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romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 10

I woke up feeling more comfortable and content than I had in months. Nestled against Jamie’s shoulder, I knew it was where I wanted to be.

He opened his eyes and smiled. I loved that smile: The way the corners of his mouth lifted just a little, sleepy eyes taking in all my bedhead glory.

“Hey.” He kissed my forehead. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please!”

I followed him to the kitchen a few minutes later. He was in just his boxers, two steaming mugs already out on the counter while he scrambled some eggs. It was doubtful I’d ever get tired of that sight.

Jamie had been at my door within an hour of getting my call. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed him until he was there in front of me.

He had given me a tentative smile, his hands jammed into his pockets and his shoulders tense and hunched.

“I’m glad you called, Lex. I missed you.”

I had no control over the tears that pooled in my eyes – or apparently over my body. I launched myself at him, knocking him back against the door in my need to be near him. We had peeled our clothes off right there in the entryway, making our way to the bedroom an hour later to do it all over again.

“What’s on the agenda for today?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want. Want to go see the new exhibit at the Art Center? We haven’t been there for months. Or we could scout out some venues. We should know where we’re having the wedding before we decide on the theme or your dress or anything. It might be a tight schedule, but we could still shoot for the original date – ”

I stared at him, my mug frozen halfway to my mouth.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused. My stomach dropped.

“Jamie, I’m not ready yet.”

Setting the spatula on the counter and switching off the burner, he turned his full attention to me. I hated the tightness around his eyes. Actually, I hated myself for putting it there.

“What do you mean? I thought that’s why you called me last night. You talked to your old boyfriend, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but only one.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the cupboard.

“You need to talk to every guy you’ve ever dated before you can marry me?”

Rolling my eyes – so I didn’t have to meet his – I muttered, “Not every guy…”

“Alexis, I understand cold feet or wedding jitters, but this feels like something more than that.”

I cast around for a way to make him understand, but all the words I tried out sounded shitty.

“Lex, it – it feels like you’re looking for a better offer.”

“How could you even think that?”

Throwing his hands in the air, he turned back to the stove.

“What else am I supposed to think? After two years together, I ask you to marry me and suddenly now you need closure.” He was slamming plates and utensils onto the countertop as he served up breakfast. “Your timing is bullshit.”

I had to agree with him.

“Jamie, I’m not looking to start something with these other guys. I love YOU. I want to marry YOU. It’s just…I don’t know how to explain it. This is important to me, to put my past to rest so I can build a future with you. A…forever. And to KNOW it’s forever.”

Leaning over the counter he took both my hands in his. He stared at our hands, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he tried to work out what to say.

When he looked up, the sadness in his eyes was a knife in my chest.

“That’s all I want too, Alexis. A future with you.” He sighed, his shoulders rising and falling. Releasing my hands, he set a plate in front of me, scraping his into the garbage, and walked out of the kitchen. “I guess I’ll have to wait.”

He reappeared half-dressed, carrying the rest of his clothes. Without looking at me, he blew through the room. The door slammed behind him, but I caught his parting words.

“What choice do I have?”

writing motivation

Strength in Numbers

You would think that writing is a fairly solitary endeavor. One person, sitting at a computer – or typewriter, or notebook – creating a new world and new characters. Authors don’t need people around to distract them – do they?

On a whim, I participated in National Novel Writing Month back in 2017, just to see if I could reach that 50,000 word goal in thirty days. It was fun and challenging and I loved every minute of it. By the end of November I had surpassed the word count goal and “won” NaNoWriMo – but that wasn’t the best thing I gained from the experience.

During that time, I attended a number of write-ins where NaNoWriMo participants in the area gathered at a specified location. The municipal liaison, Mary, set timers and challenged each writer to put down as many words as possible. She was encouraging and funny, teasing those she knew and cheering every single writer who showed up.

I needed that.

It was immediately obvious that there was something motivating about being in a room with other creatives. Is there an aura about writers that wafts into the air and encircles everyone nearby, merging with and energizing the other writers in the room? I don’t have any idea, but I sure dig that visual.

What I do know, however, is that this camaraderie between authors is an essential component to my own creativity. I was heartbroken when November ended and I no longer had a reason to meet up with these people – or to write. I hadn’t finished my story but I couldn’t make myself sit down and get to the end.

