Writing a New Love Story
How good are you at reading in between the lines? If you’re better than me, maybe you saw my impending divorce coming before I did. When I blog, I tend to take inspiration from what’s going on in my own reading and in my life. A few months ago I wrote about the romances that mirror your own romance, and in a roundabout way discussed my newfound disenchantment with heroines who marry too young.
I’ve been reading romance and writing about romance novels for a long time – over sixteen years. When I started writing for All About Romance I was 28, with three young kids. I defined my own love story as a young lovers romance; I liked to say I married young and crazy but was still making it work. I defended couples who met young and knew they were in love, because I knew it could happen. What usually happens in a romance novel of this storyline, however, is that our couple marries young (or gets pregnant young, or dates young, or something) then tragically separates only to reunite later in life and rekindle the flame after they’ve both grown up. Granted, you need conflict. Two people who marry at nineteen, graduate from college, then go on to have four kids and two dogs as they live in blissful harmony in their suburban home do not exactly make the most scintillating reading.
Or sometimes, the most scintillating marriage. You can tell yourself you’re happy, tell your online community you’re happy, and tell Facebook you’re happy. But that doesn’t necessarily make it true. That’s why I find myself 44, with the same four kids and two dogs and suburban house…and about to write a different ending to a story. It isn’t what I’d pictured or what I thought I wanted, but the opportunity to redefine yourself and (dare I say it?) perhaps find a new “hero” of sorts, has quite a bit of allure. I went through about a week where I listened to the Ben Folds song above on repeat. I’ve thought about things I hadn’t considered in years. Suddenly I find myself saying, doing, and thinking things that surprise me. I’m mourning the loss of my 25 year marriage (mostly because this isn’t what I wanted for the kids), but I’m also discovering parts of myself I had forgotten about. So some of this is actually kind of cool.
When I say I am looking for a new love story, that’s not quite true – at least not yet. This is early days for me, and though I might have an idea or two about men I find attractive, I’m hardly going to come off a 26 year relationship and jump right into picking out china patterns with someone else. Not yet, anyway. Besides, who needs more plates when you’re 44?
When I am ready, though, my considerable romance reading experience is sure to stand me in good stead. If romance novels are the definitive guide to life, I would be best served by one of the following scenarios:
1. Return home to cozy, seaside town from whence I came, preferably in Washington State or, if unavailable, Maine. Open bed and breakfast. Reconnect with local sheriff. Marry sheriff.
2. Having made it big in publishing, investment banking, lawyering, or acting, suffer embarrassing career failure which requires immediate exodus to small town from whence I came. In this case, it’s okay if it’s Texas or Montana. Rekindle romance with bad boy from high school who I pined over, even though he dated that cheerleader whose name was probably Jennifer. He is – you guessed it – now the sheriff. Date sheriff while opening new business (hair salon, bookstore, yarn shop), which succeeds improbably despite small population of town and prevalence of online shopping.
3. Inherit family ranch from dead relative. It’s probably in Montana, but Wyoming will do in a pinch. Ridiculous will stipulation that I live on said ranch with ranch foreman (in spare time, sheriff) is a bonus but not absolutely required. Fall in love with foreman/sheriff at night and in rainstorms, while tapping into horse-whispering skills no one knew I had, especially me. Have one more child as my fertility wanes. Name child either Foreman or Sheriff, depending on gender.
4. Admit that one of my babies is actually secret baby. (This is both awkward and long overdue since the youngest is fourteen.) Nonetheless, I should never have had two margaritas at my high school reunion (definitely in Texas) and slept with my ex-boyfriend-now-sheriff. Time to come clean and tell the sheriff he has a baby/teenager.
5. Make new bucket list involving sexytimes. Talk loudly about sexbucketlist in presence of longtime male best friend, who is a billionaire sheriff (who, for variety’s sake, lives in Nevada or Colorado). Surprise sheriff/billionaire/best friend into volunteering to hold clipboard and check off sexperiences (I made up a new word just now!) together. He always wanted to do this stuff, but I was unavailable of course. Billionaire sheriff sexy marriage ensues.
