There are many kinds of love. I was talking about writing romance last night over dinner. The love relationship in my stories is usually hero/heroine. But yesterday I was writing a scene where an older man was thinking about his wife of almost 30 years, who had passed on, and how he missed her, and how he’d wished they’d had children so some part of her remained in his life.
He was talking with another man of about the same age, who had children, but not the devoted love relationship of the first man. And yet, there was a deep committed love in his life as well, and from that common space between them, they could cooperate and focus on a common goal. These are secondary characters, allies of the Hero.
Have you noticed the pure love a baby gives when he smiles at you? I see my grandson light up when my son walks into the room. It is almost a religious experience for me. And I say that with all due respect to every religion.
Love heals. I believe in this with every fibre of my being. Take something flawed, something broken or damaged, and add a loving relationship, and you have something that can mend, become greater than it was before. This transformational love is what I write about.
I’m sitting in a restaurant now, and there is an old woman who is in some pain, with a bandana on, indicating to me she is undergoing some radiation or chemotherapy treatments. She is sitting next to a son who appears to be devoted to her. She leans against his shoulder and he lets her rest her head. She smiles and mumbles things, and he is attentive. Her husband looks stressed. He frowns, is preoccupied. I understand his pain. At least I think I understand his pain.
My Angel will be released sometime in May. I write about how a Guardian Angel loves her work, and her charge so much, she will give up immortality to be with the man she was created to love. I can’t wait for you to read it.
What do you think about love? What inspires you when you hear that word? Or when you hear the name of the person who is your true love?