One day, while out to lunch, I was asked when I wrote my first love story. I opened my mouth, ready and eager to talk about my first published novel, Same Page, only to shut it again when I realized I’d penned a romantic tale much earlier than 2009, which is when I started writing seriously. Years and years earlier, in fact. So long ago, it was a tad embarrassing to admit how young I was.
I was only twelve!
Yes, at the grand old age of twelve I wrote my first epic love story! And what an epic it was. A historical one! I had my heroine—a young, recently orphaned Englishwoman—crossing storm-tossed oceans, dealing with sickness and a rapidly dwindling food supply. It was the 1780s and she was sailing from England to Australia as part of the Second Fleet.
Oh, and did I mention she managed to capture the heart of the devilishly handsome, much older sea captain somewhere between the Cape of Good Hope and Port Jackson? I even threw in a sex scene! Well, it was fade to black, but it was most definitely implied! How else could you interpret Tessa’s diary entry where she said she couldn’t possibly speak about what happened after she had dinner with the captain in his stateroom because to do so wouldn’t be considered ladylike?
I remember feeling ever so clever about Tessa’s ‘sort of’ confession—I managed to sidestep describing something I knew nothing about—I hadn’t even experienced my first kiss yet—and shock my sixth grade teacher at the same time! Ask any precocious twelve-year-old—that’s a win-win! Her face when she read it in front of the class was priceless. I was a hero to my fellow classmates for at least a week. I hope, for Mrs. Smith’s sake, she never had another student like me.I even threw in a sex scene! Well, it was fade to black, but it was most definitely implied!
Well, time’s have changed and I’ve now experienced my first kiss. Yep, it was just last week… rather nice, wetter than I thought it would be…
Just kidding. But times have definitely changed. These days I’m inspired by beautifully flawed and wonderfully intriguing gay men who fall in love in spite of themselves, and, um, I don’t always fade to black…
The most recent additions to the dinner party called my brain are Noah and Robert from Heart Knot Mine—two very interesting Art History professors. Telling their story has been a bit of a rollercoaster ride of emotion. They had my nerves on edge, my stomach in knots, and I wanted to bang their heads together once or twice. Okay, it was at least a dozen times, but getting to know them both was oh so worth it.
Perhaps I should send a copy to my old sixth grade teacher…
