Does a love story need a Happy Ever After ending to be considered a good story?
I know that we all like those HEA endings. Who wouldn’t like the hero charging up on his valiant steed to take his beloved away to a life filled with love and contentment? Who doesn’t want to see them walking hand in hand off into the sunset?
We all like stories that are wrapped up with nice happy bows at the end and leave us feeling that all is right in the world. It gives us all hope that even in the worst circumstances there is a chance that our on stories will find a way to end happily. Doesn’t it?
But does there HAVE to be a HEA? Is a romance still a romance if it’s not for life? Is it still as moving and heart-capturing if it leaves you weeping for the characters? Most of what I write has the required HEA, but my story A Time to Dance doesn’t. Does that make it less of a romance? I say… NO. Sometimes in life in order to see and appreciate the good, the wonderful, the beautiful, we have to also witness the bad, the tragic, and the ugly.
What about Love Story? A very good movie. A wonderful book. An extremely tragic ending.
What about Romeo and Juliet? They overcame so much and thought they had the own happily-ever-after all worked out. Another tragic ending.
So, my question you is this… Does knowing that there is no Happy Ever After make you turn away from a book? Even if it could possibly be a very good read? Do you as a reader need a HEA?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Afterlife
I am now entering my after life.
What?
Glad you asked.
I am about to find out what life is like after kids. For twenty-seven years I lived for my kids. For twenty-seven years they were my very first thought each morning - their first step, their first word, their first day of school, their first loose tooth, their first date, their first car... the list goes on seemingly forever. For twenty-seven years I have been a mum. I will still be a mum, but not in the same way. Who would have thought when I brought each little pink bundle home from the hospital that all the firsts would fly by so fast.
I was secretary and president of the PTA. I helped out with fundraising... I even ran a dance-a-thon... I trudged them to school when they weren't ready for the test, I marched them into the doctor's office when they pulled some foolish stunt and needed stitches or were so ill they just wanted to be in bed with a 'pillow boat'. I watched with amazed pride as they performed and as they graduated. I sobbed as I watch two of them stroll up the aisle on their daddy's arm. I held tight to my eldest's hand as she brought the miracle of my grandson into the world.
Now, my youngest... my last little bird is spreading her wings.
I will be left alone with my second husband for the first time in twenty-two years. Don't get me wrong, we have been alone before, but the girls were always near, even when we were up north they called every day. I still mothered them.
This is different. This is a whole new place I am walking head first into. This is the after life.
Do I even know how to have a life? My own life? What if the girls were the only thing that held hubby and I together? What if he decides he doesn't even really like me? Or vice versa? What will we talk about? What will we do? Of course, his idea of being able to walk about the house totally in the buff with not a worry of being caught is fine for him... I would never be one to reject the chance to see him in his altogether... but I am much more comfortable hiding within the baggiest clothes possible. Maybe part of my new life will be to get back into the shape I was twenty-seven years ago, so I can join him in his altogether.
I'l let you know how I survive this transition. Any and all advice gratefully accepted.
What?
Glad you asked.
I am about to find out what life is like after kids. For twenty-seven years I lived for my kids. For twenty-seven years they were my very first thought each morning - their first step, their first word, their first day of school, their first loose tooth, their first date, their first car... the list goes on seemingly forever. For twenty-seven years I have been a mum. I will still be a mum, but not in the same way. Who would have thought when I brought each little pink bundle home from the hospital that all the firsts would fly by so fast.
I was secretary and president of the PTA. I helped out with fundraising... I even ran a dance-a-thon... I trudged them to school when they weren't ready for the test, I marched them into the doctor's office when they pulled some foolish stunt and needed stitches or were so ill they just wanted to be in bed with a 'pillow boat'. I watched with amazed pride as they performed and as they graduated. I sobbed as I watch two of them stroll up the aisle on their daddy's arm. I held tight to my eldest's hand as she brought the miracle of my grandson into the world.
Now, my youngest... my last little bird is spreading her wings.
I will be left alone with my second husband for the first time in twenty-two years. Don't get me wrong, we have been alone before, but the girls were always near, even when we were up north they called every day. I still mothered them.
This is different. This is a whole new place I am walking head first into. This is the after life.
Do I even know how to have a life? My own life? What if the girls were the only thing that held hubby and I together? What if he decides he doesn't even really like me? Or vice versa? What will we talk about? What will we do? Of course, his idea of being able to walk about the house totally in the buff with not a worry of being caught is fine for him... I would never be one to reject the chance to see him in his altogether... but I am much more comfortable hiding within the baggiest clothes possible. Maybe part of my new life will be to get back into the shape I was twenty-seven years ago, so I can join him in his altogether.
I'l let you know how I survive this transition. Any and all advice gratefully accepted.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
See You Next Tuesday
Okay so I am the first to admit it. I don’t always make a lot of sense. But I just can’t get past this one issue.
I can label the most interesting part of a male’s anatomy with any word possible. It’s a penis, a pole, a shaft, a schlong, a wanker, a cock, a dink, a dick, a knob. And there are many, many more. It all depends what mood I am setting in the scene that I’m writing.
I love words. I love the many different ways you can use words to bring about a plethora of different emotions. I am not a prude. I don’t shy away from using profanity in my writing, if it is called for. I calls it as I sees it, most of the time.
There is one word that I don’t say and find it extremely hard to write or even think. See You Next Tuesday has always been acronym of choice in my house. Now don’t get me wrong I can label the female sex just as fluidly as I can the male, probably more so.
There’s pussy, vulva, lower lips, cleft, box, core, love tunnel, clam, gash etc. etc. I just cannot use that one word. I even understand that it is used freely in some places of the world in very much the way I would use the word bitch, so what is it with this word.
Yes, it’s vulgar. Yes, it was grilled into me as a youth that it is one of the worst words. Yes, I grilled it into my girls that it is by far the most insulting insult possible. But, why? Why this one particular word?
Does anyone else have a problem with this word? Or, do you have a different word that gives you chills? I would love to hear from you.
I can label the most interesting part of a male’s anatomy with any word possible. It’s a penis, a pole, a shaft, a schlong, a wanker, a cock, a dink, a dick, a knob. And there are many, many more. It all depends what mood I am setting in the scene that I’m writing.
I love words. I love the many different ways you can use words to bring about a plethora of different emotions. I am not a prude. I don’t shy away from using profanity in my writing, if it is called for. I calls it as I sees it, most of the time.
There is one word that I don’t say and find it extremely hard to write or even think. See You Next Tuesday has always been acronym of choice in my house. Now don’t get me wrong I can label the female sex just as fluidly as I can the male, probably more so.
There’s pussy, vulva, lower lips, cleft, box, core, love tunnel, clam, gash etc. etc. I just cannot use that one word. I even understand that it is used freely in some places of the world in very much the way I would use the word bitch, so what is it with this word.
Yes, it’s vulgar. Yes, it was grilled into me as a youth that it is one of the worst words. Yes, I grilled it into my girls that it is by far the most insulting insult possible. But, why? Why this one particular word?
Does anyone else have a problem with this word? Or, do you have a different word that gives you chills? I would love to hear from you.
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