Sandy Supposes....

I'm a Reluctant Romancer

War Chest Wednesday! From the vault...

Is there a form or genre in writing you're afraid to try? What about it scares you or causes apprehension?                 

         I'm not afraid to write in this certain genre, I am reluctant. It has never appealed to me, and I cannot imagine myself pursuing it, or dipping my toes into its water. I'm not willing to bare myself. All right, enough of the innuendos. I am referring to romance/erotica.

         When I think of this genre, I see Harlequin-brand dime store paperbacks with tired, predictable covers of women with décolletage, and muscle-bound men. I once joked that the males were based upon that male model, what's-his-name. They always had flowing locks. and powerful-looking physiques. Just the hair colour, or period dress was altered.

         All the stories followed the same old script; a man and a woman began their acquaintance loathing each other only to fall inescapably, maddeningly in love. Changing the location, the historical time frame, and the names somehow created an original tale. As I said, these books were not my ideal reading material, but friends and family members of the female persuasion ate them up.

         I found the wording for the intimate physical act, okay, sex, made me titter. Words like 'thrusting', 'throbbing', 'heaving' were thinly veiled descriptions. The bosoms were inevitably heaving. The manhood inevitably throbbed. It just seemed so artificial. Who doesn't partake of a little nookie? Ya, there are so many euphemisms for that.

          Maybe it's just me and my somewhat biased opinion, but these romance stories lacked great writing. The considerable emphasis was placed on the steamy sex, or the intention of steamy sex. The character development was shallow. Do they intentionally hope to titillate? Was there a storyline?

         Recently, I flew across the country in a jam-packed plane. Sitting next to me, or close enough since the aisle could best be covered in the word microscopic, was a middle aged woman who chose to read an e-novel via her cell phone screen. I must admit I've never witnessed this before. Even the larger phones are not close to the size of a book, or a tablet. Her particular handheld phone was of modest proportions. She opted for humongous font size, and thus only a few words were illuminated on the screen at any one time. I soon noticed that she was either an extremely slow reader, or one who savoured each and every word as it appeared, and lingered. I realized, or surmised that she was reading one of the aforementioned type of stories, a romance. Those over-used words 'throbbed' and 'heaved' hovered in bold black. All I could wonder was how enduring her battery could be. Oh, and at her pace, the climax built agonizingly slowly.