That is, until I found out about Camp NaNoWriMo.

I gathered my own group, organizing meet-ups throughout the month of April and again in July. We shared our story ideas, asked each other for advice or how to get out of a sticky scene. Over the spring and summer, I not only finished my story but added more than another 90,000 words! Unfortunately, now I am faced with editing that story down to a manageable length.

It’s harder than it sounds…

Now I meet with a group to write every week and I consider these people my good friends, even outside of writing. I continue to plan and organize writing groups for Camps and I find great joy in encouraging others to believe in themselves and in their writing – to an obnoxious extent. When I go more than a week without a writing group, my creativity and my mood suffer. Writing with other creatives helps to keep me motivated and boosts my creativity.

There is definitely strength in numbers.

What creative boost have you discovered that surprised you? Do you prefer to write alone or with other people? Comment below and let me know what keeps you on your creative path!

romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 9

The drive home must have been navigated by muscle memory, because I was far too preoccupied with nostalgia. Memories of Chris flooded my brain, playing like a ‘Greatest Hits’ movie.

I remembered our first kiss, in the laundry room of Kelly’s basement. It wasn’t the first for either of us, but it was ours. Kissing Chris definitely ranked near the top of my list of best things ever.

The first time he told me he loved me, he whispered it softly in my ear. It was a tender and romantic scene – the kind of thing every teen girl dreams about. That is, it was until I blurted out, ‘WHAT?’ because I hadn’t quite caught what he said. He repeated it then – and many times after – but I had already ruined the moment.

At least it was memorable, right?

When I got home, I found my shoebox of high school memorabilia, going for the deep-dive. Some people threw away everything they associated with an ex.

Not me.

I kept nearly everything Chris had given me. Postcards from when his family went on summer vacation; pictures of the two of us from dances or just goofing around; letters he had written me when we were in college. Reading through everything, I was comforted by how kind he had been, how he had made me feel so important. I didn’t want to forget him. I didn’t want to forget the time we spent together. Why would I? Chris was the first boy I ever loved, and part of me would always love him.

Lying on my couch later, staring at the ceiling, I came to a conclusion: While I loved Chris, it wasn’t romantic. My love for him was built of an appreciation for everything we had shared. He was right that our relationship wasn’t supposed to last. That’s not how first loves work.

But god, was I lucky he had been mine.

I picked up my phone to distract myself with some social media stupidity. As the phone came to life, the lock screen picture flashed open and I forgot all about the absurdity of the internet.

Jamie.

His face filled the screen and my heart melted. It had been more than a week since I’d seen him. With one finger, I traced the line of his jaw, the sweep of his bangs over his forehead, the dimples that framed his mouth. He was laughing and reaching for the phone in the shot, trying to stop me from taking his picture.

That was the day he proposed to me.

We had taken a long weekend trip to Scottsdale, trying to escape the frigid Midwestern winter, if only for a few days. Jamie planned a day trip for some hiking and sight-seeing. But before we started the climb, we had been warned by the locals to watch out for snakes. Mainly rattlesnakes.

Jamie had become so paranoid about being murdered by a poisonous reptile that when a rabbit rushed across our path he jumped two feet in the air and screamed like a little girl. I couldn’t stop laughing and had to take a picture of him immediately so I could remind him of that moment long after we had left Arizona.

Laughing almost as hard as I was, he lunged for the phone just as I snapped the photo. I spun out of his reach and he pretended to stumble to the ground. But when I turned, he was on one knee, holding up the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen, asking me to share his life.

I couldn’t dial his number fast enough.

romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 8

“Why did we break up?”

Oops. I had intended to be far more subtle about bringing that up. But I was having so much fun with Chris I had started to forget why I was there.

Blurting it out in such a ham-handed manner was definitely worth it to get a spit-take and a hearty laugh from him, though.

“What?! Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you ever think about it? Don’t you ever wonder what went wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away but shifted slightly in his chair. He drummed his fingers on the table – a move I recognized as his standard stalling tactic.

“Nothing ‘went wrong’ Lexi. Things end.”

“We were in love though, right?”

A beat. “Yes.”

“So why didn’t it last?”

Chris leaned his elbows on the table and stared at me.

“Because we were 17…? I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to last forever. It’s called a ‘first love’ for a reason.”

