Apparently, today is “International Kissing Day.” Who comes up with these days, anyway? Kissing, I feel you should know, is a favorite activity of mine. But, I’m not doing any kissing on International Kissing Day which is a damn shame. I am working on a novel again, however (thank you, sweet baby Jesus). As I write a new love story, (the secondary plot) and think up ways to draw these two together, I’m personally feeling a little neglected in the romance department (haha). Because I write about love and relationships, I’m always looking for inspiration anywhere I can find it (since romance in my real life is non-existent).
Here are some favorite quotes about kissing & a couple favorite scenes from my favorite fictional movie characters:
“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.” ― Sylvia Plath
“Now a soft kiss – Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.” ― John Keats
“No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind (Rhett is terribly misunderstood & was far too good for Scarlett)
“When my date takes me home and kisses me good night, if I don’t hear the philharmonic in my head, I dump him.” — The Mirror Has Two Faces
“I didn’t want to kiss you goodbye — that was the trouble — I wanted to kiss you good night — and there’s a lot of difference.” ― Ernest Hemingway
“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.” ― Ingrid Bergman
And my favorite: “I’m so glad they still work. I haven’t used them for kissing in such a long time, more like for wearing lipstick and whistling.” — Diane Keaton in Something’s Gotta Give
Have any favorite love stories from books or on screen, that you’d care to add to my list?
The day I was born, a violent storm ripped through town. It was the stuff legends were made of – or so I’ve been told for the last forty years. Walls of torrential rain fell, washing away hillsides, leaving homes teetering on cliffs, flooding streets, downing trees, and pelting everything in sight with hail. When you grow up in a desert, this is significant news. The newscasters from the city called it the storm of the century. Law enforcement had to pull people from their trapped vehicles. In the midst of it all, I came into the world screaming like a banshee on the side of the road – my parents unable to reach the hospital. Instead of a sterile hospital room, I made my appearance in the world, with unforgiving amounts of rain pouring down on my dad’s truck and the scent of the desert in a storm – unlike anything in all the world – reminding my mom we lived in an unforgiving desert, harsh and brutal. And then all at once exquisitely beautiful, as the colors take your breath away – as the sun rises and sets and when the night sky tells the story of the Creator’s sovereignty. Under those clear skies, not marred by a city skyline and lights, you can feel Him, right clear through to your bones. I decided long ago, the desert is the best place to find Him – brutal and harsh though it is.
My Mom and Grandma would tell you that’s when they knew. “It’s a sign,” they used to say, when the story of the storm and my birth would be retold. Most of the time, it was followed by, “She’s destined for great things.” I come from a long line of strong women. But they were all tied down by the past and the generations before them. Everyone one of them struggled to claw their way out – each barely scraping by and stepping one step further than the one before. Somehow, I became their opportunity. I would be the one. You will be the one, they all told me. These words have played like a song on repeat, in my head – for as long as I can remember. It defined me. My will is indestructible. I have survived what most could not.
I tried to set my world on fire – as they dreamed for me. I worked harder than everyone around me. But still, in all the years of sacrifice, hoping to live up to the expectation, there’s always a faint scent of disappointment because I’m not what they imagined. I have toiled unseen and unnoticed. There’s nothing great about me.
That is, on my own, there’s nothing great about me. I’m half of the puzzle. The rest of the pieces were missing until the day my world collided with his. I questioned everything until that day.
I was born to love you, I say to him every chance I get. I know this now.
I wasn’t the storm destined for greatness. He is destined to shake foundations and change the people and places he touches.
I was born in the storm, so I would know him when I saw him.
I mentioned recently that I’ve started a new novel. This is certainly not a final product, since I’m only 10,000 words in, but here is the “blurb” I’m using to describe the novel now.
Ellison Whiting writes bestselling novels about families and relationships. She has made a name for herself – doing just that. Her novels become movies. Her fans become so invested in her books, she sometimes questions if they realize they’re fiction. Ellison Whiting’s problem is she writes novels about families and relationships – but she’s never known what it is to be in a family, or a healthy relationship, for that matter. Abandoned by her mother as a toddler, she is convinced of one thing and only one thing – based on the necklace with her few belongings – she was born by the sea. She’s spent a lifetime imagining her life before foster care. After another break-up, after a long string of break-ups, she decides it’s time. She leaves California behind, to uncover her history – along the coast of North Carolina – where she finds the family she’s always wondered about. But at what cost?
Here’s a brief excerpt.
“The secret to writing a great book is that there is no secret. Just a lot of hard work. I’ve written a fair number of bestsellers over the years. The kind that get you movie deals. They’re all still in development, by the way. I have a loyal fan base that would buy anything with my name on it, even if it’s awful. The truth is, everything I’ve written the last two years has been crap. I tried. I’ve tried. But when Carter left, something in me died. It’s not exactly like he was my muse. Honestly, he sucked at being in a relationship. It’s just that he’d been one of the few I’d trusted and that went right the hell out the window along with my will to write about love and family. I’d had a long string of relationships that never went anywhere. That’s the irony of course. I make my name, tons of cash, and I happened to garner critical success – writing about love and family – of all things. My books aren’t romances per se. They’re women’s fiction. I write about women and their relationships – motherhood included. It just so happens each book has a very strong romance element, even if the protagonist’s love interest is a secondary character. My most popular books, without a doubt, however – are love stories. The weirdness of writing a life I don’t know and have never experienced, is not lost on me. But I guess sometimes we know best, what we’re missing. That certainly seems to be the case with me.”
