I don’t know too much about
writing romances. I’ve read maybe three or so. No way would that qualify me to
write one. Good thing I didn’t. I’m still sticking to my novel being a mystery.
But it is a mystery with just a hint of romantic potential.
My protagonist and her
erstwhile alley have a long history of being at odds with one another. Opposites
in a lot of ways. But opposites sometimes attract. I want to think of their
alliance as filling in the incomplete spaces of their potential with
interesting possibilities. Creating a larger synergistic whole. I want them to
make a good team whether they see it or not.
But things can never go
smoothly in a story. There has to be tension and conflict and—to make the case
for romantic undercurrent—competition. Enter my Swede, Lars. I could have
called him Sven, but I didn’t. Bishop Hill has had a long line of stray cats
named Sven. I stand by Lars.
Lars has a lot of jobs to do.
He provides a link to the past, a sounding board for ideas and theories, and provides
clues to current and future problems. But just being Swedish gives him romantic
currency. The accent, the blond good looks, the hint at political importance.
Maybe a royal connection. This is the stuff of Bishop Hill dreams and I want to
use it all.
As I said, I didn’t write a
romance. This time at least. Who knows what will come later. I’m keeping my
options open.
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