I blinked. “But how did you know it wasn’t going to last? How is a person expected to know the difference between a fleeting love and…and forever love? Is it even really ‘love’ if it doesn’t last?”

He looked like I had slapped him. Damn.

“You…don’t think it was real love?”

Please, Earth, open up and swallow me. Now.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Are you having some kind of existential crisis?” He sat straight up, his eyes wide. “You aren’t dying, are you?”

Our eyes locked and then we both burst out laughing. That, apparently, was the cue for the waiter to bring us our checks. Chris tried to grab both of them, but I slapped my hand down on his.

“Don’t you DARE!”

“Come on, Lexi. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t pay for dinner?”

I tried to peel his fingers up off the paper.

“The kind of gentleman who is here at MY invitation. This was my idea. I should be the one to pay.”

He shook his head and refused to budge.

“Don’t be a caveman, Chris! I am perfectly capable of covering both checks.”

He glared at me and I glared right back. If he wanted a staring contest, he’d get one, and he would lose.

“God, you have always been stubborn.” He slid his hand out from under mine. “Fine. But you’re not paying for me!”

I grinned and threw my fists into the air.

“Victory!”

He walked me out to my car, showing me pictures of his son on his phone. I didn’t have baby fever – nothing even close to resembling it – but that kid was damn adorable. Curly blond hair, green eyes, chubby cheeks and the biggest smile. The spitting image of his dad.

“He’s almost 5 and he’s my best buddy. I miss him when he’s with his mom, but Angie’s really great with him.”

I handed him his phone.

“Now, I could tell you why that relationship didn’t work out.” He shuffled his feet and smirked at me. “But us?”

Shaking his head slowly, he tucked one of my stray curls behind my ear.

“Chris…”

He took a deep breath. “My mom already told me you’re engaged, Lexi. I didn’t come here with any kind of expectation beyond spending time with someone who was an integral part of my life – of who I am.”

I don’t really know what I was expecting from Chris, but he seemed to know exactly what I needed anyway. He opened his arms and I leaned into him, pressing my cheek into his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles on my back.

“There’s no way to know when love is forever.” He kissed the top of my head. “You don’t read the last chapter of a book first, do you? If you know how it’s going to end…well, what’s the fun in that?”

I sighed and clung to him for a few seconds longer.

romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 7

I lied to my mom.

The first lie was when I told her I had to leave so I wouldn’t be late. What I really meant was that if I didn’t leave right then I wouldn’t be half an hour early.

She was so worried about this, I went out of my way to make this dinner sound very casual and not any big deal – just food with another person in a public restaurant.

That was the second lie.

I recognized Chris’s old pickup as soon as it pulled into the parking lot. How was that thing still on the road? It was ancient when we were dating! But Chris was pretty handy, learning from his dad how to fix nearly everything, so that truck would end up outliving us all.

We hadn’t seen each other in more than five years. A lot had happened in that time. I wasn’t sure what to expect – or what he was expecting. I smoothed my crazy curls and straightened my blouse. Why were my palms so sweaty? I scrubbed them on my pants and waited.

I hated to admit that my heart skipped a beat – or two – when Chris finally climbed out of the truck. That face held so many good memories for me. The blond curls were still there, although cropped a little shorter. I watched him lick his lips once. Twice. Three times -before he had even locked the door. A nervous tick of his that I was honestly glad to see he hadn’t lost. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots with a button-down pink shirt, the sleeves rolled up just above his wrists. Everything about him looked the same and a wave of old feelings washed over me.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

Leaning back in my chair, I watched in amusement as Chris stopped outside the restaurant, checking his reflection in the window. He tweaked a couple of curls, straightened his shirt, and checked his teeth. In the window directly opposite me.

God, he was adorable.

His eyes found me as soon as he stepped through the door and a big grin split his face. I stood when he started toward the table, clenching my hands in front of me to keep them from shaking. When he reached the table, he stopped abruptly.

“Hi, Lexi.”

He was the only one I let call me that name.

“Hi, Chris.”

We stood there drowning in awkwardness. I could sense the tension in him, and it matched mine. We were holding our breath, unsure whether we should hug or shake hands or just sit down. He finally chuckled and pulled me into his arms, kissing my cheek. He wasn’t much taller than I was, but my nose landed in the crook of his neck and I instinctively took a deep breath. Amazing. Just soap, a tiny splash of some nondescript cologne, mixed with his natural scent. And it was intoxicating.

