Friday, March 29, 2013

Modern Love

I just read last Sunday's Modern Love column in the New York Times, and not only was it really good, I could relate. Probably a lot of people can, since it's about a woman who feels the need to keep a "single girl's starter kit" - the things she'd need to start over -  in a storage unit even after she moves in with her boyfriend of seven years. Because what if things don't work out?

Reading it reminded me of when I moved in with my boyfriend when I was 29. I really wanted it to work out, but in reality, I'd only felt sure of us for the two weeks prior to moving in. In other words, I was insane. But I thought moving in would solve some of the problems we had. It'll surprise no one that things only go worse. It was a rocky, stressful living situation, though I held out hope that we would figure out how to want what the other could give.

But hope is one thing, and certainty another, so all the extraneous stuff from my bachelorette pad was being stored in his basement. For months after I moved in we talked about having a tag sale to get rid of the dishes, silverware, lamps, etc, but neither of us ever pushed it through. Maybe he was as unsure as I was. And move out I did, after 10 months and a lot of misery.

Fast forward six years to me sitting outside my apartment, selling off all my worldly possessions. I felt no pain, no worry. I was about to move in with my fiance and I was thrilled with life. I had a few things that were nicer than his, but mostly his stuff was better, and I was psyched to make a couple of bucks on the stuff I didn't need anymore. My jeans bulged with my roll of one dollar bills, plus a fifty for the futon I'd had since grad school.

I had everything there a person would need for a new start, and in fact a woman in just such a situation showed up early on the first day of our sale. From the little she said, I got the feeling she'd left a bad relationship with pretty much just the shirt on her back. She needed everything from silverware to pots to a microwave, and I was happy to give her anything she wanted for practically nothing. My husband even tossed some things in her car that I'm pretty sure she didn't want.

I had no doubts about what I was doing, no pit of doom in my stomach to pretend away. I had a ring on my finger and was moving in with a guy I'd been sure of within the first couple of months.

But there's also this. My grandmother told my mother she should always have her own bank account, even when married. That was a pretty modern thing to say in the sixties, but my mother heeded the advice and passed it on to me. Mostly my husband and I have our own accounts so we can do what we want without having to explain every purchase. But having my own money also makes me feel safe and ready for whatever might happen. Maybe this is a feature of women who are out of their twenties when they get married. I don't expect to need that money for starting over, but if I did, at least I know I'd have more than the shirt on my back.




Thursday, March 21, 2013

Confession

A month or so ago I saw "Zero Dark Thirty," the movie about searching for, finding and ultimately killing Osama bin Laden. It was more or less what I expected – well done, brutal, thought-provoking and disturbing. But I am embarrassed to say that I also had another, very simple and unexpected reaction while watching.

Lust.

Most of you probably know that Navy SEAL Team Six were the ones that raided the compound. Well, the moment the SEALs came on screen, I was like, I want to get me some of that. The primitive cavewoman living in my head broke free of my intellect and panted over the hunky, sexy, oh-so capable men running around and acting heroic.

Now, clearly I'm not the only one with a thing for Navy SEALs. They enjoy a certain mystique within the general population, and there are a number of romance novels dedicated to SEAL heros. I just had never found myself lusting over them, or the idea of them (since these were just actors, after all). Plus, it was kind of weird timing, since the movie itself is the opposite of romantic.

Nevertheless, I decided I had to read some SEAL romances. I'm evening flirting with the idea of writing one myself, though that would be a ways off. I have done some searching around and found a few, but have only just started reading in this tasty sub-genre. If anyone has any suggestions, please feel free to pass them on. My guess is this is the type of book that's difficult to carry off well, but finding those gems will be worth the effort.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Ben Whishaw and Other Affairs

So I was going to blog about this great new show I've been watching and urge everyone to follow it. But I just discovered (almost a month after it was announced) that The Hour will not be back for a third season (or series, as the Brits say).

This is crushing. My husband and I only recently discovered it. We just finished the first three episodes a couple of nights ago and were ready to be obsessed for the duration. But it looks like the duration will be short indeed. Apparently the viewership sank dramatically in the second series and that was that. Why, I don't know. It features sex, romance, intrigue, and hot first rate actors. I still recommend the show, but you must begin your affair understanding it will burn hot and fast.

