Caffeine: morning cup so far
Evil Calories: yummy gourmet truffles I got for my bday that are almost too pretty to eat (I said almost!)
Reality TV: American Idol, Hell's Kitchen (which is getting old, by the way. I still love Gordon Ramsey, but the show is getting tired. Top Chef much better)
I've lived most of my life in denial. I don't really have tiny gray hairs sprouting at my temples. Those are just natural highlights. I don't use the 9 way mirrors in the Macy's dressing rooms because I refuse to believe my butt actually looks like that. And lastly, I have never joined the RWA (Romance Writers of America) because I refuse to believe I write romance.
However, according to the RWA website, there are two basic elements that comprise every romance novel: a central love story and an emotionally satisfying, optimistic ending.
Even so, I find myself still fighting it. When I think "romance", I think of a scantily clad Fabio, chest glistening with some Breck-haired woman embracing his groin. But, upon doing further research I discovered something that threw me for a loop. Several of my favorite writers belong to the RWA, yet none of their books ended up with a freaky Italian girly-man on the cover. In fact, all of their books were found in the regular fic/lit section of the bookstore, no where near Fabio's heaving chest.
Last year, I took a class taught by a published writer who made is sound like affiliating yourself with the romance genre was as bad as wearing spandex in public. But I'm beginning to doubt that assessment. And really, I've affiliated myself with far more controversial organizations. I was once an active member of the N.A.T.A.S. (National Anti-Tesh Action Society). We believe John Tesh is alien agent from the planet Echelon and plans on taking over the world.
Hmmm...I suppose there's a possibility that the RWA wouldn't want to be affiliated with me.