You can read the opening paragraph of Sea Glass Hearts, here. You can see my Pinterest, inspiration board, here. And yes, of course I have a Spotify playlist, too.
As a kid, I wrote a lot of poetry without understanding much about it. I still don’t know much, to be honest. As an English major, I cut my teeth on poetry – starting from the beginning of recorded literature. Any English major that doesn’t know the pain of Beowulf (reading, analysis, and paper-writing to follow), is no English major at all. 🙂 I can’t tell you how many times I had to read The Canterbury Tales. I’ve taken entire classes on poetry. There are poems that stir my heart and inspire me. I adore children’s poetry books. But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that I’m not talented enough as a writer, to attempt anything but free verse. And even still, I stumble around with words and phrases. I compose these words on my heart. But write I must – even when I stumble and fumble.
The words are all I have to give – though I long to give more.
I’m new to the Paramount Network show, Yellowstone. I watched the first three seasons over the Memorial Day holiday weekend, thanks to Hulu. And now I’m obsessed. I can’t wait for season 4. The show reminds me, in a way, of a western Sons of Anarchy. It’s not as wild and violent as SOA – although still violent. I also think there’s something a little more redeeming in most of the lead characters at the Yellowstone ranch. Or perhaps the crimes committed are done for reasons that I’m more comfortable with (haha) than the gun and drug running on SOA. Anyway . . . I digress.
Unexpectedly, my favorite storyline in the series became the love story between Rip Wheeler & Beth Dutton. In the beginning, I was so caught up in what was going on with the family and ranch overall, that I missed some of the Beth and Rip stuff. I had to go back and re-watch parts of season 1 to settle into that. The relationship between John Dutton and Rip is also a favorite. The scene where John gives Rip the house, as an early inheritance, and calls him “son” in the letter, was awesome television – especially considering how long Rip had been on the ranch. But back to Rip & Beth. With Beth being the bad ass, wild woman she is, it’s not surprising her love story would become my favorite part of the show. There are some great scenes between them – so much so that YouTube has multiple video compilations of their scenes together.
While I have quite a few top moments, my favorite scene was a little scene that isn’t even popping up in most of the stuff I’ve searched for online. But it reminds me of those sweet moments in the beginning of a relationship when you’re becoming more comfortable with each other and you’re sort of settling into the fact that this thing is sticking around for a little bit. Maybe that nickname or pet name slips out and before you even realize it’s happening – your favorite person is now “Baby or Babe” or whatever.
The scene, on the steps of Rip’s cabin, is:
Beth: You are many things, Baby, but funny is not one of them. Sorry. Rip: Mmm. Call me that again. Beth: Call you what? Rip: Baby. Say it again. Beth: You like that, do you? Rip: Mmm. Yeah, I do. Beth: It’s OK, baby. Rip: What should I call you? Beth: Wife. [pause] I didn’t mean that.
If you’ve watched, you would know that there’s a lot to their story – so this isn’t exactly new love (hence the wife comment). But they’ve never truly been in a relationship up to this point. Though there are many scenes to love, as I mentioned, that one got me right in the feels. I also have a major nickname habit so maybe that’s why I loved that even more.
Since I can’t share a clip of that particular moment, I’ll share a couple others . . .
As a writer, my favorite books, movies, and television shows are always those with complex characters. And for me, that means there are times when your “relationship” with them is complicated. Maybe there are some serious greys in their character? Maybe you’re left trying to decide if you like them or not because they do jacked-up crap (like some of the stuff John Dutton does or asks his people to do)? Either way, the author clearly knows how to write characters that are equally flawed and lovable.
As I’ve been working on my novel, A Thousand Years, the first two people to read the first draft had some words to say about my protagonist’s love interest. I happen to think I write some pretty lovable male love interests. I love Gray Ford (love interest in A Thousand Years). But I didn’t write him (the first time), in a way that rounded out who he is. I had the image of the man and his type, what his struggles and quirks would be – but most of what I wrote was of the flawed side of him. Though I loved him and saw in my head the complete picture, it was hard to see what was lovable in him, in that first draft. Granted, I wasn’t writing a happy story in the first half of the book. I just forgot to show more of who he is (underneath all of his dumb decisions).
It’s in shows like Yellowstone that I’m reminded of how much I love writers for their ability to shine a light on the best and worst in us. Beth Dutton is larger than life. You’re definitely unlikely to meet someone quite like her, although I wish I could be Beth Dutton-ish with some people (haha). Her beauty is in what she has become because of her trauma and loss. Rip loves and takes care of Beth unconditionally, he’s extremely loyal, and he would do anything for his “family” – but the best and worst in him, also comes from trauma and loss. There’s beauty in the brokenness (I think). And Beth and Rip are broken individuals – who love each other fiercely and unconditionally.
Beth doesn’t hide one single thing about herself from Rip – including her heart and tender side. The fact that Rip loves her at her best and worst, knowing all of it, is a beautiful thing. I hope to always write that way. And maybe someday, my Rip Wheeler will show up?
“It’s only the things I love that die, Rip, never me. Come to think of it, I’m surprised you’re still standing.”– Beth Dutton