Why Write a Romance? (Part One)

My first novel!

In 2006, I'd become accustomed to travelling by car to a variety of towns and cities as a freelance photojournalist. I met so many wonderful people and shared their stories through international automotive magazines, garnering a cover here or there as permitted by my editors. I was "live without a net", as they say, having cut ties with corporate employment. It was thrilling, and it was frightening, and I pinched every nickel I had until it screamed.

One guilty pleasure I enjoyed was having breakfast at a Starbucks cafe after a successful dawn shoot, even though the cost was higher than my other options. A hot breakfast croissant or a piece of cinnamon crumb cake (warmed, never cold), and a tasty caramel macchiato were my "comfort foods". If my subject joined me, we'd discuss cars and cameras, and if not, I'd sit in peace and "people watch".

So, there I was, hanging out at the 'Bucks on Topanga Canyon Road, when genius struck; three or four of the women working as baristas looked like models. They had the sort of easy, comfortable beauty which made me wonder, "why were they here, working this job?" This innocent question kicked off a thought exercise, and before I knew it, I'd already created the framework which became the core "Schrödinger’s Heart". I typed it all into my phone before I forgot it, then promptly ignored it for almost two decades.

Two decades filled with life, career changes, ten different vehicles (one of which never ran), and three increasingly-capable iPhones. I am not what Apple calls "an early adopter". A phone is a tool to me, not a status symbol. So long as it works, I'm happy. Each time I moved the book idea (as I called it) to a new phone, I would review it, and add a little bit more to the story. She should be a widow, perhaps from the military, with a child, making her own way in the world. My female barista should have a side hustle, perhaps something artsy. Artists simply see the world different. They are much less focused on material items than others around them. I should know; I am one myself.

During these years, my kids were born, and I was the stay-at-home father, working on the weekends. I did diapers and baths and read bedtime stories, trying to instill my love of reading and books into their infant minds. We (my wife and I) got the first one through high school, thrilled that she was co-Salutatorian of her graduating class. These were the Covid years, and with a bit of enforced-isolation, I dove into a new genre in my reading habits: historical Romance.

Party Two to Follow Shortly...