Pulling back, he slid his hands down my arms until he had grasped my hands, giving them a quick squeeze. His green eyes searched my face and his smile grew even wider.

“You look fantastic. Even better than I remembered.”

He held my chair for me before sitting, himself. Head tilted to the side, a smile playing around his soft lips.

“I’m so glad you reached out, Lexi. It’s been too long.”

Our eyes locked and those damn butterflies in my stomach started their enthusiastic romping.

That was the exact moment I knew I was in trouble.

novel editing, manuscript editing, query writing

Behind the Scenes: Editing Week 7

Since this is my first foray into editing my own novel I really had no idea how challenging it would be. I’m still plugging along, but it’s not the blazing trail of triumph I had been hoping for.

One good thing – I don’t hate my story.

I did when I first started, but now I feel a bit more hopeful. At the beginning I was staring down 163,000 words. Well, after seven weeks I am thrilled to tell you that I have pared it down to 147,000. Yikes.

An upcoming workshop I’ll be attending offers professional query letter or partial manuscript critiques, as well as face-to-face pitch options with a variety of agents in attendance. While there will be one agent there that I think would be a good fit for me, I am miles away from being ready for that. Instead, I chose to have both the first ten pages of my manuscript and a query letter critiqued.

That’s some scary stuff.

Preparing the ten pages was, honestly, pretty fun. I rewrote the entire first scene, adding in some dialogue to show what a jerk one of the central characters is. When I shared the new lines with my husband he was sufficiently offended by the passive-aggressive insults, so I think I got my point across.

However, it took me a good three days to write the query letter. Condensing a full novel into roughly 300 words designed to pique the agent’s interest enough to want to read the whole story is HARD. I almost gave up several times, but I had already plunked down some money for this service.

Plus, writing is something I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can remember.

Editing has turned out to be more enjoyable than I was expecting. I thought that I would either sob more frequently or chuck the whole thing in a fire long before now. My goal is to finish up around 100,000 words total – fewer, if possible. There are some scenes that I know are unnecessary and should simply be deleted and there are others that can be rewritten much more efficiently. The trick is determining which is which.

I know this is my own story but I can’t wait to see the finished product! The plan is to have it ready to query by the beginning of summer. Then I need to start editing my NaNoWriMo novel from last fall and have THAT ready to query before November.

And then I’ll start the process all over again.

How do you keep yourself accountable to your editing timetable? What has been the most challenging aspect of editing? I’d love to hear from you – comment below!

 

romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 6

My phone dinged with a text message and I made the mistake of glancing at it.

Call me!!!

Damn my eyes. Just lost any semblance of plausible deniability.

“Hi Mom.”

“Hi sweetie!”

I waited, expecting her to launch into some tirade or another, but she said nothing.

“Three exclamation marks, mom. Is there something going on?”

A beat. “You tell me, Alexis. IS there something going on?”

Jesus. I was in the middle of getting ready to leave the house and I knew better than to let her bait me. But she was my mom, after all. She is a next-level pro at this and I didn’t stand a chance.

“What are you talking about, mom?”

There was an exasperated sigh on the other end, and I almost heard her rolling her eyes at me.

“Patty called me today.”

While this wasn’t shocking news, it wasn’t what I was expecting. Chris’s mom and my mom had become fast friends when we were dating. They lived in the same town and ran into each other periodically, so it only stood to reason that they’d stay on friendly terms.

What did surprise me was that Chris had apparently told his mom he was meeting me for dinner.

“She did, huh?”

“Don’t play dumb, young lady.” She was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was low and quiet. “What are you doing, Alexis?”

Well, wasn’t that just the question of the day? I didn’t have the first clue how to explain it to my mom when I didn’t quite know, myself.

“Have you talked to Jamie recently?”

This question that seemingly came out of nowhere, was just a set up for what would morph into a long and entertaining guilt trip.

“I talked to him last week, mom. He’s fine. He and I are fine. I still love him, we’re still getting married. Just not quite…yet.”

“But why are you going out to dinner with other men if you’re still marrying Jamie? How could you do that to him?”

