There’s a new story up. This is another with scenery and people and not as much sex. It’s also not a romance, even though it might look vaguely like it. I’m thinking this is the first of several about Bec and her farm and men she meets, so we’ll see how that goes.
So just to talk about this for a bit.
Bec isn’t looking for love or a relationship – like she really honestly isn’t, not just romance novel isn’t where she actually is but is pretending – all she wants from Rob is sex. Her happy ever after is her own life going on as it was, without interference, and she doesn’t want anything else from him but to get laid. She also doesn’t do anything kinky. She just has sex with someone she meets. Like one person, at one time, repeated on a few occasions.
So probably the smut people will find it a bit dull, and the romance people will hate it because the main character doesn’t really want to fall for someone. And I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, please don’t throw things!
I wanted to try this, but I also don’t want to upset people who are specifically after romance and/or sex, so I don’t know. I’ll try and make it clear when I’m wandering off on a side-track like this.
This has come up in a couple of other stories lately, possibly without me really realizing. So people meet, and hook up, and go their separate ways, and this is about those meetings. They have sex, but without it being hugely kinky or weird, or driven by some dark psychological thing, and without using each other horribly, and they aren’t neccessarily not friends, or lacking in human warmth, and they also do it without finding anything especially wrong – or anything especially right either – about what they’re doing. It’s fun, and something people like to do, and basically, it just is.
And I really don’t know why it’s so complicated to describe what this is as fiction. Maybe it’s too ordinary?
And I also really hope this doesn’t all sound completely fucking pretensious either. I might not be making sense. So sorry for that too.
Gathering my thoughts.
So I don’t write romance. We can probably all agree on that by now. I’ve also been getting vaguely unsettled with claiming I do, because I don’t think it’s true. I write about relationships, which means I sometimes write about how they start, or how they end, and how people fuck each other in the middle of them. Or fuck each other up.
So what I think I’m trying to do here is move away from the idea that a perfect romance exists, and that it follows a particular form or structure, and go more to an idea of what’s just there for someone. If that makes sense. So very everyday and real, but because its still about the start of relationships and what people do, its somehow still tangled up with romance. So what chick-lit deals with a bit, but I can’t write chick lit because I’m the wrong kind of funny. And what family drama deals with, but not that either because that’s always about children, and I don’t have any, so I don’t know.
And now I’m confusing myself.
I also think I want to say something about how not everyone is looking to be swept off their feet. Like maybe what’s there is good too, whatever it is, and I think I want to try writing about that. That feels a bit alarmingly like an agenda so I’ll stop there before I bore the fuck out of myself.
I also wanted to try a bit more of an Australian feel, but not so much it just confused everyone who isn’t from here. So some of the words and things are real, but some are tidied up for overseas readers. Erratically. So Australians, sorry if the local colour seems a bit haphazard, and I hope you understand!
And yes, it’s a fucking ute. I’m just trying to be clear for people overseas because they don’t call it that. Bakkie, apparently, for South Africans. Like a Hi-Lux.
For the non-Australians, weeping gums are usually called snow gums, but I thought snow might be confusing so I said weeping. So the trees are here, and the general area is here. There’s photos on those links, but they’re kind of snowy for the middle of summer. That gives you the idea though. So lots of grass and sheep, rather than red and flat like you’re thinking.
And if you’re doing Australian fiction, it has to be on a farm, it’s just like some kind of fucking rule. So here is a farm!
And now everyone is so confused they probably don’t know what to think.