I was recently speaking with a writer friend about romance and adult situations in stories. They occupy an interesting space in my reading life. For many years I avoided both like the plague, and now I find that while I don’t usually seek them out, finding a good romance on top of a story I already like is a real treat.
Many years would pass before I’d realize it, but one of my favorite book series “The Wheel of Time” actually started me on the path to embracing romance. The books start out with very little, and what there is merely hinted at. Not until book five or so does it really start to become a major part of the narrative, and by then I was too hooked to care.
For years I still protested that I didn’t like romance in my stories while finding myself rooting for fictional couples without even realizing it. Eventually, I came to accept that I just liked a good romance now, as long as it wasn’t the sole focus. I can even do a romance book where it is the main focus, every once in a while.
Yet, I’ve never experienced a romantic relationship first-hand. This was why for years I resisted including romances in my own work, even though I had come to enjoy reading them. My first foray into it was with “Blood of Olthetta”, conceived partially as a test to see if I could pull off a romance successfully. According to that book’s vocal fans, I pulled it off okay.
The writer friend I was speaking with recently opined that my lack of experience with romance may actually be a boon to me in writing them. That not having negative experiences to darken and cloud my perception, I’m able to more clearly follow my instincts on where a romance story should go.
Which makes sense in a way. Many of us let the demons that haunt our past obscure our true path forward, and why should that be any different for composing a scene in a book than any other aspect of life.
I have to say, I find the idea that experiencing romance firsthand might make a person jaded enough that their portrayal of it becomes less satisfying in their art is… well, rather depressing. Love is supposed to be a wonderful thing, after all.
People often talk about how writers use their pain in their work, and that negative experiences make a person more expressive of the human condition in their art. Yet I wonder how true that is, after my recent conversation. Maybe, sometimes, pain isn’t something we use to reveal truth in our art. Perhaps pain is, sometimes, what makes us shy away from the truth in our art.
Because we don’t want to experience it again.
Or we want to know that things can turn out differently.
Or any number of other reasons.
I imagine this is different for every author/artist/creator. Some can use their pain well in their work, and others are hindered by it. But, as with so many things, being aware of it makes it easier for us to identify where we fall on that spectrum, and to hopefully realize when we’re letting our pain get in the way rather than fuel things.
Whatever your own experiences with love, dear readers, I hope that your future ones are great. And that your past doesn’t prevent you from seeing the truth you need to see.
