I’ve published five books and so far managed to skirt the ‘romance’ issue. But, I’ve received feedback making me think twice about my conscious decision to steer clear, ‘I’ll read one of your books when you put in some romance,’ or ‘Is there any romance?’ This feedback pressed heavy as I contemplated my next book project.
The biggest obstacle for me is the begging question, ‘How do you get romance into your story?’ I’ll bet there are writers out there who’d counter with a knockout comeback as follows: ‘How do you not get romance in your story?’ And, I confess, they’re right. Like it or not, life stories include romance. Romance goes with life. It’s always there, somewhere. It may be out in the open. It may be hidden. It may be beautiful. It may be exhilarating. It may be awkward. It may be embarrassing. It may be ugly. It may be nuts. But it’s there, no escape. So, how can I write a heartfelt story and ignore it? Therefore I made a decision, my next book project will include romance. I’ll tackle this personal challenge head on.
I derived some inspiration from an unlikely author, Ayn Rand. In ‘Atlas Shrugged‘ she describes the most vivid ‘romance’ scenes in a way that leaves you knowing exactly what’s happening yet leaves no ‘offending after taste.’ I marveled at her romance scene writing ability, giving me confidence to ‘take a crack at it.’
So, in my latest book, ‘The Adventures of an Air Force Medic,’ I’ve taken a crack at throwing in romance. I didn’t do it as a filler. I did it because it’s part of the story. You can’t do life – real life – without romance. I figured, if I wanted to inject more ‘real life’ into my story, then I had to include the “R” factor – Romance. So I did.
Now, this is the part of the article where I hand things over to you. I’ll let you be the judge. I’m looking for your feedback. Did I hit the mark? Did I miss? Did I even step up to the plate?
The scene takes place at the edge of Folsom Lake near Sacramento California way back in 1982. The main character Sean is lakeside with a co-worker Arlene. Here’s the chapter …
Folsom Lake
Arlene asked, “Sean, have you been to Folsom Lake?”
“No, the only place I’ve been to off base is the airport and that’s when you picked me up,” I replied.
My sponsor, Arlene Walgate, stopped by the dormitory unannounced. I’d been at my desk studying when I heard the knock at the door. I figured she made the early evening visit as part of her sponsor duties, but her question about Folsom Lake created a surprise, catching me off guard.
Then she explained, “Well, I want to take you out there, it’s nice. Great place to go for a drive, get off base. You been cooped up here for a while, be good for you to get away from the dorm.”
I agreed. Her enthusiasm captured my imagination, got me wanting to see Folsom Lake. I never heard of Folsom Lake and had no interest in seeing it until Arlene showed up that evening. I liked the idea of getting out of the dorm; getting off base, see if the outside world is still there.
Besides, how could I pass up Arlene’s offer? My opportunities for off-base adventure were limited. I had no easy way to do it, no car, and no plans to get one. So, Arlene’s ‘get off base’ offer had tremendous appeal.
Side by side and almost in-step, Arlene and I walked out of the dorm and straight for her light blue dented-up Volkswagen beetle. I squeezed my six foot frame into the passenger seat and the beetle took off for Folsom Lake.
The drive through the northern California cityscape and landscape gave me a particular impression. To me, the city of Sacramento looked ‘brand new’ not a scratch on it. The buildings looked new, the roads new, even the people appeared ‘shinny’ and ‘polished.’
My brain worked to contrast this ‘California look’ to my back home ‘New England look.’ Back home we have things like – potholes. They live in the road, big open ‘wounds’ you dodge while driving; left there from ‘frost heaves’ – which is a buckling of the road due to a mismatch between the weakness of the roadbed compared to the strength of Mother Nature. We have grey, worn down buildings, beaten into old age and wrinkles from decades of harsh cold winters and sweltering hot humid summers. In winter, we have people bundled in oversized winter coats, second hand store hats and gloves wandering the streets and probably homeless. In summer, we have overcrowded beach towns where the streets are dirty and speckled with litter from uncaring visitors.