6. Realize that I am actually in a Superromance, so I’m going to have to get a little more serious. Acquire new profession (counselor, nurse, teacher, social worker) that puts me in contact with the troubled child of my old flame, who is now also divorced with his own struggles as a single dad/sheriff. Solve all the troubled child’s problems waaaay too easily with handy professional tricks and/or the considerable knowledge and experience I’ve acquired from being a mom for 22 years. In Ohio, probably.
7. Acquire new connection to family of hot, single (or single until recently) brothers. The more brothers the better, but we can’t really wander into Duggar territory here. Seven, tops. Realistically, I’ll probably come in around book five, when the bartender brother, hot doctor, businessman and the like have already married the bookstore owner and impossibly cute owner of local cafe where they make all those pies (huckleberry, probably). That’ll leave me with the sheriff, who by virtue of my age, is probably the oldest brother who is pissed off with a chip on his shoulder for some reason. Probably because he kind of wanted the 23 year old cafe owner with the pies and got stuck with the 44 year old divorcee with four kids. Suck it up, buddy. It’s not my fault that the author’s running out of ideas. Besides, you’re 46 yourself, asshole. And I make good pies too just so you know.
Feel free to chime in with your own ideas for my romantic future, keeping in mind that they all must end with me marrying a sheriff (which as you know, is my only realistic option). Authors, feel free to use any of these great ideas, because I’m pretty sure I’m onto something here. Titles can include (but are not limited to): Marrying the Sheriff, The Billionaire Sheriff’s Divorcee, The Sheriff’s Awkward Teenage Surprise, and Fucking the Hell out of the Hot Sheriff. And…go!
You can tell me you’re sorry too, by the way. So am I sometimes, but it’s just more fun to laugh about it, you know?
Really great post…
Thanks so much for sharing and I wish you and your family a bright, happy future:)
On vacation in Hawaii, you meet a non-sheriff with his three kids who are also on vacation. He’s really from Lone Star Pine, Tabasco County, Texas! After lots of time looking at waves, feeling the sand between your toes, you two hit it off and move to his hometown. When you get there, you find there’s been a murder and you and the sheriff team up to solve it. It turns out the president of major oil company which of course has it’s headquarters in Lone Star Pine, Texas, is the victim and his will is missing which declares who the heir to his fortune (and company) is. Meanwhile you interact with the local townies who think you look twenty-five versus forty-four. A lot of them are eccentric and there are many petty crimes, but also some drugs and stuff. (spoiler) Eventually YOU find the will of oil company president in an old clock! and the sheriff is actually his long lost illegitimate son. (His legit son is the killer.) The Sheriff inherits everything! But you decide to become the next sheriff of Tabasco County, ’cause Tabasco County would fall apart without anyone enforcing the law! The series focuses on your relationship as you solve crimes and “”deputize”” your husband when needed! Think In Death meets Lori Wilde and a little Brady Bunch thrown in.
I am so sorry about your divorce. I didn’t see it coming either.
Blythe, you totally rock, and I hope every single one of these stories will come true for you.
What a positive attitude!
Mine would be a romantic suspense. Our intrepid heroine inherits a run-down Victorian in a coastal town in the South. Her four kids despise the move to such a hick place. She needs help, so hires a passing handyman, in his mid thirties (’cause I like younger-men-older-women romances!) He’s a incognito Navy SEAL who just left the service after a disastrous ambush and life-threatening injuries (bonus points for having other SEALs waiting in the wings for sequel-bait.) He’s really in town to help his former commander who’s the town sheriff, with a drug ring running out of our sleepy coastal town.
SEAL and you get into it hot and heavy while bad guys threaten you and your kids and he heroically rescues all of you! (Bonus points if you don’t act like a TSTL heroine and stamp your foot while doing idiotic things.) Sheriff decides to retire and SEAL becomes new town sheriff. You turn up pregnant in epilogue! (Must have more babies).
I think I like this one too. I’ll try not to go out alone to find the bad guy. Down in the basement. While I leave my flashlight in the car. D’oh.
Blythe would never act TSTL….
I never say never. Looking back, there are aspects of TSTL in my real story
Hi Blythe–
I loved your post.
