Jack of Harts

I just submitted a new story to a press I’ve never published with. They publish romance, and I don’t write romance. I write stories about strong men doing daring deeds and beating the bad guys. And I may mix a bit of romance in there. Nothing naughty, you understand, but the relationships between the characters are what moves the stories forward. And a long time ago, I got really sick of a whole mess of “he” in my stories. If a story has a series of “he” and “she” it makes it easier for the reader to understand who is talking. That is why I started writing stories about men and women all those years ago. Just simply targeting readers to make my stories easier to read.

And if I’m going to go to all the trouble of writing them, I’m going to write people I generally like. And that like each other. Because I don’t want to write a story about people who hate each other. And if they like each other, why not play with it? I grew up reading and watching stories where guys and gals liked each other and flirted with each other, so I started writing that in my stories. And things grew from there. I’m told by ladies who read my stuff that I write good romance. So I decided to throw my hat into a romance anthology that asked for no naughty stuff. I much prefer the “fade to black” and “close the door” kind of stories, so that’s right up my alley.

I took an existing story that had been through a few versions. Each one aiming at a different anthology. Each one showing the same basic events but changing the story around them to fit the anthology it was aimed at. I did some minor surgery on it, added a bit more as the thoughts flowed, and I came out with an entirely different story that showed the same events but worked much better than any previous version did. I like it. I hope the ladies I sent it to like it. If they don’t, there’s a real good chance it will show up on my substack or in a collection soon. I like it the way it is and don’t think I’m going to alter it again for another submission. It finally feels right to me. And the artist in me tells me it’s time to move on now.