Always I am writing thrillers. So why was I writing a romance? And was it a romance?

I was finishing up my new novel, Bad Side of a Wicked Moon, the second book in my Boom Town Saga Series.

The series is not quite like anything I’ve published in the past.

I usually write noir thrillers, set against the backdrop of World War II or maybe on the back streets of a town where the average man or woman never tread.

Can’t?

Won’t.

No reason to.

Death walks the street.

And sometimes I write psychological thrillers.

But always they are thrillers.

So why am I writing a romance?

And is it a romance?

The novel features a man.

And a woman.

Sparks fly.

Love is kindled.

Sex is implied.

I don’t write traditional sex scenes.

Here is my sex scene:

Eudora sat down in his lap, facing him.

She took a slow sip of wine.

She handed him her glass.

“Some things are more important than oil,” she whispered.

“I’d like to know what they are.” The strain was gone from his voice.

She slowly began unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

She held a sip of wine on her tongue and kissed him.

“I’ll let you figure it out.” Her voice had grown as soft as moonlight.

He heard the distant rumble.

Maybe it was thunder searching for the edge of the earth.

Maybe a train that had already found it.

He closed his eyes to hide the lightning.

Eudora slipped out of her dress and let it slide to the floor.

She kissed him again.

Lightning struck.

That’s it.

As I’ve said before, the reader’s imagination conjures up a scene more torrid than I could ever write on paper.    

The reader’s imagination would probably make me blush.

When I sit down and begin a novel, I knock out the opening and the ending at the same time.

I always change the ending.

But at least I’m headed somewhere.

I didn’t like the ending to Bad Side of a Wicked Moon when I wrote it.

I forced it.

And I knew it was bad.

It didn’t worry me.

When I got there, I would change it.

My characters knew the ending.

That’s what I believed.

I would just follow them and let them write a finish to the story.

I was almost there.

I would wind the novel up before the week was out.

I sat down with my characters in the early morning hours, which is when we usually get together.

“Okay,” I said, “how’s it gonna end?”

Doc looked at Eudora.

Eudora looked at Doc.

Doc spoke for them both.

“We don’t have a clue,” he said.

“At least give me some ideas,” I said.

“Fresh out,” Eudora said.

“Do you live happily ever after?” I wanted to know.

Doc shrugged. “Never have,” he said.

So there I sat.

Four more chapters, maybe five, and it would be over.

So what happens?

My mind was as blank as my screen.

Maybe that’s why I usually write thrillers.

One gunshot is as good an ending as the next.

Please click HERE to find Bad Side of a Wicked Moon on Amazon.