Here’s another scenario for you:
You decide to follow your passion and give your talent a chance, so you take a formal cooking class and then find a job as a chef in a little restaurant in your hometown. One day a foreign-looking customer (a tall hunky man in his mid-forties) compliments you on the original hamburger you’d served him. He has intense black eyes and a sexy accent you can’t quite place. He comes back the next day and orders another dish, and then another the day after. On the fourth day, he confesses he’s Michelin starred French chef vacationing in the US, and makes you an offer to work for him in Saint Rafael (a cute town on the French Riviera). You’re flattered but say it’s crazy. You have a house and kids to take care of. He writes a four-digit figure on a napkin–your monthly salary. You relocate to Saint Rafael with your youngest.
Your mutual professional admiration with the hunky chef gradually grows into something more. But his bitchy evil girlfriend will do anything to discredit you and push you out of the way.
(insert a few twists and turns of your own here)
You marry the chef.
Note: I’m aware that all your stories are set in the US, and I’m sorry if this one is off the mark. But I love France and good food so much that everything I write ends up being around these two themes… :-)
Wishing you all the best,
Alix
What a wonderful cathartic route to take!!! I love all the stories!
Well, if nothing else, you have given me a whole new way to laugh at the end of my 30 year marriage! It is fairly early days for me yet (divorce was final last week) but here’s what my soon- to-be-writtten bestseller looks like so far:
Still reeling from the shocking discovery of the clandestine emotional affair that her husband has been conducting by cell phone and email, our intrepid heroine vows to make a new life in a small, bustling college town in Texas. Hilarity ensues when she moves into a slightly decrepit 4-plex from the 1910’s and has misadventures in the move, job change, meeting much younger neighbors. I am currently leaning toward one of two romance scenarios: meeting the father and/or professor of one of the college age neighbors OR taking a yoga class and “”meeting cute”” with an older, perhaps widowed gentleman. OR maybe history can repeat itself and out of a bowling league blind date kind of set up, our heroine meets a retired military man who pursues her with romance and………well, as I said- it is early days yet. Tune in tomorrow!
What about a hot affair with a younger neighbor who convinces her–while in bed–that age is just a number and that they are meant to grow old and hip together?
So I am thinking a Jennifer Crusie “”Anyone But You”” kind of younger man/older woman set up (do NOT use the word cougar around me). But there has to be a dog….preferably named Fred
I love that you are writing a new story too. Since I’ve got Sheriffs covered, you could always go the tycoon route. Maybe your professor is also a tycoon, but no one knows because he’s the absent-minded (and still hot though) type.
Could my professor/tycoon kind have a Cary Grant kind of vibe? Of course he can- it’s MY book ;-)
He sure can.
You relocate, and my knowledge of the US is limited here so – googling – it’s to Bath, Maine. And you start having vivid, vivid dreams where you are living in Bath, England during the Regency.
So in the day time, you get intrigued and investigate your dreams and find out that Bath, Maine was settled by people from Bath England and the woman you are dreaming about actually existed. So at night, you’re riding in phaetons and dancing cotillions and stuff we need to research so as to be historically correct, and during the day you are settling into your new life and – I think you mostly paint cupboards and worry mildly about the kids – will Ermintrude make swim team? – when you aren’t investigating the mystery woman. She (you in your dreams) is having a ball, however – numerous Balls really, until the famous Fenchurch diamond goes missing when her aunt, Lady Fenchurch has visitors over for afternoon tea, and a darkly handsome Bow Street Runner with luxuriant facial hair is called in to investigate. Fourteen chapters later (six months, maybe?) you finish unravelling her story – turns out she did marry the Bow Street Runner, but he wasn’t accepted by her family (class problems: though her aunt was more accepting and gave them her tea set to show her approval) so they emigrated to your Bath and wed, bred and died. You track down their grave, and leave flowers in the funny old teapot you found while you were painting the cupboard. But it slips from your hand, breaks, and lodged in the broken spout you find the Fenchurch diamond which must have accidentally fallen off Aunt Letitia’s necklace as she poured the tea.
You are so nice that you feel guilty about the whole thing, and want to pass the diamond back to it’s rightful owner, so track down her last remaining heir, who has followed the family tradition of working in law enforcement. He is, in fact, the local sheriff. He, sadly, does not have luxuriant facial hair except in the month of Movember (do they do that in the US? More research! Or wait, he’s half-British…), but is otherwise the spit of his great, great, great, great etc grandfather Josiah.
