My non-writing BFF (my writing BFF is Babette and you can find her
groovy guest post here...http://kyliescottwriter.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/writing-erotic-by-my-guest-babette.html) read my MS
‘Final Girl’ recently. Much to my surprise she got right into it. Mish (we’ll
call her that because it’s her name) reads mostly historical and contemporary
romance. She doesn’t do weird or bloody and has never understood zombies. So,
she reads the book and makes a few comments. Let me give you a dramatic
re-enactment of the tipsy moment to which I’ll be referring.
Mish: I liked it. But it’s not a romance.
Me: Huh? What do you mean it’s not a romance?
Mish: Well, you call it an Erotic Romance, but it’s
not really, is it?
Me: What shit do you speak, woman? They meet, they
have adventures and stuff. Sex. Zombie chaos and carnage. More hot sex. Then
they fall in love. How is that not a romance?
Mish: (Rolls
eyes and flicks hair. She has really cool, flicky hair because she’s a hairdresser.)
It’s not a romance. Romance is (lots of
waving of hands here) candles and baths and tender moments, isn’t it? It’s
not running away from zombies all the time. That’s not romance.
Me: They’re not running all the time and they have
candles. There’s no electricity, of course they have candles. And there are
several bathing scenes (add finger wagglingg here).
Mish: What... you mean when there was a rotting body
in a tub?
Me: No, apart from that. And the rotting body was
there for a very good reason.
Mish: Right... whatever... Anyway, it’s not exactly romanticky,
is it?
Me: Umm, that’s not even a word.
Okay. Now, romance is a subjective thing. And it’s the wooing we’re
talking about here, I checked back with her when we were both sober. Mish
believes in the Happy Ever After at the end of Final Girl, but still believes
the tale is not ‘romanticky’. So what is romance? Is it roses and candle lit
dinners? Or is it my partner agreeing to do the washing up with his shirt off
despite thinking I’m a loon (and having the children laugh at him)? Maybe it’s
a bit of both. Little things count. In survival situations, a hero giving the
greater portion of the last can of Irish Stew to the heroine could be considered
romance. How about providing your love with a shoulder to lean on when they’ve
f**ked up spectacularly? Believing your honey looks rocking when they’re
wrecked? Yep. Romance. There are a million, billion different versions of love
and affection. A trillion ways to treasure someone, on the run from the undead or
not.
In summation, different strokes for different folks. I’m chuffed she
read the book in record time and wants to know what happened next. I done
hooked her, I did. And the rotting body in the tub IS there for a really good
reason.
Disclaimer: No Mish’s were hurt during the making of this
blog.
The washing up wins for me, every time - with or without a shirt! Good post and I have every confidence that the body was there for a reason!
ReplyDeleteI love you Imelda. Just saying.
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