Tag Archives: sunday scribblings

Family matters

Two Peas in a Pod

I have to admit it: When I first saw what this week’s Sunday Scribblings prompt was, my immediate thought was of Two Peas in a Bucket, a Web site dedicated to scrapbooking.

But then I glanced over at the bed in this hotel room in Terre Haute, Indiana. My husband and my daughter. Poppy with one hand on the day’s first bottle and the other playing with her father’s ear, her hair sprouting up from the top of her head. Rockford dozing off just a little with his arm firmly wrapped around his girl.

I don’t have time to say more. But I don’t really need to, either.

They’re my most favorite peas.

Family matters

… earliest memory

I’m 3, maybe 4. I’m still an only child.

Sunday Scribblings

It’s early evening, I think, and my dad comes home from work. He swoops me up, and I start patting around on his denim jacket.

I’m looking for a treat.

I ask, in my little toddler language, if Dad’s brought anything home for me.

And he has.

A Butterfinger.

Still my favorite.

Bandwagons

The Books I Would Write

When I was in college, I once found a book about romance novels in my adviser’s office. The book listed every major romance publisher and included, in great detail, what they looked for in a book. They all had very specific formulas:

Plucky/strong-willed/self-sufficient heroine meets wealthy/heart-broken/arrogant stranger, conflict ensues, conflict is resolved, couple is married. The listings even spelled out how much lovin’ each publishing company looked for — and they ran the gamut from chaste smooching to make-a-girl-blush action.

So I sat there and flipped through this book and thought, “I could do this.” And I thought I actually might give it try. It wouldn’t take all that much effort, what with the formula spelled out right there in black and white, and it would be a nice source of extra income if I could get it published. I even had my pen name picked out.

I’m not sure why I never gave it a go. It still seems like not a half-bad idea. Except that I laugh at the titles and the book covers next to the check-out line every time I go to the grocery store. I don’t know if I’d be able to take my own story seriously, which I’m guessing would make it difficult to write a solid, convincing romance novel.

Maybe the better title for this post would’ve been “The Books I Didn’t Write.” Or “The Books I Haven’t Yet Written.” Doesn’t that make your heart skip a beat?