I write a lot. Actually, I rewrite a lot.
Whether it’s these Romantic Memos, a software contract or a card for my sweetheart, the process is similar.
- Start with an idea or goal.
- Write down thoughts, adding words I know need to be improved, or concepts I don’t want to forget.
- Go through it, blowing it up, rearranging words and the flow of ideas.
- Go through it yet again, modifying words and sentence structure.
- Repeat several more times.
- One final read, catching spelling and grammatical errors.
Finally, it’s done. My masterpiece. It reads good. It conveys the ideas I want to communicate.
And inevitably, someone will point out a simile that crossed paths with an adjective and resulted in a parenthetical collision.
It wasn’t perfect.
What happens when you plan the most perfectus Romantic Interlude and it’s not perfect?
- You buy flowers and discover the stigma stained your sweetheart’s shirt/blouse.
- Dinner’s hot. The wine chilled. The candles lit. And the glasses streaked.
- You arrive at the concert hall, dressed to the nines, and discover the tickets are for a different night.
Life doesn’t travel smoothly in a straight line. It has bumps and bruises. Mistakes are made. Unforeseen traps snag your feet. It isn’t perfect.
Romance isn’t perfect. “Success” in romance largely depends on what you do when things go wrong.
In my writing, I know it won’t be flawless. There’ll be blunders making my English teacher cringe.
Instead of beating myself down for the flaws, I ask, “Did I communicate my message?” Knowing I have, I take courage to write again.
When you find that mistake with your Romantic Interlude, ask yourself, “Did I romance my sweetheart?” When you know you have, take courage and romance again.
Robert, a hopeless romantic
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