I like to consider myself a simple and somewhat normal girl, though like everyone else, I have my subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) desires.
Like most others, I enjoy the simple smell of the country air, the happy smile of my son when he arrives home from school and the simple, but sometimes arduous, task of a clean and well-kept home. I love chilling back with a beer after a hard day’s labour and spending a few well-overdue hours tending to the farm and riding my horse. Yet, no matter where I am, or what I’m doing, I’m constantly thinking of my next hero.
Now, that should not make my husband feel nervous—God knows he’s used to it by now—my mind just wonders to what hero will whisk my latest heroine away from harm or her boring and lonely life.
Heroes come in many different shapes and sizes, though I have to admit the majority of authors (yes—I’m guilty also) tend to favour the six-foot-something, well-endowed, alpha guy as their hero of choice. But in all honesty I sometimes feel that while we do write fiction, reality tends to creep into our heroes also. While I can’t recall reading a romance about a beer-bellied butcher recently, I know that that kind of hero exists—he exists in the form of my hubby. Reality and one’s ideal reality do not always align; but at the end of the day, if that hero lives to make the heroine happy and their love prospers into happiness, doesn’t that make him the perfect hero?
I would have thought so, but then I find myself asking—Why don’t I feature beer-bellied butchers as the heroes in my stories? Well, for one I write historicals and I can’t imagine that there was much pleasant or sanitary about the trade back in Regency England and, secondly, I come home to that reality every day and a part of me—yes, a small tender part—likes to dream about what could have been.
My husband has long come to terms with me growling quietly under my breath as a few, hunky Army men walk by, because he knows, beyond any doubt, that I love him. He is my hero—but who said I still can’t fantasise about someone else?
Without a shadow of a doubt I know this is why I write. Each heroine of mine is created using a small part of me, a part of me that may be somewhat dormant or unexplored. I simply let my desires come out through my fingers to connect with my keyboard.
For example, in The Rose’s Bloom my heroine was very self-conscious about her figure and how others perceived her because of it. All it took for her to overcome it was a strong and gruff hero to make her see herself as more than that stocky daughter with no prospects of marriage. While this is just a small part of who I am and what plays on me, it is still something I needed to get off my chest.
Yes, my hubby would just roll his eyes at me when I told him this, saying he loved me regardless and that he thought I was sexy, what should my insecurities matter? They still remained there regardless and I guess always will. But writing about Claire and feeling how much his desire and love for her overcame her insecurities made him the perfect hero.
Just a little bit of 'eye candy' to finish on, ladies. :P
**This is a copy of the blog post that I wrote to feature on the ARRA blog in August 2013. Chick here! to view the original.