Inkwell Inspirations: Launch Party for Dina Sleiman's Dauntless

Inkwell Inspirations: Launch Party for Dina Sleiman's Dauntless: Win a $250 Amazon giftcard!!!

Hercules Superman Mr. Romance

“Where have all good men gone, and where are all the gods?

Where’s the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?”

Nothing like a good man to make a woman go wild.

A good man?!? Who spiked my chocolate milk? No woman goes wild for a “good” man. Nope. Only bad boys make us pant, roar, and rip our bodices.

One minor problem: The quintessential Bad Boy smokes, dips, and chews and sleeps with any gal or two. Yuck. Call me a prude, but smoking, dipping, and chewing makes a man’s mouth and lungs look like meatloaf. Blech.

“It’s gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet.”

At one time or another we wanted to be Lois on the balcony or Mary Jane braless in a skimpy shirt in the rain. Okay, maybe not the braless part because we're good Christian girls. But, ahhh, the thrill of the rescue and the magic carpet ride.

Only one minor problem: You can’t count on Superhero--any more than Bad Boy--to be home with your kids have the flu or the toilet is clogged because he’s always off saving the freakin’ world. Face it. Lex Luther and Doc Ock just aren’t gonna pause in their quest for total world domination while your SuperSweetheart empties the litterbox. So you’re stuck with the poopy deed. How romantic.

I know many a romance reader and writer insist Bad Boys will always be the ultimate romantic heroes because they’re always redeemable by the “right woman,” but, for me, having the right heroine isn’t enough to compensate for an unrespectable hero. Let Bad Boy keep his meatloaf lungs and mouth to himself and Debbie and all the guys she did in Dallas. The truth is the Bad Boy who lived his life sampling the world’s buffet of women isn’t a hero.

He’s a cliché.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think a guy has to be a virgin to be a romance novel--or real life--hero, either. But a true Bad Boy is more than an Iron Chef of Sex. 

We all have our idea of the perfect guy, the perfect hero, the perfect Mr. Romance. Only a hero is more than an archetype. He is more than a “caricature” of masculinity. A hero is more than a sexy body with a sexy grin and a sexy voice. 

“He’s gotta be larger than life.”

A hero--no matter his archetype or appearance--is dangerous to somebody. His very existence threatens, intimidates, and costs somebody something.

He can’t be ignored.

He won’t be ignored.

Maximus, William Wallace, Neo, Aragorn, Jack Dawson, Jake Sully, Robert Parr, Buddy.

Yes, I mean Buddy from Elf. He was dangerous to the men and women who didn’t believe in Santa, who didn’t believe that inside each person was someone special. His joy pushed people outside their status quo and made a positive difference. Only a dangerous man can do that.

A hero--no matter his archetype or appearance--isn’t dangerous to the heroine. Oh, he definitely destroys her peace of mind, yet he isn’t a physical threat. His very existence confuses, frustrates, and adds something to her life. The poor dear can’t ignore him no matter how determined she is to try, and then we the readers are screaming at him for driving her crazy and screaming at her to give him a heavier dose of his own medicine. Make him suffer, lass, make him suffer! You go, Princess Fiona!

So you turn the page hoping for the first kiss and the second one and the third because you know the kisses will come. Why?

A hero--no matter his archetype and appearance--is devoted to the heroine. But since all men are not all alike, how he shows his devotion depends on who he is. A white knight will save his damsel’s life. The hunk-next-door will baby-sit. A hero’s devotion can be as simple as taking her out to dinner after a long day’s work or more complicated like helping her realize she’s a good mother even if her house is never clean and her son has an affinity for peeing in the flower garden.

“Somewhere after midnight,

in my wildest fantasy…

there’s someone reaching back for me”

“We read romance novels not for the handsome heroes, not for the steamy loves scenes, but for the involvement of the man in the relationship.” ~Vicki Lewis Thompson, author of NERD IN SHINING ARMOR

A man actively involved in the relationship will make his woman go wild. In a heroine’s wildest fantasy, her hero is reaching for her. And through the wind, the chill, the rain, the storm, and the flood, he will be there for her. That’s what defines a romance.

So to you authors out there I say, if you want your Hero (your Bad Boy, your Good Man, your Nerd) to be a real man, make him dangerous. And give him a battle to fight. He’ll love you for it. Your heroine will love you for it.

