The other day, a book coach with a romance background looked at it, and she said there were two faults -- 1) not enough emotion; 2) It should actually be a romance. to be honest (and I apologize to the romance writers who read this) I have read a lot of romances I don't identify with, with tropes that annoy my feminist sensibilities: the heroine who doesn't think she's attractive but she's drop-dead gorgeous, the male who's the strong silent type. I don't want to write those tropes, and I'm afraid I'll be an unreadable romance writer if I write the truth about Josh and Jeanne -- she's twenty years older and a Rubenesque professor; he's built like a lightweight wrestler and the most macho thing he does is practice aikido (and has achieved the equivalent of first level black belt). He writes poetry and stories; she designs permaculture gardens. He is intense and hungry; she's a bit preoccupied with his research. They both think what they want is impossible.
The trouble is, I have to believe in their romance to write it, and right now I'm like Jeanne, who thinks it's a biological impossibility that a twenty-year-old guy would fall in love with a 45-year-old woman. I know the other way around is possible sort of -- I have gotten crushes on 20-somethings with small builds. But, again, like Jeanne, I don't know how that could be reciprocated. If I want this book, I have to find a way to believe in that.
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