Page 2 of Guys Can’t Write Romance

Chapter two

Writers Groups and Other Contact Sports

Daisy arrived at the writers’ group meeting that night to find Margaret, Olivia, and Ruth already gathered at the long conference table.

That left Bernie, Phil, and Helen still missing.

She deliberately left out Chad. Hopefully, his Jeep broke down, and he wouldn’t be able to make it. She crossed her fingers.

The group met weekly in the back room of the Book Nook Cafe, one of LA’s trendy writer hangouts, with wood-paneled walls covered in art déco paintings of coffee cups, shelves lined with used books, and a coffee bar.

Daisy sat down and spent the next few minutes meticulously arranging her writing materials with the precision of a museum display.

Her notebook sat open, flanked by color-coded pens, carefully arranged in neat ascending color order.

By the time she finished organizing her workspace, Bernie, Phil, and Helen had arrived and unpacked their materials.

That left only one member still missing. Chad.

“Can we just lock the door and pretend we’re not here?” Daisy asked Margaret.

Margaret Foreman, or ‘Mags’ as everyone called her, was the group’s undisputed grand dame and moderator, thanks to multiple rankings on the New York Times’ bestseller charts. She smiled as she checked her watch. “He still has a few minutes. Let’s give him that.”

“Do we have to?”

Mags grinned. “It’s only fair. We would expect the same from him.”

Daisy groaned and sank down in her chair, whispering a quiet prayer.

Apparently, God wasn’t listening that night, as Chad arrived in his characteristic gym clothes and baseball cap a few minutes before the meeting began.

As he hurried over to his chair and sat down, he noticed Daisy’s rainbow array of colored pencils and markers laid out neatly on the far side of the table.

“Chromatic order again?” Chad said.

“Bite me, McKenzie,” Daisy muttered. Why couldn’t Mags have just locked the stupid door?

Olivia Bennett, or ‘Liv,’ as she preferred to be called, a former travel journalist, leaned back in her chair.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” she murmured to Helen Hargrove, who was trying not to laugh.

In some demented way, the group had come to enjoy the bickering between Chad and Daisy. It added spice to the meetings.

Phil Warren, a retired engineer turned thriller writer, cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

As manuscripts were passed around, the anticipation grew. When it was Chad’s turn to present, he pulled out pages that looked like they’d been through a war. Coffee stains spotted the pages, with scribbled notes in the margins and plenty of cross-outs.

“Please don’t let it be another horror,” Daisy pleaded, hands folded on the table and eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Please, please, please...”

Chad grinned. “I prefer to think of them as ‘creative chaos’.”

“I prefer to think of them as ‘unreadable’,” Daisy shot back.

Mags was already enjoying this ‘energy’ immensely. She’d been trying to get these two together for months, convinced they were perfect for each other. “Now, now,” she said, her voice dripping with mischief, “let’s hear Chad’s latest... creation.”

Chad cleared his throat and began to read. It was, predictably, about a group of college students being chased by something slimy and terrifying.

When he finished, Ruth adjusted her glasses. “Well, that’s... certainly something.”

Bernie leaned forward. “Where’s the humanity in the monster, Chad? What drives it?”

Phil nodded. “From an engineering perspective, the viscosity of the slime seems improbable.”

Daisy couldn’t help herself. “I thought you were adding romance to this one.”

“There’s romance!” Chad protested. “The girl and the monster. They kind of connect.”

“And then he slimes all over her.”

The group exchanged looks.

“That’s not romance, dear,” Helen said gently. “That’s a health code violation.”

Chad groaned and shook his head. These people just didn’t understand art.

Next up was Daisy. She pulled out a perfectly organized manuscript, with each pristine page color-coded with tabs.

“My story’s a romance between a baseball player and a female reporter. I’m calling it ‘A League of Her Own’.”

Chad snickered.

Daisy shot him a glare. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She frowned and began reading her heartfelt romance. “Janice awoke to a clear sky that morning—”

Chad interrupted her with a cough. “Let me guess. She meets some guy. They talk. They share mutual fund advice. They kiss. The end.”

Olivia snorted, despite herself. “It sounds very nice, dear. Please go on.”

Daisy glared at Chad. “At least my characters have depth.”

“Depth?” Chad laughed. “Your male leads have all the personality of a soap dish.”

“At least they bathe and aren’t covered in slime.”

Mags grinned with mischievous amusement. This was already better than any soap opera. “Please go on, Daisy.”

Daisy did. And for the next few minutes, she poured her heart into reading her first chapter. When she finished, she set her pages down and looked at the ‘adults’ in the room. “What’d you guys think?”

“I have some thoughts,” said Chad.

“Does anyone whose name isn’t Chad have any thoughts?” she said.

Helen thought about it for a moment. “Maybe a financial planning seminar isn’t the most exciting place for a meet-cute,” she offered.

The others nodded in agreement.

“But this shows the readers that he’s focused on his future. He’s safe.”

“But there’s no challenges and obstacles for them to overcome together,” said Ruth.

“Exactly,” said Chad.

“What would you suggest, Chad?” said Mags.

“It needs some car chases and explosions. Or have them meet on a runaway train.”

To Daisy’s horror, Bernie actually perked to this. “Chad might have a point.”

“A runaway train?” Daisy said.

“It needn’t be anything that Clancy’ish,” said Bernie. “But I think you need to introduce them in a more exciting way.”

“Maybe he rescues her dog that’s run into the street,” offered Liv.

“Or, he chases down someone who stole her purse,” suggested Phil. “He’s an athlete, so show us his athletic skills.”

“You guys hate my story,” Daisy groaned as she sank down in her chair.

