There were a lot of great words today. Kindness and Knowledge and all sorts of things with maturity and depth. There’s wisdom and life lessons out there on other people’s blogs.
Unfortunately for you, I just got off the phone with my sister, and that pretty much took us both back to junior high, and I’m still sugared-up from an impulse trip to Baker’s Candies. So, today’s blog post is about Kissing… and stuff. **hee hee**
So, the book I’m working on–the one I’m posting here on my blog–is somewhere in the soft-science fiction to fantasy range. It’s the story of two cultures reconciling after a long–and sometimes vicious–war. My main characters are the queen who inherited the winning side, and an ex-soldier turned resistance fighter from the losing side. In a bid to foment rebellion, and expecting his own execution, he has married her. (Lepterians practice unilateral marriage. He married her. She didn’t marry him. It’s a thing.)
And then, she also didn’t execute him, so he’s pretty much stuck.
In a lot of ways, they’re vehicles for the cultures around them. And their romance, such as it is, is a parallel to the cultures coming together. Awkward as hell.
And I’m not exactly a romance writer. The romantic high point of my last novel was my main character’s husband helping her block a hostile takeover. **sigh**
And at some point… I can’t escape this–she’s going to have to kiss him.
**shudder.** Maybe if I just throw in a few more executions. You know, like at the very beginning? “She executed him, and then he died. The end.”
Honestly, I’m not sure where the problem is, but I’m a little squeamish. Or nervous. Or… something. I’m not sure whether that’s just that I haven’t written a lot of romantic scenes before, or if there’s some deep seated prejudice against romance (based old-school bodice-rippers and cigarette smoke, which I cannot separate in my mind) or if my muse is just telling me that I’m doing something wrong with this.
So, any thoughts or advice? Some of you are really good at this. What do you think?