I have three Christmas trees. Since they range in size from two feet to six and a half and are decorated with different memories and wishes, they don't look much alike.
Though they do. My trees are all traditional, like this. Presents underneath, shiny things all over it, a tree skirt. Green. Lots of lights.
And then, maybe my favorite tree of all, the Charlie Brown. That little seedling of hope and love and "yes, I can" that can make for such a happy ending.
Sometimes the season doesn't mean a tree at all; sometimes it has to do with things like a this that are of another faith, another holiday, but no less beautiful, no less heartfelt.
Romance novels are like Christmas trees, aren't they? And menorahs. All different, yet all the same. Naysayers talk of formula, but those of us who write it and read it and love it know better. Romance novels are like this, like snowflakes--another reason for celebration; ask any kid who's on a snow day.
There may be a formula to writing romance, but who cares? Christmas trees, menorahs, snowflakes, gifts you choose with love, and romance novels are all happy things, full of wonder and discovery and extraordinary beauty. Things that make you cry sometimes, laugh others. Things that give you peace. Joy. Remembrance.
Yup, works for me.
Have a great week!