For some reason, I seem to be stuck in link mode this week but what the hey it’s a blog. It’s that what they’re for? If not, they should be. ;p Ahem. Anyway, Lorelei James over on the Samhain Weblog had me chuckling with this little venting session in her post today on her double deadlines:
Why is it so hard for people – mostly people who know me – to comprehend that I can create more than one way for my characters to make love throughout the course of a romance novel? I’ve been married for 21 years for crying out loud. But these same people have no problem at all believing that I can kill and main and eviscerate other humans throughout the course of a mystery novel without batting an eyelash? Hey, I may not have actually had kinky wild sex on the back of a motorcycle or in the cab of heavy construction equipment, or with three hot cowboys at one time (damn) but I haven’t stabbed anyone in the throat either.
Yeah, why is that? 😀
Go check out the rest of the post on your own but I just had to share the part that so struck my funny bone and also is something I’ve thought myself. Well, not precisely, but just the other day I was thinking about the wonderful imaginations writers had to have because lord knows they surely couldn’t do (shouldn’t be doing?) all the things they write about.
Like be serial killers.
One can only hope.