Years ago, before I really even knew what a romance novel was, I was invited to speak about writing to a northern California chapter of the Romance Writers of America. At the time, my credits included episodic television, several humorous parenting books and children’s poetry that appeared in anthologies with Shel Silverstein and other authors much more prominent than I.
In my mind, I placed romance novels on the same level as “The Love Boat,” of which I had written several episodes. Nobody ever won an Emmy writing for “The Love Boat.” It was pure fluff. Now I wish I’d written a hundred episodes. As it was, the residuals kept coming for decades.
I remember very little about my talk to the group, but I do recall telling the gathering I never had to worry about finding a job, no matter where I lived, as I had three useful skills: I could type, I could change a tire and I could write. It was incredibly freeing to know that, in theory, at least, I would never starve. I also told them of the helpful hint another TV writer had given me: Never stop writing when you don’t know what’s coming next. Always stop in the middle of a scene. That way, the next time you pick up your book, story or script, you’ll be able to continue writing and not stare at a blank page for minutes or hours.
Now here I am reading and writing romance novels and not feeling the least bit ashamed. I honestly don’t think my standards have slipped. I believe my perspective has broadened. In other words, I’m not as stupid and narrow-minded as I used to be. I now understand one of life’s joys (not to mention cheap thrills) is to read an entertaining book with twists and turns, sharp dialogue and a happy ending. I’m proud to be a member of the Romance Writers of America.