“We don’t hate it, Daisy,” said Liv.

“I do,” Chad cut in.

Liv shot him a frown and continued. “We just think your characters should meet over something more enticing that a 401(k).”

“Told ya,” said Chad.

“We’ll prepare some notes on your scenes and send them to you, Daisy,” said Mags. “In the meantime, I have some exciting news to share with the group, with the possible exception of Chad.”

“Why won’t I find it exciting?” said Chad.

Daisy sneered at him. “Maybe it requires talent.”

“Then why aren’t you excluded?”

“Would you kids like to hear this?” Mags said.

“Yes, I would,” said Chad, folding his hands on the table and trying to feign maturity for the first time in his life. “And I apologize for Daisy’s behavior.”

“My behavior?” Daisy said. “You’ve been picking on my writing all night.”

“Critiquing,” Chad corrected her. “There’s a difference.”

“Not when it comes from you.”

Phil cleared his throat and turned to Mags. “The rest of us are listening.”

Mags nodded. “For those of you paying attention, this will be a writing contest for romance novelists. Heartstrings Publishing, which you know is a top romance publisher, is looking for fresh voices. The grand prize will be a full publishing contract and a $10,000 advance.”

Chad’s jaw dropped. He looked at Daisy, who was already snickering, then shot up his hand. “When you say romance, do you mean like actual romance?”

“I do indeed, Chad,” Mags said. “Which means no monsters, no zombies, and no… whatever this slime creature was.”

Daisy couldn’t help herself. She turned to Chad with a smirk. “Bummer, McKenzie.”

“Not so fast, Fields,” Chad said as he sat upright. “I can totally write romance.”

“Yeah, right,” Daisy snorted. “The swamp monster kisses the cheerleader. I’m swooning already.”

“It’s a slime monster. And I can make him swoon-worthy.”

Bernie turned to Chad from his seat in the corner. “You do realize that romance isn’t about racking up a body count before the love scene?”

“What about after the love scene?”

“Still not.”

Chad looked at Daisy, who was snickering. This was so game on.

“Fine. I can still totally do this, even with these crazy rules. And whip Daisy’s butt in the process.”

“You? Write a romance?” Daisy rolled her eyes.

Chad leaned back and cracked his knuckles. “Yup.”

“Bet you can’t,” Daisy said.

“Bet you I can. And I bet mine does better than yours’ in the contest.”

“Not a chance.”

“Let’s wager on it.”

She eyed him skeptically. “What’d you have in mind?”

Chad thought about it for a moment. “How about this? When my novel beats yours’ in the contest, you have to come to my P.E. class, dressed as a zombie cheerleader, and announce to the class that horror is the superior genre.”

Daisy scoffed.

“Getting cold feet over there, Fields?” Chad said.

Daisy shook her head. “Nope. Just thinking of what to have you do when I win.”

“Which is…?”

“You have to come to my class, in full Cupid costume, and announce that I’m the better writer.”

“What’s a Cupid costume?”

“You know, a diaper, wings, the works.”

“A diaper?”

“Yup. Getting cold feet, McKenzie?”

“Nope. Just picturing you in a cheerleader skirt.”

“Too bad you’ll never get to see it, diaper boy. So, are we doing this?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good. Let’s shake on it.”

They reached across the table and shook hands in an exaggerated shake. And then they noticed the faces of the others in the group, all grinning from ear to ear.

“I hope you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, son,” said Bernie.

“Seeing Daisy as a rotting corpse?”

“You’ve got to win first. And frankly, my money’s on Daisy.”

“Hah!” Daisy laughed. “See, even Bernie doesn’t think you can do it.”

“That’ll just make victory even sweeter.”

“You know what,” Mags cut in, “in light of this little wager, I’m pairing up the two of you as writing partners.”

“What?” Chad and Daisy burst out simultaneously.

“You can’t be serious,” said Daisy. “I have to work with it?”

“And I have to work with that?” said Chad.

“Exactly,” said Mags. “And despite this wager, I expect the two of you to help each other.”

“Nope,” said Daisy, with an exaggerated shake of her head. “That’s barbaric, Mags. The Geneva Convention outlawed torture.”

“That’s only in war, dear.”

“Which is what me working with Chad is.”

Chad gave a big nod in agreement. “Sorry, Mags, but I don’t want Daisy boring-up my characters.”

“That’s exactly why I want the two of you helping each other. Now, Daisy, your male leads tend to be… oh, how should we say this… less than compelling. Chad here, in his own bizarre and twisted way, does have a knack for writing characters.”

“That get eaten,” Daisy said.

“Nonetheless, they do keep us turning pages.”

Chad snickered and stuck his tongue out at her.

“He’s sticking his tongue out at me,” Daisy protested.

Mags shot Chad a scowl. “And Chad. Let’s be honest and admit that you don’t know the first thing about structuring a romance novel.”

“That’s what Google’s for.”

“I highly doubt Google can give you the immediate feedback and suggestions that Daisy will be able to.”

“What if we say no?” Chad said.

“Then, neither of you will receive any feedback from this group.”

“That sounds like extortion.”

Mags grinned. “It is.”

Daisy frowned. “What if Chad ties me up and locks me in a trunk somewhere?”

“Then, I suppose Chad wins this bet the two of you made.”

Chad shot Daisy a devilish grin.

“Don’t even think it, McKenzie,” Daisy warned.

Mags sat back and surveyed the train wreck she’d created. A smile curled her lips. “There’s a reason I’m doing this, and I think you’ll figure it out. If you two can harness this — whatever it is between you — I think you’ll have literary gold.”

“Or two dead writers,” said Daisy.

Mags grinned. “It’s definitely going to be interesting.”