My Saucy Romance Fiction

Why is that inspiration only seems to come when you have a million other things to do?

Instead of writing an essay on Alexander Pope, I'm writing a Mills&Boonesque romance novella.

And I'm loving it.

This is the most fun I've had since I figured out how to melt chocolate.

It all came about after watching a rather wonderful drama on BBC about romance novels (here's a bit more if you're interested)...and now I'm writing my own.
Not seriously, of course, but just for the sheer fun of it. Because it really is a good laugh.

I'm getting quite caught up in the fictional life of my prim heroine Alexandra and the torment of her secret love for the carefree, spirited David (perhaps we need a slightly more romantic name?). It's liberating to write something silly and stupid - to not care about the language I use or the style I adopt. It's fun, it's great escapism, and it goes something like this:

"...Alexandra was reading quietly on the bench, a slender porcelain leg crossed neatly over the other, her pencil skirt carefully tugged at the hem to cover any offensive overexposure of knees. She appeared cool and unconcerned, but the close observer would notice the care with which she turned her pages, the tilt of her chin, the upright poise of her shoulders, the deft flicker of eyes above the brim of her book; her acute self awareness.
Indeed, Alexandra was feeling incredibly self-conscious. She was not actually reading, but feigning interest in her book simply in attempt to mask her discomfort. She disliked waiting intensely. But actually, she mused to herself, it wasn’t waiting she disliked, it was waiting for him.

‘Still reading your little poems, Lexi?’

Alexandra turned around startled, annoyed at the slow flush that was creeping up her cheeks. Behind her stood David, one hand in his pocket, the other carelessly playing with an apple, which she presumed was soon to be his breakfast.

‘They’re not my 'little' poems, David’, she retorted crossly, racking her brains for a more scathing retort. She hated how he could make her lose her composure with a mere sentence.

‘I’m only teasing, let’s have a look,’ he said playfully, sitting beside her and reaching for the book.

‘No’, she said, snapping the book shut and swiftly tucking it into her handbag.
‘I’ve got things to do, so let’s get this over with..."
(If you'd like to know what happens next, do ask)

It's not good quality, and it sure as hell isn't of any literary value.

But boy, is it fun.