I held the phone away from me for a moment, pressed against my chest, so I didn’t scream in her ear. Deep breaths, Lex. Think calming thoughts…

“Mom. I’m not going out with ‘other men’. I’m having dinner with an old friend.”

She scoffed. “You and Chris have never been just friends.”

“Mom…”

She wasn’t wrong.

After nine months of dating, we called it quits. It wasn’t ugly, it wasn’t messy, it just…ended. We didn’t see each other at all over the summer, but once school started, we kind of gravitated together. He took someone else to Homecoming, but by Halloween we were thick as thieves again, like no time had passed.

When we broke up the next time, it was harder.

“Lexi. This isn’t working.”

“I know.”

“We’re trying to get back to what we used to be, but it can’t be like that again. We’re not the same people.”

I had wiped the tears off my cheeks, nodding.

“God, I wish we were. I still care about you – I’ll always care about you – but…”

My mom’s voice was droning in my ear. I wiped the tears off my cheeks, nodding.

“I know, mom. I know this seems like a bad idea. But Jamie and I are fine. Chris and I are…just friends.”

She stopped talking. So did I.

“I have to go, mom. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”

“Alexis.” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.”

romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 5

The list was mocking me.

Smoothing the creases out of the paper, I stared at the names written there. And they stared back.

There were five names. I had dated others over the years, but these five were the ones I remembered the best. These were the ones who had the biggest impact on my personality – on my life – and the ones I needed some level of clarity from.

Should I start at the beginning with Chris, my first love? Or should I start at the end and reach out to Joey from college first?

I was still in social media contact with Chris. We were an item off and on through high school, staying close friends into college. I couldn’t help grinning whenever I thought about him. There was an old saying about how you never forgot your first love. That certainly held true for me. Chris would always fill a special place in my heart.

We were barely teenagers when we first became friends. To be honest, middle school – and genetics – hadn’t been kind to me. But there came a point when I was 14 that I decided to make a change.

I had been the quiet, nerdy girl with wild hair and glasses, afraid of her own shadow, ignored in the back of the room. But after a particularly harsh rejection from a boy I had liked, I made a conscious decision to be different. I started participating in class, only raising my hand if no one else would – I mean, boys didn’t like smart girls, after all. I made jokes under my breath that only the people close by heard, but I made them laugh. I talked to the people I was most intimidated by and pretty soon I didn’t have to work so hard.

While Chris was my first love, he wasn’t my first boyfriend. That was Jerry.

Jerry was two years older than I was, cute in a rough kind of way. I saw Jerry at a basketball game and we spent most of the night sharing surreptitious flirty smiles. Until Kelly had had enough. She simply marched over to Jerry, grabbed his elbow, and dragged him over to introduce us. She didn’t know him, she just was tired of my bullshit.

I loved that woman.

Jerry was shy and sweet. He was pretty decent at small talk and was always a gentleman. He’d walk me to class and walk me home after school. He called me every night and gave me daily compliments. Not bad for a first boyfriend! Jerry was not, on the other hand, a very good kisser. He was my first kiss, too, but even I could tell something wasn’t quite right.

Nice guy, Jerry. But it didn’t take long for me to realize there was nothing substantial in our conversations. I was 15! I had read Wuthering Heights, Emma, and Somewhere in Time more than once – I wanted romance. I wanted to be swept off my feet by a boy who could get my heart racing with his personality. Jerry was not that boy. So, I broke up with him after about six weeks.

There’s very little that will boost a teen girl’s confidence like having – and breaking up with – an older boyfriend. From this new self-assurance, I found myself talking to Chris.

He sat behind me in our history class. He was funny and adorable, crushed on by many, but with zero ego about it. He played football and basketball – good at both, but not a star in either. Chris got good grades, he was well-liked by everyone, and didn’t seem to get pulled into high school popularity politics. Chris lived on a farm and belonged to 4-H. He was respectful, got up to some harmless shenanigans with a handful of good friends, and loved his mom.

One day in history class, I turned around and just started talking to him – I must have been feeling a little flirty and full of myself. I don’t remember that first conversation being anything earth-shattering, but I know I turned around the next day, and the next. Then he started tapping my shoulder to get me to turn around. I do have a vague recollection of painting his fingernails one day in class. Why I had nail polish with me, I don’t know. But that adorable, blond, curly-haired boy sat there, listening to me ramble on about what I can only imagine was drivel, and let me paint his nails a fetching shade of pink.