Most of all, your readers will love you--and him--for it.

The Great Garbage Patch

 

Great Garbage Patch

Recently as I was painting one of the bathrooms in my house, I learned that over seven million tons of plastic is spanning our oceans. A vortex--gyre--of marine litter. No joke. Apparently "the existence of plastic in the oceans is causing infertility." Considering my feet have dabbled in ocean waters (hmm, does the gulf of Mexico count?) twice since I got married almost seventeen years ago and since I have five children, it's obvious the plastic-infected waters have not sterilized my womb. Of course, I could merely be an anomaly.

Could be or could not be an anomaly, that is the question of which I'd need at least half a day to ponder.

Anyhoo, this Great Pacific Garbage Patch spans "the size of Texas." Texas!?! I've been to Texas. It's huge-er than huge and that's not just the hair on the women. (On a side note, I read the other day that you might be a redneck if your stock portfolio consists of two sheep and a goat.) Get this: Imagine Texas-size trash heap floating aimlessly amid all those adorable human-eating sea critters....

Oh. My. Satellite Dishes. Poor SpongeBob and Patrick.

Well, I couldn't ignore this dreadful news so I googled for some pictures to show y'all.  Only I couldn't find any. Oh, I found YouTube videos, even one from a news segment from a national network morning show, but no actual pictures of the vortex so I'm limited to showing you this diagram. Dreadful isn't it?

My mind is swimming . . . I mean, spinning. But what's even more dreadful is the fact no one has pictures of this ginormous garbage. In this crazy day and electronic age when everyone but me has a mobile phone, surely someone with the time could mosey on out to that plastic-filled gyre and take a pic. I want a pic. While in labor with child #5, I suffered through six hours of the Anna Nicole burial trial. I freakin' deserve a pic!

Sadly, it's impossible to take a picture of this watery trash. Why? Experts say, "Since plastics break down to ever smaller polymers, concentrations of submerged particles are not visible from space, nor do they appear as a continuous debris field. Instead, the patch is defined as an area in which the mass of plastic debris in the upper water column is significantly higher than average."

Huh? You lost me at polymer. Is that a cousin to polyester? Machine washable or dry clean only?

So, in other less scientificky words, the reason for no pictures is because "[the garbage patch] is [a] huge pile of trash collectively, but trash so small individually that the patch doesn’t show up."

Oh.

If I understand correctly it's like air: unseeable, untouchable, untasteable, made up of bajillions of oxygen atoms that are so utterly small that we can see them even though we can breathe them. Obviously since I need oxygen to survive and since I'm still breathing, then, ergo, air does exist. Ergo, the Garbage Patch of the Great Pacific and other oceans exists.

Can you hear me sighing?

Call me Doubting Gina if you wish, but for me to believe this votex of swirling semisynthetic organic amorphous solid exists, I want proof. I want a picture! I want evidence! I want thousands of people who believe the Garbage Patch exist to suffer torture, imprisonment, and even death in the name of their faith in the existence of this littery waterworld!!!!!

Oh dear. I just typed five exclamation points. Perhaps I'm being a tad dramatic.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and empty, and darkness covered the deep waters. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. Then he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day" and the darkness "night." And evening passed and morning came, marking the first day. ~Genesis 1:1-4

For many people, the problem with faith is the fact that faith doesn't prove God exists. You know, faith doesn't prove that "in the beginning," God created anything. The age-old faith issue. Does He or doesn't He. In my less-thn-forty-years-lifetime, I've learned that anyone who doesn't believe in God says those who do are narrow-minded. Well, to me, narrow-minded signals an unwillingness to consider other possibilities than what we believe.

I believe God exists and that He created the heavens, the earth, and all things in and around them in six literal 24-hour days. I'd go to my death for that belief. However, I'm also willing to honestly listen to someone explain to me why He doesn't and He didn't.

If you don't believe God exists or that He created what the Bible said He created...well, are you honestly willing to listen to someone explain why s/he believes God does and did create everything? Or are you going to be narrow-minded and insist you're right and no other truth can possibly exist?

Does God exist? 

Click here for some answers or here or take a trip to an Ohio museum.

“But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.” ~Hebrews 11:6