Okay, don't roll your eyes. No, I'm not shamelessly kissing editor or powers-that-be butt here. I swear. I've just really been thinking a bunch about who I want to be as an author and what direction I may want to head since, really, my writing career is in its infancy (though I'm not!) I want to be prepared in this flip floppy publishing world. No pants down. No rug yanked. No left behind wishing I'd had some forsight.
So I've stewed. And thought. And dreamed. And mulled. And what it boils down to is that I feel like destiny grabbed me by some random body part - I won't guess which - and put me right where I'm supposed to be. Here. At Superromance. And, I'm pretty darn happy with it.
You see, I LOVE Harlequin.
Okay, not in a weird way.
Just in a nostalgic, cozy way.
Because like many of you, Harlequin, along with Mills and Boon, was my first taste of romance. My grandmother and her sister traded paper sacks of Harlequins every week, so it was natural that as a reader, my interest was piqued by those oodles of books. And not to mention that my grandmother took me every week to the library - she happily went her way toward the adult section while I piddled around the shelves of the children's section wondering if I could possibly be happy reading Those Happy Golden Years for the umpteenth time. Finally, one day I picked up one of her books. I'll never forget it. It was a medical and the heroine wore a cape and cute little nurse's cap. I was fascinated. So I snuck and read it. Yeah. A twelve year old wondering what in the heck an Alfa Romeo Spider was, not to mention a few other things that "wowed" me. LOL.
I was hooked.
Then I found The Thornbirds. Oh, the angst. The yearning. The delicious forbidenness of it all.
And then, finally, I rode to my aunt's used bookstore, peddling my short, little legs as quickly as I could all summer long to borrow one book after the other. And that's where I found them. Those delicious Superromances! Oh, I loved them best. They were thick and full of adventure. Long-fingered pianists (I wondered why that mattered), travel agents (very 70s, right?) and tortured lovers ripped apart by meddlesome mothers and happenstance. I'm pretty sure I read every one of them. I even thought antiquing was cool because one of the heroines always wanted to go antiquing. Try explaining that to a thirteen year old boy.
So, every now and again, I sorta pinch myself because I get to write them! How flippin' cool is that? I so wish my aunt were alive. Or my grandmother. Or my uncle who snuck and read them (though he would never admit to it. He was in the choir at the Baptist Church, for goodness sake!) I wish they could know because they would be so proud.
So, I'm good right where I am. I'm loving it. And because I have a new house and a new great office, I bought a vintage Harlequin calendar and used the pages to make awesome pictures to decorate my office with. I have them above....not so good with technical stuff so if they end up in making this look wonky, forgive me. The covers are so funny and risque. My favorite is "She was nice in so many ways....No Nice Girl" LOL.
So what about you? Let's get nostalgic. Do you remember your first romance? What was it and why did it hook you?