I’ve Been A Romance Reader Since I was THREE! (A true story.)
I’m a romance author. Which means, I’m a romance reader. Since I was about three years old. Too young, you say? I beg to differ. I distinctly remember sitting on my mother’s lap as she read stories to me, stories that made me believe in Happily-Ever-After and the power of true love to conquer evil.
Three. Years. Old. I read other things later. High Fantasy with dragons and knights and sorcerers. Thrillers, with spies and detectives and murder. I read how-to’s and self-help and biographies of famous people I admired. I read history books and literary fiction because I had to. I read a few classics just to see what all the fuss was about – and must admit I hated most of them. I read Mark Twain and Shakespeare (who I actually rather enjoy, once I get used to the way his words work.) But nothing held my attention, not for long. Nothing but romance.
I keep coming back. Different genres. Different time periods. Sweet stories. Sexy stories. Any kind of story as long as I got my Happily-Ever-After at the end of the journey. Why? Was it because they were the first stories I heard? Did they somehow shape my psyche for the rest of my life?
I don’t think so. I think we are all wired to look for happy endings, to believe in love, to crave connection. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Rose Red? They had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.
So, I love romance. I love happy endings. And now, I write stories about broken people who fall in love anyway. In Crash and Burn, my hero went through hell when he was a child and still struggles to connect. My heroine has a toxic little brother she can’t abandon, and a dream she’s afraid to follow.
Life isn’t easy, and I think romance should reflect that. People hurt and cuss and make mistakes. They run their mouths when they should keep quiet and make assumptions they shouldn’t. And above all, we are all too hard on ourselves. So, yes, I’ve been a romance reader since I was three. Now I write love stories about tough people who fight and cuss and live life out loud. And I’ll be eternally grateful to my mother.
Hugs and Happy Reading!
Amanda Adams fell in love with books at a very early age. Her earliest memories are of sitting on her mother’s lap reading Cinderella and Snow White and Rose Red over, and over, and over again until she had them memorized “- she was too young to know the alphabet. Amanda started writing stories in big, sloppy handwriting in a wide-rule notebook when she was bored, during class (of course) in the fifth grade. Her favorite stories always include excitement, adventure and a handsome hero guaranteed to sweep her off her feet. Amanda lives in beautiful Colorado with her husband (her high-school sweetheart who proved the reality of “love at first sight”) and three teenagers whom she reminds, repeatedly “If it’s not in my phone, it’s not happening, because her mind is oh-so-often far away living a fairy tale. (That’s code for “if an alarm doesn’t go off, she forgets to pick up her kids from school”.)
Don’t miss the latest from Amanda at AmandaAdamsAuthor.com!