Love is a Rifle

I'm trying to embrace the quirkiness that is my life. Usually, I try to bury my redneck roots under a mountain of books and education and refinement. I enjoy red wine and dark chocolate and intellectual discussions. I also enjoy a cold beer, crass jokes, and walking around barefoot.

I am also a burgeoning romance writer. I've choked on this for a long time. I didn't WANT to be a romance writer. Sure, I like to read romance, but I thought it wasn't "serious" or "literary" enough to be worth the effort. It's "fluff" and I didn't want to write "fluff."

Yet I couldn't stop myself.

The same thing goes for my redneck roots. I try to ignore them as best as I can, but they still break the soil and trip me up. It doesn't help that I married a redneck either who NEVER LETS ME FORGET where I came from.

So, what does this blend of redneck heritage and romance writing have to do with a rifle? Just that when it comes to real love, you can't make this stuff up . . .and it's pretty dang hard to write a romance that rings true.

My darling husband and I had agreed that this V-day was going to be low-key because we're still playing catch-up from all of our wedding expenses. Except yesterday he comes home with a card, two chocolate bars, and a rifle.

Yes, a rifle.

Nothing says "I love you" better, does it?

Nope, mine doesn't look like this. I wish.

Hubby: Look what I got you, darling! Isn't it just beautiful? And you can kill almost EVERYTHING with it. Even an elk! We should go elk hunting. [He strokes the stock like it's a kitten.]

Me: Oh . . .thanks, hun. That was . . .so sweet and thoughtful of you. I've always wanted to kill an elk. [Mutters] Just never realized it until now, I guess. [Takes the gun] Wow, it's . . .heavy. [mutters] And is probably going to knock me on my arse the first time I shoot it. Fun!

The refined, educated, snobby part of me wants to bury the entire gift and the conversation that came with it under a rock and pretend that, instead, he brought me a dozen of roses. Instead, I decided to embrace the gift (and the warped sense of romance that brought it to me) and repay the favor.

So I'm bringing home a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and a dozen roses for my husband. I'm sure he'll love them.

Try writing a romance more realistic than that!