Alternate title: “You Can’t Write Romance, If You've Never Been in Love—and Other Loads of CENSORED.”
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The other day, an acquaintance said to me, “You can’t write romance, if you’ve never been in love.
Whoa. Wait. Did someone just tell me I couldn’t do something? Mistake.
I crossed my arms and pursed my lips, gearing up for a PMS-induced battle. “Elaborate.”
“You’re a robot. You’ve never been in love—not real love. Whatever you write about is a lie. It’s fake, because you can’t possibly understand it. You don’t want to understand it.”
“The last time I checked, I wasn’t writing my memoir,” I said, carefully blanking my expression. “The wastes-of-carbon I’ve dated have nothing to do with my writing ability.”
“Yeah, but you can’t write something believable, if you’ve never experienced it.”
I blinked—not once, but twice—trying to process the ludicrous statement.“So, the people who write murder scenes… they’ve killed people before?”
He scoffed, shooting me one of those you’re-too-naïve-to-understand looks. “That’s not the same thing.”
“How?”
“It’s just not.”
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I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation, but it really got me thinking. Is that how some people perceive fiction—assuming it’s derivative of the writer’s personal life?
(That conversation happened after I politely declined a date. Think there was a correlation there? <.<)
It irked me. He was so adamant about it. I mean, forgive the universal example, but I doubt *Stephanie Meyer wrote Twilight after covering herself in body glitter and tearing into someone’s jugular. *J.K. Rowling probably didn't base her magic on the time she waved a wand and produced twenties to wipe with. (That’s what HP royalties are for.)
*Nothing but respect for these women. Hooray for success!
I digress.
I think, when we write romance, we call upon fragmented details from every experience in life. The slightest touch, the most genuine confession—they swirl together, forming a new entity from within the confines of our imaginations. We don’t need to call upon our own schemas to suit our characters’ needs. It wouldn’t make sense to. They’re all so different.
Likewise, when I write violent scenes, I don’t focus on the time I knifed someone outside of Target the day after Thanksgiving. (Put down the phone. I kid. We don’t even have a Target.) I conjure memories that, at one time, made me feel angry or pushed to my limits. I don’t need to concentrate on the actual events. I focus on how they made me feel and how I can use those emotions to drive my characters. Before I even realize it, the world inside my mind shifts and things just take off from there. That’s the point of having an imagination, isn’t it?
It’s fiction.
I’m telling a story.
Whew! That was one rambling vent session, wasn’t it? If you guys managed to make sense out of any of that, I commend you, my friends. ♥
I promise my posts will get back on track again soon. I’ve got some ideas in the works. Until then, feel free to rant a little. What writing misconceptions bother you?
Have a great week, guys! :)
