Romance, She Wrote

I’ve been visiting my parents in sunny Florida (sorry, everyone buried in a snow drift), and one of their favorite old shows to watch is Murder, She Wrote, a US TV series from the 80s/90s. It’s about a murder-mystery writer named Jessica Fletcher, portrayed by the inimitable Angela Lansbury. She solves mysteries that she happens to stumble upon in her real life, although personally I always thought she’d be a dangerous friend to have, as people were being whacked around her once a week.

For a fanciful moment, I imagined the TV character they’d make out of me and my romantic comedy writing. I’d travel from town to town jazzing up listless relationships, or giving a reason for a lonely heart to believe in love again. Or maybe I’d just have a collection of hot guys I’d give away to lonely gals (and boys).  Now that I write that, what a good business idea…  I’d bicycle around town like Jessica Fletcher spreading love and not murder, which I think is a good choice.

But that’s kind of what I do, right? I write about love, love that I believe in with my whole heart. Love that heals and bolsters and fulfills. Passion that wakes us up and gives us a reason to keep going, even in the tough times. And the greatest thing I can do is to make somebody laugh, for nothing revitalises the spirit like the joy that comes from laughter. When somebody writes a review and says I made them laugh, I feel like I’ve contributed something good to the world.

So maybe my story could be called Romance, She Wrote (which is admittedly loftier than Smut, She Wrote, although they are both accurate). Lots of folks say that romance as a genre is silly, vapid, poorly written. But I know that we lovers of romance inject delight into the world, and into the bedroom, rawr. And there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.

Now somebody give me a TV show!

Love, Lucy

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