What People Think I Do: Whisper Confessions of Great Romance Under Candlelight.
What I Actually Do: Fight an Overdue Deadline with a Mug of Tea and a Cat on My Keyboard.
Let me set the record straight. As a writer who specializes in historical romance, people often assume my life is filled with unapologetically dramatic grand gestures, gratuitous silk robes, and poetic musings delivered while gazing wistfully out of rain-spattered windows. In reality, my job is less Hollywood romance montage and more... well, Word document chaos, rogue snack crumbs, and late-night existential debates with my cat, Baozi, who’s disturbingly indifferent to my creative process.
But myths about writing—and specifically about writing romance—abound. So, pour yourself a cup of tea (or that third glass of wine—I won't judge), and let’s unpack a few lies about what it means to be a romance writer and the often-surprising truths behind the scenes.
Myth 1: Romance Writers Must Be Romance Experts
Let’s banish this idea right now: romance writers are not sirens of seduction living in an eternal whirlwind of perfect dates, flawless flirting, and unbothered heartbreaks. If you think my life mirrors the sweeping love stories I write, let me assure you the closest I’ve come to romance recently is shouting at my stubborn rice cooker because the jasmine rice I burned was supposed to accompany my solo “romantic” dinner.
Truthfully, my longest relationship has been with the iced coffee sitting next to me as I write. Like everyone else, I’ve navigated the mortifying crush phase, awkward first dates, and heartbreaks that felt like they’d swallowed me whole.
Here’s the thing: great romance writing doesn’t come from having flawless love stories of your own. It comes from understanding love—the messy, beautiful, contradictory ways it works (or doesn’t). Some of my best plot twists emerge not from some epic personal love affair but from a fight I overheard in a Beijing café, where a man accused his fiancée of secretly hating his taste in dumplings. Real love is in those messy moments—and that’s where the magic of good romance begins.
Takeaway: If your love life isn’t perfect, don’t let that stop you from feeling like a romantic expert of your own making. Lean into the flaws; trust me, they inspire more than perfection ever will.
Myth 2: Writing Romance Isn't "Serious" Writing
Oh, this one. The patronizing arched eyebrows. The thinly veiled condescension of people who ask, “But when will you write a real book?” It’s as if romance, apparently, isn’t eligible for words like “real” or “serious,” despite composing the majority of books sold worldwide.
Let me paint you a scene: I'm sitting cross-legged in my living room, constructing the perfect romantic conflict. Do I send the star-crossed lovers into a torrid breakup because of familial expectations, evoking echoes of Romeo and Juliet's tragic fates? Or do I lean on a culturally rooted tension, like the demands of filial piety butting against modern independence? These aren’t just fluffy musings—they’re carefully constructed stories that examine identity, tradition, and how love challenges us to grow.
I grew up with parents who instilled in me a reverence for great literature, from Li Bai’s haunting lines of longing to Gabriel García Márquez’s lush magical realism. Writing romance isn’t any less nuanced or artful than their work—it simply asks different questions about the human experience.
Takeaway: Romance explores one of life’s most vulnerable truths—how fiercely we long to be understood and loved. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. You’re allowed to love what you love.
Myth 3: Writers Have Unlimited Creative Freedom
Ah, the glamorous idea that writers flounce around at our leisure, inspired only when the muse appears, and free to write our deepest thoughts with abandon. If I worked that way, my editor would send me an unusually polite but barbed email asking if I had “forgotten” about deadlines again.
The truth is, writing—while magical—is also work. Frustrating, unsexy, sometimes infuriating work. My mornings begin not with languid inspiration but with a checklist: “Fix subplot pacing. Research 18th-century court etiquette (again). Figure out if anyone still reads footnotes, or delete the whole section.” More often than not, scenes don’t come together smoothly; it’s six drafts in, staring at my laptop like it owes me money, before the ideas fall into place.
But surprisingly, working within constraints can be liberating. Knowing my heroine has to choose between love and duty encourages me to dig deeper into her character, her history, her pain, and her resilience. Love is boundless in theory, but stories illuminate its boundaries—and that’s where it comes alive.
Takeaway: There’s no shame in working hard at things you love. Creativity isn’t something mystical; it’s resilience dressed up in a flowy cardigan and oversized glasses.
Myth 4: Romance Writing Is All Love, All the Time
News flash: writing romance isn’t just candlelit dinners and epic confessions. There’s a weird amount of grunt work involved. I spent an entire afternoon recently Googling the tensile strength of silk (because of an overly dramatic ripping-clothes moment), and I once ruined my week researching historically accurate diseases that could cause an attractive cough in my hero but wouldn’t kill him too quickly.
There’s also a surprising amount of heartbreak in romance writing—whether in building breakups into a plot or revisiting years of personal love stories to mine for emotional truth. I draw so deeply from my own life that sometimes, it feels like I’m re-living an old wound: the last words of a three-year relationship, or the surreal, bittersweet moment of falling out of love with someone while you’re still holding their hand. It’s cathartic, yes—but never easy.
But you know what? Writing romance has also taught me incredible things about healing. There's a reason all my books (spoiler alert) end with hope. Sure, heartbreak might define a moment, but it doesn’t define us. That belief—that open-ended hope—is as much for me as anyone who reads my words.
Takeaway: Writing and life aren’t just about joyous beginnings or deep heartbreaks—they’re about finding the courage to move forward into whatever comes next.
The Beautiful (Messy) Truth About Love and Writing
Here’s the most surprising part about my job as a romance writer—it’s not all that different from real life. Love in fiction, like love in reality, depends on people willing to show up for one another, acknowledging the mistakes they’ve made along the way. Writing is labor, yes, but it’s also an act of faith: I’m crafting something I hope will land in a stranger’s life just when they need to hear it most.
No, my days aren’t filled with serenades or the lingering scent of roses. But every now and then, after hours of wrestling with words, I stare at a scene I thought I’d never finish and realize I’ve written something true and beautiful. And if I can do that, on some chaos-riddled Tuesday in Beijing with my cat, Baozi, hissing at me to feed him, then hey—cupid’s arrow might just find me, too.
So whatever myths the world spins about your work—or your love life—know this: it’s messy because it’s deeply human. And that's where stories, and love, are most powerful.