As your eyes meet, you both realise love is possible across space and time, etc. And just at that moment Ermintrude runs up the garden path, squealing with delight – she has made the swim team! Happiness abounds.
(I hope it will abound in whatever way is best for you and your kids.)
This story needs to be written.
This may be my favorite. Off to find hot Bow Street runner descendent and rename daughter Ermintrude.
I am in awe of all of the wonderful stories others have posted. I’m even more in awe of Blythe who can find humor and empathy in the midst of a life change that would have some people hiding under the covers (although having 4 children doesn’t allow much time for wallowing in self-pity).
These are AWESOME. And so are all of you. :)
Great blog Blythe! I know you are feeling pain but have a great sense of humor too.
Oh, these are just such funny stories. Okay. Okay. Now on to my own.
You have inherited an old, partially broken down mansion in Maine which overlooks the dashing sea. Naturally, as you polish on your own knees the endless oak floors, you hear a woman’s voice. You find out that the place is haunted, but in a benign way. See, a woman who was prevented by her wealthy father from running off with a young man who was from the wrong side of the tracks, so she lived, alone and unmarried and tragic until she died at 90 in the house. Since then, she’s dedicated her life to bringing happiness (and mates) to whoever owns the house. You gradually become aware of this as you scour the endless bathroom and kitchen sinks. You interview a number of construction workers to do the remodeling and when you hear the ghost whisper, “”This one,”” you hire the hunky middle-aged man who doesn’t quite know what to do with his 12 year old daughter who is still reeling from her mother’s death, two years ago. You realize that this kid just needs someone to advise her about makeup and boys and she’ll come out of her funk. The father is so relieved (and so turned on sexually) that he never charges you for the the knocking down of walls, replastering, putting up wall board, reshingling the house and the roof, painting the trim, and installing a new kitchen. He’s never felt what he feels now with you, even with his deceased wife whom he married when she was pregnant, so he really didn’t have any choice. In spite of he and his crew working weeks and weeks on your house and not charging you, he is a very good business man, and is actually a millionaire (construction work pays well). One day, after retiling the bathroom, he is so overwhelmed with admiration, love, and lust that he blurts out, “”Marry me, Esmerilda.”” The ghost whispers, “”Do it.”” And you do.
Love the song.
I am thinking you go back to your hometown. You go to the local diner where you strike up a conversation with the local sheriff, who’s a girl (twist). She tells you what’s wrong with all the attractive men who enter and leave the diner. Then there’s a ruckus in the kitchen. The hot middle-aged cook leaves the kitchen in a huff. The sheriff tells you he’s never been “”right””. You happen by the diner after closing and see a light on. You enter only to be yelled at by the surly cook. He is secretly a chef, and you end up striking up meaningful conversation while sampling his genius recipes. He wanted to open a restaurant in New York, but he takes care of his senile mother instead. Eventually, over late-night food samplings, you find out he’s never married because he is stuck on a girl from childhood who, when he was being bullied gave him a flower from the playground. (Which he has conveniently pressed in his notebook of recipe ideas, which he reads to his mom every night to make her remember that she’s his mom, twist) You tear up and ask is it (i dunno) Queen Anne’s Lace? Flashback. The girl from the playground is you. The sheriff comes by to tell him that his mom is dead…and she her adjustable bed was actually a safe with half a million dollars in it. You guys get to move to New York and live the dream, ’cause everyone wants a hot guy with issues who is sentimental and loves his mom and can cook…
As you walk down the street in your small hometown of Harbor, a hawt 35 yr old looking biker/billionaire sees you & immediately knows you are his mate. His inner lion/tiger/wolf puts you on his bike, takes you home & sexy time ensues until the kids get home from school. ( awkward questions do arise about why Mom has chains, velvet whips, padded handcuffs in bedroom). He convinces you age has no meaning when he has waited 500 years for you. His vampire BFF/sheriff looks deep into your eyes & sees you are SOMETHING MORE. With your newly discovered senses, you know there is evil in Harbor. You and your mate whip out your badass and defeat evil. Matey donates a buttload of money to the town to repair the damage and you, your mate and the kids all leave Harbor with a roar on matching Harleys.
I give you a standing ovation for your ability to find laughter in the midst of what I’m sure is a very painful experience for you and your family. What a great way to look at the world!
