I’ve always heard that you should write what you know.  Because historical romance novels were my jam back in the 90’s, I always figured I would go that route.  Sweeping romances taking place in historically significant times.  Heaving bosoms, throbbing manhoods, plagues, pirates, royalty…it all seemed so grand.

It recently dawned on me that:

a) I don’t know enough about history to weave it into the background of a plot.  I could figure it out but I don’t know if I’m dedicated enough to that youthful dream to make it happen;

b) All the good euphemisms for boy and girl parts have been taken.  Can you beat “curly triangle of desire?”  I think not.;

and most importantly, c) I suck at relationships.  I’m not a romantic.  I find relationships to run the gamut between annoying as fuh and completely stifling.  I’ve never had a true romance, sweeping or otherwise.

Write what you know…I can write about bitter disappointments, cheating bastards, and glaring assholes.  But that doesn’t really scream romance.  Maybe it’s just me.  So what is it that I know?  Uhm.

What if…?  I’m really good at that one.

Shoulda.Woulda.Coulda.  Also a talent of mine.

Debbie Downer.  Somethings just come naturally.

Epic Fails.  Don’t be jealous of my fabulous life!

Whereas sarcasm is my lifeblood, these aren’t exactly topics that scream, NYT Best Seller List.  Not that I’m aiming that high, but everybody needs a dream.   What to do?  What to do?

Back to square one:  I want to be a writer when I grow up.