My first child…ummm…story :)

The other day I came across the initial draft of my first full-length romance story. One of those proud, sentimental moments not unlike looking at old pictures of my children when they were babies. And then I opened it and started reading.

 

I suppose for a first story, it’s not really that bad. The plot is decent, there’s some very good place descriptions and the hero is a hunk. Yum. There’s a kidnapping, a chase across Ireland, a very scary and manipulative villain, a knife-wielding heroine…and did I mention the hero? A sexy, blue-eyed, black-haired oooohhh yes please(!!) man.

 

Who doesn’t show up until chapter four.

 

Uhhh…yeah. Now we know why that book isn’t published. Apparently, the hero needs to show up a little sooner. Did I mention that it was a romance? Well, supposed to be a romance. Hard to get the whole romance thing started when the hero and heroine don’t know each other are alive for four whole freakin’ chapters. Sparks of some sort need to be singing through the pages a heck of a lot sooner than that. I flipped through the rest of the manuscript and wondered, WHAT was I thinking?? And then I looked at the other manuscripts on my shelf that have been published in the last couple of years and I know what I was thinking: I want to write a story.

 

But thank goodness that several years later, I not only still want to write a story, I can write a better story. J