I’m terrible at it.
Once I learn something, it’s ridiculously hard and rather painful to
ever get it out of my head again. (Think a crowbar trying to budge a three
bedroom Brownstone.)
Yeah, a useful trait in academia. Not so nifty in historical romance.
As I continue to wrestle my way through writing the Six Brothers
project (100k historical mainstreamer, if you recall), I’m finding myself
having to shove a lot of facts into the “Forget you ever knew that” closet.
All romance authors participate in some level of selective ignorance
(i.e. bathroom breaks post sex, post-coital sheet messes, etc.). However, in
historical romance there are literally tomes of stuff you’ve either just got to
leave out or lie your butt off about.
Fine and dandy, I suppose, for a regular minded soul. Not so peachy for
a perfectionist riding an OCD high.
So if I turn up missing one day, check the “Forget you ever knew that”
closet. I’ll be hiding out there with the heroine’s tampons.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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