Into the Fire

I guess I’m hangin’ out with “the wrong crowd”. But I like them. Very much. We talk thrillers, mystery, suspense. We shudder together at Steven James’ evil characters. We examine the breathless pacing of Robert Liparulo. We love the smack talk of different investigators portrayed by Mark Mynheir and J. Mark Bertrand. We cheer at Mitch Rapp’s justified kills. Hey, we’re “bad”, man.

But I write love stories. Character studies. Everyday life demonstrated through the eyes of different people types. What’s wrong with me?

I’ve got a plot buzzing around in my head that won’t go away. It’ll be a suspense, and knowing me, a romantic suspense. But I’m scared to engage it. It takes a different skill-set. Not sure I can muster it. And then if I do it—and subsequently fail—my wrong crowd pals might raise their eyebrows at me and wonder why I ever thought I could enter into that domain we share as readers, not writers. I might be laughed out of “the group”. Dissed. Shunned even.

But how do I find those in the romance crowd who “get” me? I don’t know where they are. I can’t risk losing my posse, you know? I’m not a bonnet-booker, a sweet-little-romance reader/writer, and I’m certainly not a formulaic/category romance writer. Do I fit in with real romance writers? Doesn’t seem like it.

Either place I might be found in “the wrong crowd” . . .

Lord, you know where I fit. I don’t know exactly where that is. Lead me in your ways and help me to follow close. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.