The weeks we spent getting to know each other was exactly what I had always dreamed of. It was so effortless to talk to Chris. I never felt self-conscious around him. We talked about everything and anything. He was smart and funny, challenging me when I needed it but supporting me always. My mom would have to threaten me to make me get off the phone when he and I got going.

He quickly became my favorite person. We sat next to each other on the shuttle bus, finding little ways to touch each other: on the shoulder, or the arm, sitting close enough for our legs to touch. It was obvious to everyone around us what was going on, but neither of us had the gumption to pull the trigger. Until a girl from our class forced his hand.

She turned around in her seat on the bus, sitting up on her knees, watching Chris and me goof around.

“Chris!”

We both looked up and she waved me off.

“Not you, Alexis! Just Chris!”

I rolled my eyes and covered my ears. She pulled a fake whisper – we were on a bus full of high schoolers, she couldn’t have whispered to the person in the seat next to her, much less to Chris five seats back.

“You two are so cute together. Why don’t you ask her out?”

Even years later, that memory made my cheeks burn and my heart race. But that darling young man didn’t miss a beat. He turned to me with a smile.

“How about it? Want to be my girlfriend?”

It was a little blunt – he had been put on the spot – but it had worked on me. I smiled for days. And the girl made sure to take credit for getting us together.

After graduation, Chris’s life took a different path than mine. While we were flirting through emails in college, he and his girlfriend – still in high school – had gotten pregnant and they got married right after she graduated.  They weren’t together anymore, but from what I heard, he was a devoted and loving father and never had a bad word to say about his ex.

I traced my fingers over the letters of his name and frowned.

As Kelly and I were leaving the park the other day, she asked a question that had been scratching at the back of my mind ever since.

“Is there maybe another reason you want to talk to these guys?”

Brushing the dirt and grass off my pants I frowned at her.

“What do you mean? What other reason?”

She shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking. It took her almost a block before she answered me.

“You say you want to talk to them to make sure you don’t screw up your relationship with Jamie. But…” Kelly peeked at me from the corner of her eye. “But could it be that you’re scared you still have unresolved feelings for the names on that list? You’re afraid that you missed something with one of them and you want to just…” She waved a hand in the air. “Check?”

“No!”

My denial was loud and immediate. I had no doubt that I loved Jamie. I could see myself with him for the rest of our lives, raising a family, growing old.

Happy.

But ever since she brought it up, the idea had been burrowing deeper into my brain. Was that my ulterior motive? I mean, my recent behavior was crazy enough as it was. But to think that I was looking to rekindle something with one of these guys from my past instead of being ecstatic to marry Jamie…?

I laid my head on the table, groaning.

What the hell was I doing?

romance, romantic, Valentine's Day

Sappy Stuff for Valentine’s Day

I have had a love-hate relationship with Valentine’s Day for most of my life. It never seemed to live up to the earth-shattering romantic reputation I was sold as a young girl.

Instead, I lived vicariously through the books and movies I cherished so much –  until I found my very own true love.

To this day, I don’t put much emphasis on the holiday. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate romance. In honor of Valentine’s Day, here are some movies, books, and television moments that really mean Love to me.

  • Somewhere In Time

    This movie was released in 1980 – I was nine – and I was immediately swept away by it. The music, the clothing, the charm and beauty of the whole thing still makes my heart swell. I particularly adore the scene where Richard and Elise share their first kiss, full of anticipation and longing and…well, you can watch it for yourselves here.

  • Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

    This is, most definitely, NOT what love should be. Heathcliff is wicked and cruel, Catherine is haughty and vain. Together, they are the epitome of a toxic relationship and everyone around them suffers for it. When I saw the 1939 movie, it drew me in and has kept this tragic story in my heart. The romance of this book might be summed up in this quote: “…so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

  • Love Actually

    Anyone who knows me at all knows this is one of my most cherished movies. It is rife with romantic gestures. While I see many people citing the “To me, you are perfect” scene as the most romantic, I think it’s a bit creepy. Instead, my favorite is the Portuguese restaurant scene in which Jamie butchers the language he has struggled to learn just to profess his love for Aurelia. It is an awkward scene – but also incredibly heartfelt. “…but it’s Christmas so I just wanted to…check.”

  • Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

    I enjoy the television portrayal of this story, but I LOVE the book. Why does a historical novel that is more than 600 pages rank so high on my list of romance? James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Diana Gabaldon has written, in my opinion, the best fictional male character ever. And it’s not just Jamie that speaks to the nature of true love, but the relationship between him and Claire. Their love slowly builds from necessity, through mutual respect, into implicit trust. They support and challenge each other throughout the story and they are, to me, the embodiment of real love.

  • New Girl: “Pilot”

    Yes, the very first episode. This show is one of my favorites and, having been perusing clips for this post, I will now binge the whole series from the beginning. Again. This scene sets the tone for the entire show and is probably one of the sweetest things ever on television. It is bumbling and embarrassing and hilarious. And I hope everyone, everywhere, gets to feel this special at least once in their lives.

  • Notting Hill

    I don’t know that this movie would have worked as well without this particular cast. The chemistry is phenomenal. There are many adorable, tender moments: the “surreal but nice” scene; the “stay forever” scene; and this one where Anna bears her heart and soul. I will watch this anytime, anywhere.

There are, undoubtedly, many other romantic songs, books, movies, and television moments that should have made this list, but these are near and dear to me. Remember that you don’t need a holiday to fall in love or to tell people how you feel. If you tell them – and show them – every day, then every day will feel like Valentine’s Day.

What are some of your go-to romantic moments? Do you agree with my choices or think there are better examples? Comment below!

romance story, romantic serial, short story chapters, sharon clark, Sharon L. Clark Author

The Path of Least Dysfunction, A Series: Chapter 4

Lying on our backs in the grass, my best friend and I contemplated the clouds, letting the sun and the breeze bathe us in warmth.

“Tell me the plan again?”

I rolled onto my side and propped my head on my hand. “Kelly, it’s really not that complicated. I need to talk to the other men I was in love with –“

“Boys.”

“What?”

Kelly flipped onto her side so she could face me. “Boys, Lex. They were all boys. Don’t kid yourself.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, they’re men now. I have a list. It’s not long, but it’s significant. Each name on this list was an important part of my love life, of my growth. I only know my side of things. I want to know theirs. The idea is to find each of them and talk about what went wrong, like John Cusak did in Hi Fidelity. But without the massive ego and the obliviousness to other people’s feelings.”

Laughing, Kelly rolled to her back again.

“Am I the Jack Black character in this scenario, or the Joan Cusak one?”

We both laughed and I told her, “Definitely Joan! It is your duty to be my sounding board and to tell me when I’m being an asshole.”

She paused for just a beat. “Alexis?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re being an asshole.”

I swatted at her, but she rolled out of my reach and splayed out on her stomach while we laughed. She was my best friend for exactly that reason. She saw through my bullshit and wasn’t afraid to call me on it.

She had been around for every name on that list. Starting in 6th grade, when we shared a locker and sat by each other in the flute section of the band. Kelly had shared my joy and dried my tears – and I had done the same for her. When her mom died our junior year and she couldn’t stand being in their empty house all alone, she lived with me until her dad moved back to town just to take care of her. While we weren’t at the same college, we stayed in constant contact and no one ever took her place. She was the one who encouraged me to talk to Jamie one night at a karaoke bar and for that, I would be forever in her debt.

“Do you think this is honestly the best way to go about things?”

I started pulling blades of grass out of the ground, one by one.

“Kell, I don’t know. That’s the worst part – I don’t know! I love Jamie. So much. The idea of not being with him is terrifying to me. But the idea of marrying him, of thinking I’ll be with him for the rest of our lives, only to watch things fall apart is eating me alive. I have to do this.”

Kelly didn’t say anything for a minute, her brow wrinkled as she mulled over my words.

“What did Jamie say about all this?”

I shrugged.

“You know. The same amazing Jamie things he always says: he’d be here when I was ready, that he’d give me all the time I needed to be sure. That he didn’t have any doubts about marrying me. God, he made me so mad!”

She sat straight up and turned an annoyed look on me.

“You need to be medicated, you know that? You need drugs and therapy. LOTS of therapy.”

I grinned up at her.

“That’s why I keep you around.”

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