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June 21, 2006
In love by tea time a working title
I placed his cold body a top my right hip as my knees pointed to the wall. He sang as I opened him with my delicate touch upon ebony keys. Immediately he murmured the sixty-cycle hum while slowly my right hip warmed under his presence. His delicious speed conjuring up any memory that I called for as we lay together in the morning sun. He was more then equal to the task but what would I think of myself in the morning?
I can’t.
I can’t write a romance novel.
Half the joy of reading one is the clandestine manner in which I go about it and then run out of my bedroom telling the house of the plot line. A quarter of the fun is justifying my habit to myself while trying to convince others it is not just my melted marshmallow center oozing out of my lips, nose, and ears. An eighth of my pleasure knows it is bad for me and in no way beneficial to society and that eighth also reaches for that paperback escape like a three hundred and forty page idol. I already feel dirty for making my poor little computer into a sexual object to write that first paragraph. While I can wilt my conscious into reading one the actual creation of a romance novel is a step too far. I won’t be the addict dealer. I won’t have that here after I am dead.
If I ever do become a sociologist though I should write a few papers about them. I could do it now. Oh, the bliss of research. I know the form of romance novels so well that I bet I can turn to the five key points within any romance novel (given a five page range) with only seeing the art work, the back page teaser, and the thickness/font. Wait did I just give away the sickening amount of romance novels I have read?
Last night I told two men of my plan to write a romance novel in the next few weeks. Of course they both wanted to hear some plot lines and I could really only give my two least thought out and therefore least embarrassing plots. I can’t even tell people about my ideas without my face heating.
I can’t write a romance novel; sorry my bank account.
Public Relations: The Call Itself | By razorback | 09:12 AM
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Comments
what?! no Vampirate!
Posted by: linnea at June 21, 2006 12:59 PM
you know, I don't even know if I could read it if you wrote it... but it makes me happy to think about.
Posted by: Natalie at July 8, 2006 05:17 PM