I can hear her now. "Explore taking that out of the piece. Just let the thoughts speak for themselves. Does the reader really need to know your physical state while you wrote this?"
That's what my writing teacher of a few years ago would say to me if I were to submit the next few paragraphs for her critique. However, in this instance I think that you should know that I spent last night on the couch holding my 18 month old son as he slept fitfully through a barely controlled fever. That five hours of alternating between sleep and worrying that your son will roll off of you is inadequate for rational thought, but that it allows for wistful, emotionally laden bits to travel through your mind as you struggle to parent the other two children who are well. Yet, in the scheme of difficulties, this is temporary, but the thoughts that arose in my brain today will stick with me. I will mull them in the wine of my brain and hopefully use the filtered essence for a bit of writing. There could be space in the next novel for these type of musings.
Where is the romance? Where are the stolen looks? What happened to the thrill of just seeing the man walk through the door knowing he was coming to me? Where are those nights of dinner at the restaurant on the coast when the only thing we had to worry about was . . . nothing? How did that thrill become these two people who after putting the children to bed retreat to their computers to type on the buttons either blogging or writing on the next chapter?
Is that why I write romances? Is this why I dream of fictional people feeling those very thrills of first meeting each other? Because, oh my gawd, I felt them once. I had them once. I yearned to see him each day just so I could revel in the fact that he wanted me. ME. And, every once in a while, I see him and fill with joy that he is still with me.
Yet, the thrill of love has transferred to my children. I fall in love with the three of them daily over the tiniest of details. How Inwe's face glows when she sings. How Larien tries to be helpful, but doesn't quite get it right. How Finwe needs me desperately each waking moment. These are my thrills now.
Where is the romance? Do I even want it? We're so solid now. We know each other. Maybe that is why the rush is gone. We do not tread on new ground each time we talk or touch. He's still the person that I want to hold each night as I sleep. We still connect. Oh, who needs romance at this stage of the game?