How to Break a Heart Without Breaking Quarantine
(This
blog originally appeared on Breaking Rules Publishing's Website)
Welcome to my brief tutorial on how to write a romance novel (or two) while
surviving being trapped in a duplex with three children under the age of ten.
Normally, writing a romance should be done in a glamorous setting: a Swiss chalet,
cozied up under a faux fur throw; digging your toes into the sand while the
waves crash in the background; anywhere you can sip a Manhattan. (Including
Manhattan.) Social distancing means you will need to bring the romance to you.
You will not have the luxury of being inspired by your scenery unless piles of
dirty laundry make you swoon.
Step One: Gather your weapons
You’ll need a computer. Don’t kid yourself. This isn’t the time for a
leather-bound journal and calligraphy pen. You will not have a spare moment to
copy down what you write from paper to screen. You’ve got one shot before
someone needs you to wipe their butt. Don’t blow it.
Coffee is not mandatory but strongly suggested. You haven’t slept well since
before Obama was president. Wine is fine. You aren’t driving. Nobody’s driving.
Keep a bowl of snacks nearby. Star Wars fruit snacks, Funyuns, and squeezable
apple sauce are recommended. Obviously these are not for you but to hand to
anyone who inevitably starts whining that they’re hungry. Toss them as
necessary, like you’d throw meat to a lion.
Step Two: Train your senses:
You’ll need to learn to tune out the following noises: the bing-bing-bing of
a railroad crossing gate, forty minutes straight, since your four-year-old is
still obsessed with watching trains and he can only do that now on YouTube. The
sound of an entire Lego bin getting dumped all over the wooden floor—you will
step on them later, barefoot. Brace yourself. Rustling in the kitchen—foraging
is encouraged because it means they’re not bothering you.
But not these noises: water running—it might be someone washing their hands. It
is probably someone peeing on the floor. It is definitely not the dishwasher
because only you know what the buttons do or how to run it. The bing-bing-bing that
the refrigerator is open. (It is a different pitch than the bing-bing-bing of
the railroad crossing; learn to distinguish the two.) Screaming. There will be
a lot of screaming. You’ll need to separate the brawlers.
Step Three: Set the Mood
Unless you have a partner willing to watch your munchkins while you lock
yourself away in your writing dungeon or what have you—and if so, well
done!—you will have to be able to accept the cognitive dissonance of watching
your children WHILE trying to simultaneously visualize your characters gazing
deeply into each other’s eyes. You’ll have to change a training potty but still
envision a hot tub, or stir Spaghetti-Os but summon up the smell of filet minon
or crème brulee. You can’t very well light a soft candle because someone will
inevitably burn off an eyebrow or set their sister’s doll’s hair on fire.
Vision boards are great for this, so scour the internet for pictures that
remind you of the people or places that you want to include in your novel.
Obviously this is all a thinly veiled excuse to look up thousands of pictures
that you base the love interest on, but it’s for your novel, so it’s okay, and
you definitely aren’t a stalker.
Step Four: Write, Maybe
You’ve got your equipment and hopefully some inspiration and you are ready to
write that novel. The perfect scene will descent into your brain, as if gifted
by Cupid himself. The moment you go to type that out, someone will have found
the xylophone and begin to plonk out what might be Three Blind Mice but all you
know is the muse has left you and so has your patience.
Repeat as often as necessary until novel is complete.
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