California – at least the part around the base – had none of that north east coast weather worn look. To me the area looked as if ‘the queen lives here and her staff is on duty twenty-four-seven to keep it in immaculate condition.’
Arlene looked younger than her twenty eight years and two children. I looked up to her as a mentor. She had a friendly yet businesslike approach.
As the sputtering, convulsing, dented up Volkswagen traversed the pristine Sacramento countryside roads, Arlene dumped her life story on me, “I’m from Nebraska, joined the military to get away from my ex-husband. What a jerk. But, at least I got two gorgeous daughters out of it. They’re so good, look after themselves. Living on-base makes things a lot easier. No crime. Neighbors keep an eye on things. Good community. I wouldn’t want to live off base. Base housing is one of the best benefits of being in the air force, saves me a fortune. I couldn’t live off base on my pay.”
We arrived at Folsom Lake. Arlene parked the car and we strolled along the shoreline watching the sun go down. Then Arlene popped the question, “Sean, do you have a girlfriend?”
I knew the answer to that easy question, but it made me wonder, ‘Why is she asking?’
“No.”
“Oh good,” she relied.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, I just like to know so I don’t get into all kinds of trouble. I hate it when a girlfriend gets all jealous and starts kicking up a fuss. I don’t like to deal with it.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I inquired.
“Cause I like you. And if anything happens it’s better if there’s no other girl involved, makes things easier, keeps it simple. I like it that way.”
My mind started racing, ‘Woah, this girl likes me? She said it. I had no idea cause she acts so military and by the book. I thought she just wanted to go for a ride, being nice, show me around, that’s it.’
I wasn’t interested in Arlene as a girlfriend. I didn’t find her physically attractive. Her skinny frame suggested she needed to eat more, a lot more. Her dirty blonde hair hung lazily down to her shoulders in frizzy light strands, not a full body look. Her pasty white skin screamed out, ‘give me sunlight.’ Her skinny face matched her skinny frame. And she had ‘personality teeth.’ That’s a euphemism for crooked teeth.
And, yet I liked her. I like her boldness, her straightforward approach to life. I liked that she told me what’s on her mind, what she wanted. I found it refreshing, exciting.
I started to warm up to the idea of making something happen. I had no girlfriend; I wouldn’t be cheating on anyone.
I opened up and entered Arlene’s world of boldness, “How ‘bout you, you got a boyfriend?”
“Hell no. Why would I want a boyfriend? Pain in the ass. I was married for seven years, that’s enough. Now that I’m single, why would I want to ruin it? I got my freedom, I do things my way, I don’t need no boyfriend to mess it up.”
I thought, ‘Way too honest for me. This gal is blowing me away with her straight forward, tell-it-like-it-is dialog.’
“So you never want to get married again? Never even have a boyfriend again?”
“Oh, I might have a boyfriend if the right one comes along, somebody I can stand, but as far as getting married goes, not ready to even think about that one. My first marriage was such a disaster; I don’t want to play that game again, not for a long time.
“What about you, how come you’re not married yet?”
“Looking for the right girl.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say.”
Arlene boldly placed her hands on my waist and then started rubbing my back and shoulders. I liked it. I appreciated the attention. I changed. I felt attracted to her.
“Yeah, a guy like you should have been married by now. You’d make a good catch. Surprised you got away.”
By this time, she had me eating out of her hand. She knew what to say and how to say it. She complimented me, made me feel important, gave me her entire attention. I liked it. OK, I loved it. My air force career so far had been characterized with getting ignored or getting scolded for doing something wrong. Now, here’s Arlene complimenting me, building me up; telling me I have value. Wow, I’m listening with everything I got. Life’s good.
I placed my arms around her and the conversation stopped. No more words spoken. We collapsed into each other and ended up sharing the California lakeside earth together.
Photo by bngdesigner, Bingo Naranjo on Pixabay
