Another Feather in the Old, Gaudy Hat

Do I really need another one of these?

I’m increasingly finding myself playing the awkward role of a “stranger in a stranger land” when it comes to my Revolutionary War-era short stories.

Everything is foreign though still vaguely familiar as I stumble around whacking my way through vast jungles of research.

I’ve ensconced myself so snugly in the romance genre that it’s hard to look at facts and figures without wearing the rose-colored glasses of “happily ever after.”

With every tragic situation I read about I have to catch myself from automatically weaving a love story through the twists and turns. (I’m very good at that, by the way. Whatever the heck that says about me I’m choosing not to contemplate. The last thing I need is another feather of guilt stuck into my already appallingly gaudy hat. *chuckles*).

I keep wandering if I should turn around, scamper back to known ground before I get inescapably lost in this new land of historic fiction…

Or should I keep my head high, march into this new territory proudly wearing my romantic heart on my sleeve?

Is it possible to genuinely meld the two worlds into one that would actually appeal to both audiences?

Or would I only alienate both readerships to the point that neither side would give my story a try?

*sighs heartily*

I apologize for their being no rhyme or reason to this morning’s blog.

Sometimes I just need to clear my head of all the petty concerns I drag around along with my delusions of literary grandeur.

I am so very weird.

*sadly smiles*

Until tonight…

Chloe