Today is Valentine’s Day.
I realize I’m not telling you something you don’t already know. I mean, geez, the stores stock the shelves with pink and red candy hearts, cards, silk flowers, cutesy stuffed animals and anything else people think they can market for a day of romance as soon as Christmas is over.
How could any of us miss the impending arrival of this most special of special Hallmark holidays?
If you detect a note of sarcasm, you’d be right.
There’s an obligation inherent in this “romantic holiday” that keeps me from being a fan. (How does it qualify as a holiday anyway? Does anyone get the day off of work? For the record, I hold this opinion whether I’m in a relationship or not.)
Romance is not a holiday; it’s the spark that keeps love flowing and strong. It should be a 365 day adventure.
I believe this is why so many people love to read romance (not mine of course, I’m not published, but there are authors out there who do a kick ass job in this genre).
The romance novel, be it contemporary, historical, paranormal, young adult, or any combination thereof, inspires hope that romantic love exists. It provides an escape from the drudgery of the day-to-day and allows the reader to imagine herself being swept off her feet by Prince Charming.
We want our fiction to make more sense than our real lives. Even though we know that work and chores and children and bills and taxes are always going to be there to intrude on those romantic fantasies.
And isn’t that why romance books sell?
Because of the fantasy?
I find it difficult to imagine a woman out there who reads romance who doesn’t close her eyes and dream a little dream of a knight in shining armor to carry her away from the laundry and the dishes.
I have a meeting of my local Romance Writer’s Association tonight.
Maybe it’s just me but that seems appropriate for Valentine’s Day, to sit in a room surrounded by others who believe in romance as a 365 day a year event.
I hope that all your days are filled with romance.