My point is, romance novels sicken me, and I want to read one.

Also, for the curious (hah! As if there were any curious!), I will post some writings up on my lj. Gimme a second. Hoorah. Blogger is unhelpful in regards to show-hide links. Wankers.


So, have the first two chapters of a novel in progress. I recently picked this story up again. I'd forgotten how much fun it was to write. Ricker, the main character, actually belongs to Bard, who kindly consented to let me borrow him. <3 *smooshes her into a million tiny pieces.* Luca, Marcos, Eddie and Lauren belong to her too. Such FUN characters.

Anyway, off I toddle!