Despite the fact that we’re really not all that far away from Valentine’s Day—and the fact that I have a romance novel being published in a couple of months (nice little plug there, don’t you think?)—I’m finding it difficult to get into the spirit of romance right now. I can’t be sure, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that I spend five days a week surrounded by runny noses and hacking coughs. And occasional incidents of projectile vomiting.
Triage nurse, you wonder? Or maybe a doctor with the CDC?
No. Kindergarten teacher.
My poor kiddos have been dropping like flies this past month. I’ve gone through so many Clorox wipes that I should have bought stock in the company, but it still feels like the germs are winning. I’m tempted to issue my students facemasks and daily rations of chicken soup; my husband swears by its curative powers.
So it’s a little hard to come home from work right now, fire up my computer, and create a scene that sparkles with romance and wonder. I keep wanting to write something more like this:
Her eyes, so bright with fever, were like heavenly constellations that dazzled Roderigo as he gazed into their glassy depths. Beads of sweat glistened on her brow as she reached with tremulous fingers to bring a tissue to her nose and blow it. Crumpling the used tissue, she let it fall to the floor to join the others that were sprinkled there like magnolia blossoms dotting the ground after a breezy spring day.
“Darling,” she whispered, her voice congested and hoarse from coughing. “I hab neber felt this way about ady man. Come to me, and bring the Vick’s vapor rub.”
Doesn’t quite work, does it? Well, perhaps in the rewrite…