…of not spending quality time with my romance genre writing.
I’m hitting a blank wall with my stories for Iris’ series.
Maybe I should listen to my instincts…my comfort zone…and write a mixed genre of romance and intrigue/mystery/anything. Problem with that…I don’t want to stay in my comfort zone.
I want to stretch into a standalone genre that doesn’t consist of anything else but human emotions and connections. Our basic interactions of normalcy. Everyday life that is taken for granted. Not as much as the stereotypical “chic-flick” movies…okay, I’m fooling myself, those are exactly what I’m talking about.
But, I don’t want my characters to been read as perfect. I want them to stumble and have flaws, perhaps a whole bucket filled with flaws and goof-ups and even non-likeabilitiness (yeah, who knows if that word is right, but it’s what I’m thinking).
I don’t want to see socially perfect people on my pages and that’s why I’m holding back. Dangit, I forgot one of the most important writing notes…write what you want to read. Don’t write for the audience out there, write for self and others will find you.
New genres are scary. I don’t always read or watch plain old romance and this isn’t what pulled me to the genre…my own quirky characters did.
Time to pull the cotton out of my ears; the stereotypes out of my head; and kick my derriere into action (or as Olive would say…arse).