I promised myself I wouldn’t ever discuss love. Mostly ‘cause it’s all been said and done before. Why then, at my ripe old age of (clears throat, mumbles,) why does it seem like the topic of romance never seems to go away? I’m a sucker for the girl meets boy, girl flips for boy, cue the drama, heartache, toss in a tear or two, the good, the bad, the ugly. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I thought once I reached a certain point in my life I’d mellow out; stop living in the hearts and flower fantasies that, in my mind, almost always end up happily ever after. Not so. I still actively seek a love story. In fact, sometimes I chase it, regardless of the worn out plot line, familiar characters and unoriginal premise. And regardless of the endings.
It was Benjamin Disraeli, a novelist in the 1800’s who said, “Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of fiction and love.” It’s no coincidence than, that as an aspiring writer I am intensely and eagerly drawn to both. I’ll take no more than my fair share. Indulge me in the written word. Perhaps I’ll be a glutton there. But just a little romance will do.