Speaking of brief love affairs, one of the actors, Ben Whishaw, starred in Bright Star, a gorgeous movie about the poet John Keats and his love, Fannie Brawn. Theirs is one of the most well-known romances of the romantic poets, thanks to the poems and letters he wrote for her. The movie is perfect and beautiful and everyone should see it.


Sunday, March 10, 2013

The Ins and Outs of Writing About Sex

Friday night was a reunion of sorts for me. The annual meeting for the Associated Writing Programs was in Boston this weekend, and a good friend of mine was coming out for it. Also the MFA program I graduated from over a decade ago had an alumni event as part of the festivities. The alumni event was great, because I got to see my poetry professor and other students I'd gone through the program with. I was pretty serious about writing poetry for years, and I started my historical novel, No Other Love, only a few years out of grad school. But for various reasons I didn't keep at it until I met my husband. At that point I really didn't want to write melancholy poems, which had always been my forte. Not only was I too happy to write that kind of stuff, I wanted to lose myself in another world, preferably one with hot men, great sex, and happy endings.

I don't mean this to sound anti-poetry, because poetry can do what no other kind of writing can. I was just ready for a change. But few people from my writing program know what I've been up to, and I wondered what they'd think, particularly my poetry professor. But everyone was exited to hear what I've been doing, and not only did my professor seem excited for me, he completely understood my reasons for switching to romances. 

So that happened. But I also had an interesting talk with my friend, who was going to be on a panel about how to write sex scenes in literary fiction. Not theoretically, but how to describe the actual act. She wanted to talk about what made a good sex scene, and I told her what a good friend of mine, a fellow romance writer, once told me. Which is that a sex scene should move the story forward. It's like the way musical numbers function in modern musicals. The singing and dancing can't just be a cute, fun interlude, it should push the story forward and reveal things about the characters. The funny thing is this is true whether it's a romance novel or literary fiction. The sex scenes in a literary novel will be far different from what you find in a romance novel, but the general rules apply. Of course, when you get down to the nitty gritty description, we go in very different directions. For instance, my friend decided, after reading her favorite sex scenes, that the best ones were all about the build-up, and the actual intercourse was best left told in as little detail as possible. I agree wholeheartedly that the build-up is the best part, but when it comes to romance novels, I have no problem reading (or writing) about the beginning, the middle, or the end.





Saturday, March 2, 2013

True Romance

One of my favorite movies of all time is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, though oddly enough I have only seen it once, when it first came out in 2004. I realized over a year ago that it was available streaming from Netflix, but I wasn't sure I wanted to watch it with my husband. Why, you ask? Because I was afraid he wouldn't like it, and you know how disappointing it is when you absolutely love something and want to share it with the person you love, and they just don't get it? That's what I was avoiding. The moment of truth.

I've experienced this twice before with my husband, though neither instance should have surprised me. Once was watching the movie A Room with A View, which is a beautiful and romantic movie, but a bit idiosyncratic. My husband was frustrated and felt it was a chick flick and didn't finish it. Which was a bummer. The second time was even more disappointing, because it had to do with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We hadn't been seeing each other very long when I brought my tapes (yes, tapes) to his house. At first he seemed to really like it and I was thrilled. But after several episodes he started getting restless and commented that it was entertaining but silly, and obviously made for teenagers. I was crushed. I wanted him to see how profound the show is and be as deeply moved as I am. But the worst part was that when we watched it together after that, I started seeing it through his eyes, noticing things about it that hadn't bothered me before. I didn't want that to happen to Eternal Sunshine, too.

But sometimes a woman has to be brave, and last night we were searching for something to watch for our Friday night ritual of grilled cheese and a movie. I mentioned Eternal Sunshine and he was game, though he had never heard of it. About 15 minutes into it he said it seemed like a chick flick and I said just forget it, we'd turn it off. He said no, we'd watch it, but I no longer wanted to for all the above reasons I've mentioned (which I have never discussed with him). We went back and forth but in the end continued watching it. Before long I could tell he was into it, and I was loving it all over again, even though a lot of it is painful with its realistic portrayal of how ugly things get at the end of a breakup, and then how lovely they are before things turn bad. I don't want to give anything away for those who haven't seen it, so I'll just say that it's unlike any movie I've ever seen. And yet it's the most beautiful and romantic one of all to me, because in the face of everything the two characters know, they still want each other.

I was teary-eyed when the movie ended, remembering why I'd loved it so much. My husband nodded his head. "Good movie," he said.