Not all of my friends support my endeavour to write romance. Some feel it to be an empty, pointless and even inappropriate genre to read.

Gasp! How could they, you ask? Well, everyone has a right to their opinion and the freedom to voice it (hopefully without malice…hint-hint), which includes myself.

I don’t write seeking the approval of my friends or anyone for that matter. I chose to write romance because I love it. We have soooo many negative forces at work around us. Reality in itself can be such a downer. Sometimes my plate runneth over with reality, and life can be very difficult at times.

Romance is not all fluff. For me, the characters represent imaginary people who come to life and have something to say…something to share. I just become the vessel. For that moment in time, its like I’m witnessing their lives and recording the events.

It’s not all roses. How boring would that be? Completely realistic? Maybe not. One of my daughters actually feels that romance is too predictable. “They all have happy endings. You know what’s going to happen before it ends. Why read it?” she always says.

I have read romance novels since I was 13. Why? I loved the act of falling in love. All of it! The butterflies. The excitement. The newness of getting to know one another. The attraction. The fear. The uncertainty. The courting. Yes. I said courting. It’s beautiful when two hearts become one. It always led me to wonder what happened next. I made up my own stories even then.

It’s pretty simple. I like happy endings. The giddy, warm feeling a good romance leaves me with is priceless. It makes me feel good. If I can do the same for a little while when someone reads one of my books, that makes me feel good too.

With that being said, there are still a few hours left to this holiday weekend. I think I’ll go curl up with my Ipad and get lost for a little while.