I love that line from Taylor Swift's "Sparks Fly." It summerizes how many of us view the early stages of attraction. Now, I've been with my husband for over 11 years and am still absolutely head-over-heels for him. But I remember those days during our first year when he could do no wrong, when everything about him made my heart flutter and my breath catch... when I was totally captivated by the essence of him. Those are moments we live for, moments we love to experience first hand of through the eyes of another.
Love, love, love!
Yes, I'm obviously one of those women who love a good love story be them fiction or real life. There's just something about the whole chemical response to love, longing, lust, turmoil, and happy endings. And, based on the full theater of females at both the "Beauty and the Beast" and "Breaking Dawn" showings yesterday, I am not alone.
Seriously, the theaters were full both times. How many of us spent $12 per ticket and a good $30 at the concession stand to take our kids see a movie that we have on DVD at home? And how many Twilight fans have honestly NOT seen "Breaking Dawn" yet seeing how the movie opened back in Novemer?
But none of that matters, much to the chargin of our boyfriends and husbands. We'll go again and again and again. We want to be a part of the story, even if just as a bystander. We want to experience the magic of Belle falling in love with the Beast and getting her happily ever after. We want to watch as Bella marries Edward and struggles to bring his child into the world. We want to experience their hardships -- Belle escaping Gaston or Bella struggling with her feelings for Jacob. We want to experince their joys, their passions, their tears, their fears.
We seek out forms of enteratainment to fullfill that desire -- books, movies, songs, and plays. We lose ourselves in these stories despite the snide comments about them from our loved ones. My husband, for instance, never fails to make fun of my obession with love stories or football (read: Tim Tebow) when he gets the chance.
Classic example: Last night, as you already know, I went with some girlfriends to see "Breaking Dawn: Part 1" ... again. (I love me some Jacob Black!) Well, stupid me, didn't realize that I was going to miss the first half of the Broncos/Pats game. My dear hubby made sure to keep my up-to-date with texts about my man Tebow.
Being an Eagles fan, he takes great pleasure in other NFL teams losing. And, being a Tebow hater (blasphemy!), he was no doubt chuckling as he sent each score update last night. I finally told him to stop watching the game because he was jinxing them. You can see his response, which was the icing on his hater cake.
That is honestly how he sees stories like Twilight. He thinks they are porn for women. Something to which I just close my eyes and shake my head.
I digress, though. The point of this blog is about my love for love.
I began conceiving the Harbinger in the Mist trilogy while living in the swampy, live oak rich town of Walterboro, S.C. In certain areas, Colleton County is timeless, romantic. The idea of ghosts, angels, and demons walking beside us, interacting with us intrigues me. And, in such a history-rich area, the story seemed as real and possible as the lives of the people waking down Main Street.
I could see vividly Lindsey's predicament, Eli's infatuation, and the twins unending mirth. I could feel the instant attraction, the budding love affair, and the inevitable separation of Eli and Lindsey. I began jotting down pieces of their story in a Dollar Store notebook that I carried with me everywhere. I poured over Gustav Davidson's "A Dictionary of Angels: including the fallen angels" at the local library. I checked it out so many times that the libarian once asked why I didn't buy a used copy off Amazon.
Those notes eventually took the form of a 45,000 word story and steadily grew over a two year period. I have finished the first two books and am doing research for the third. This brings me great joy because the story, like everything else in life, is constantly evolving.
Lindsey's story has grown to include a second love interest and a conflict with her best friend. Her mother's past troubles her and she spends a lot of time pondering right verses wrong. She doesn't always think clearly or do the right thing. Sometimes you just want to slap her.
But that's what I like about a love story -- something that makes me passionate about the characters.
As I start writing book three, I hope that my readers feel the same way about the characters as I do, that they want to scream at them, applaud them, to hug them. I hope they feel bursts of emotion and flutterings of the heart. I hope that you are utterly captivated by them and their affairs.
And isn't that what a good story is all about?