Let’s see…I think you’ll find that you have a flair for working with elderly people, but only those who have very charming and quirky personalities. In this capacity, you will befriend a lovely lady named Gert or perhaps Mary Ruth, and she will do her best to pair you up with her darling son, who she assures you is handsome, smart and has a good job. The perfect man for you, says Gert/Mary Ruth. You will resist, of course, because the last thing you need right now is to get involved with a man. However, after you find yourself arguing with the local sheriff after some hooligan breaks into your car at the local grocery store (it’s a rash of burglaries the sheriff is determined to solve) because he is just the most disagreeable, obstinate-yet-incredibly-sexy-for-someone-his-age man you’ve ever encountered in your entire life, you come to discover that he is, indeed, Gert’s darling son. She will suffer a serious-yet-recoverable ailment that will force your and Mr. Sheriff into spending a lot of time together, and you will come to learn that he shares your passion for antiquing. Gert will recover and life will go back to the way it was, except that you realize how much you miss Mr. Sheriff. Gert and all her friends at the old folks’ home will pull off some crazy stunt to bring you together and you will declare your love for each other in front of everyone. This will all happen in coastal town in South Carolina, except no one will actually die the way they do in all of Nicholas Sparks’ books.
I wore out Ben Folds and Regina Spektor’s ‘You don’t know me at all’ getting through my own divorce after 16 years. What would we do without Ben Folds when it all falls apart? Good luck finding your peace, Blythe. Or did I mean piece?
Also, thanks so much for this post which has shown me the error of my ways! Why am I still living in a big city?! Clearly, my sheriff is waiting for me as soon as I move to a small town. Although, I’m not sure we even have sheriffs in Canada. I might need a bigger move.
Maybe in Canada someone will write “”The Divorcee Gets Her Mounty””?
Brilliant; I’m on it!
I just want to send you a hug. I married at 22 and now at 40, I know I need to move my life in a new direction. But I’m afraid. It’s time though.
And if I gain that courage, I’ll reread this and laugh. Also, you forgot that you need to make up with your long lost sisters and together you will run that ranch/inn/B&B and each of you will find love anew. :)
Well, if Janice Kay Johnson were to write your story it would go something like this. You are two years divorced so youngest child is now sixteen. He and his oh so hot girlfriend find out they are pregnant. You and the dad agree to meet to discuss this.You are the school guidance counselor and he is the town sheriff, When you get together you realize your son’s super hot girlfriend is so hot because her dad is freaking scorching. Tall, Dark, Handsome with just a touch of gray and some laugh lines to show how well he wears his life experiences. As you try to decide what to do about the kids dilemma you meet for lunch, then dinner, then make another date to go dancing because everything is stressing you out. You wow him with your pie baking skills. He impresses you when he drags you along to a robbery in progress and proceeds to calmly talk the robber into handing over the gun and money. He doesn’t arrest the guy cause this is a small town and he knows the man hadn’t really wanted to do it. (Later this will be your oldest daughters hero who is a MC accountant with a rough start and a heart of gold.) By the end of the story you two determine to marry and raise your grandchild (cause there is no HEA without kids.) The epilogue has your two kids graduating as joint summa cum laude.
Awesome! I’ll read that. Live that? The irony is that I can’t actually visualize a romantic relationship with anyone in law enforcement.
I would read number 7. It sounds awesome.
Also, all your kids get their own book..
Your somewhat bad boy oldest son (he’s acting out a little since the divorce, has a tattoo and wears an earing) comes home with girfriend from college who happens to be the daughter of local hot ski resort owner (who’s a sheriff, part time). Those two crazy kids are determined to quit college and become tattoo shop owners or horse trainers. Hot ski resort owner and you (an attractive, thin, but curves in all the right places, 44 year old stationary store owner) hatch a scheme to keep them apart through tough love and real world experience. Along the way you both form a program to scare straight all the hot troubled young adults in tiny town of Fresh Water Springs, Colorado or Montana. Both of you fall in love and adopt a couple of the hot young troubled adults’ offspring. Your son and his daughter get their own book, plus all the other young adults, maybe a four or five book series.
And I am sorry about your divorce. But laughing is better.
My children will appreciate getting their own books. Though I am encouraging them to wait to marry until they are not nineteen. My girls have already succeeded in that. ;)