As the first draft of Heavy Ice lumbers towards completion, there are things I begin to realise. One of them is that I could write flowery declarations of love when I was fourteen; but now I am forty-one (or at least, I will be tomorrow) and I have a ton more experience and yet writing love scenes is much, much harder. It’s not fair that it’s this way, but at least it’s rewarding when it works.
Also, I am in a desperate state of wanting people to love my heroine, and yet knowing that when writers go on about how much they want people to love their characters it tends to make me take against that character out of sheer cussedness.
Image © FreeFoto.com