My Imperfect Hero
Reality Check
Hi, everyone! You
all know I'm an avid reader as well as a writer, right? *stirs cream and sugar into coffee* Feeling
like a little sugar coating might be in order today, coffee wise anyway. I'm
talking about a topic that's near and dear to many a heart, romance. The BIG L.
Love. But be patient. I'll get to my feelings
on love a little bit later, for now...Let's talk about reality. The BIG R.
There's ongoing
debate in certain circles over reality in romantic fiction. In my own fashion, I support both sides of
the argument. *sips coffee* Yeah...it's mighty uncomfortable up here on
the fence post. Then why sit here?
Because I think you have to strike the right balance between reality and
fiction in your writing.
Pure reality? I
don't want that. I live it. It wouldn't make for exciting reading, let me
tell you. I read to escape reality. At the same time, I need some foundation in
reality to relate to. I usually like
this reality to connect me to the characters. Because I am not going to enjoy
reading about people I don't like, you know?
We've progressed
some in this venue- in m/f fiction I see that heroines no longer have to be
princesses...beautiful, thin blondes, with perfect features who are loving,
kind, moderately intelligent, but not ambitious. They no longer have to be
virginal, innocent and un-kissed. Covers show buxom ladies and ladies with eye
glasses...ladies with guns and ladies in marital arts regalia.
But our
heroes. I read comments every now and
then, that lead me to believe we have a double standard. Heroes are still
unutterably handsome. They might be
handsome geeks, they might be attractively scarred, or they might be short. Still,
they are never overweight, squinty eyed, or bald by nature not purpose.
Beyond physical
appearance though, the men of our romantic fiction haven't changed much. People
expect the men in our books to be noble, brave, intelligent, strong. All the
positives one could ask for in a partner or spouse. I read a comment on a book
review the other day, where the reader described the character as selfish, self
centered, and childish, concluding with "Who could love a man like
that?"
Reality check,
reader. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I've heard happily married
women describe their husbands in just those terms. "He's so selfish." "He's so self-centered."
What really
bothered me about that comment was that it seemed to imply that the hero didn't
deserve to be loved, because he hadn't earned it. Is love something we have to
earn? Or does it just happen? Should only perfect people, noble people, brave people
be loved? I think this is where I have to insist on reality in my fiction. I'm
not a perfect person, and if only perfect people deserve love, I am so fucking
screwed.
. Fortunately for
me, I have my own imperfect hero in the other room, selfishly watching
television while I work away here on the computer.
What do y'all
think? Should a hero be flawed? Do we have to earn love by being flawless? Are
there exceptions? Flaws you will tolerate, flaws you won't? In reality, in fiction?
For me, I'd prefer
to be loved by a man who sees my flaws and loves me anyway, as I love him. And
those are the types of characters I prefer to read about- ones I can identify
with.
And in that
spirit- meet Valentine Michael's- a selfish man who nevertheless deserves to
find love and happiness, and Adrian Gray the loyal, but manipulative man who
loves him.
The Librarian
Blurb
Valentine Michaels has just taken a vow of celibacy.
Adrian Grey intends to take full advantage of that vow to
re-create his relationship with Val.
Val is at a
crossroads in his life. A college dropout, he's gone as far as he can in his
career as a cosmetologist, owning his own style salon. He no longer finds
satisfaction in it, though he's put years into proving to his bigoted parents
that a college degree and the veneer of straightness aren't the only roads to
success. They'd turned their backs on him, and he proved he didn't need them to
make it.
His love life is
no better than his working life. His relationships always start with a bang and
fizzle into boredom, or worse, anger.
Adrian has his own agenda for helping Val:
he's been in love with Val since they were freshmen. The intervening years of
listening to Val's gossip about his lovers and relationships have taught Adrian
just what it was he did wrong all those years ago, and he thinks this time around
he now knows exactly how to get—and keep—his man.
Excerpt
Adrian writing in purple ink stunned him more
than the idea that Adrian
had a crush on him. After all, they'd been down that road once before. Purple
ink was so not Adrian.
Black. Or Blue. Traditional. Classic. That was Adrian.
"Yeah, did
you like it? Here, grab a cup of coffee and a pastry and let's take a
walk." The other man turned and walked out the door, apparently assuming
that Val would follow.
Val grabbed a
coffee and hurried to catch up with Adrian.
Jeez. Now what would he do? He had to let Adrian
down gently. No sense ruining what had been a perfectly good friendship. No way
could he ask Adrian
to help with the redecorating project now. Distance, not closeness, was called
for.
"Listen, Adrian, we have to talk. I
really meant it when I said I'm not interested in men right now and
honestly," he touched the other man's arm sympathetically, "you're
just not my type, you know? So, much as I appreciate all the little gestures, I
just feel friendship for you, okay?"
The other man's
blue eyes sparkled at him, in apparent—amusement? "Are you done,
Val?"
"Well, yeah,
that's what I wanted to say. No hard feelings, right?"
"Right, Val.
Let me set you straight on a few things before we talk about feelings, okay?
First of all, I noticed you were down Friday, so I sent you the flower, yeah. I
love those bird of paradise flowers. The colors are so sunny and cheerful. Then
this morning, I wanted to talk to you about something, and sorry, but the coffee
and pastries were as much because I knew I'd be hungry as for you. Yeah, you're
hot as hell, but I know I'm not your type. And you know I know it, too. That's
why you've been ramming tales about your wild and crazy love life down my
throat for the past ten years, isn't it? I've heard about every new man as soon
as you've met him, and every break up when it inevitably comes along. Why do
you do that, Val? It's not for your own benefit, you know? You've been making
sure that I knew that you weren't interested in hooking up with me all these
years. I fucking get it, okay? You don't seem to see that I'm not the same man
today as ten years ago. And that's your loss, not mine. I've done things,
experienced things in the last few years that have helped me define who and
what I am, in and out of bed, Val. Too bad you can't say the same."
Val swallowed and
pulled his hand back. He shook his head as his brain whirled trying to keep up,
to comprehend all the data Adrian
threw at him in one long speech. "Whoa. Sorry. I just talk while I'm
working, you know? I... Shit...sorry."
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