Two Guys, Working Shit Out–

A story in conversations

 

By Amy Lane

 

With my publisher, about Gambling Men: The Novel:

Me:  I don’t know– I mean, it’s a little thin, right? No dead horses, no guys going to war, no career in pro basketball.  Are you sure it’s okay?

Elizabeth:  No—I swear. People will love it. Two guys just working shit out—that’s what people really want to read. Trust me!

 

With my editor, in the margins of Behind the Curtain:

Editor: This is fun!  I love the banter.  Please tell me this continues like this.

Me: uhm…

Editor:  (After Jared shows up at the airport sick and coming down.)  You. Suck. I hate you I hate you I hate you. You had a perfectly sweet little college romance and you do this to me? I’m not speaking to you anymore.

Me:  Yeah, sorry about that.

Editor:  Whatever happened to just two guys, working shit out?

 

With my best friend, as I’m working on Bitter Taffy:

Me:  Are you sure this is good? You know how usually there’s some more drama in my stuff.

Mary:  I swear to God if you give the dog cancer, I’ll never forgive you.

Me: Clopper? No!  No—I already killed Gonzo the cat in the first one. No dead animals—that’s not what I’m talking about—

Mary:  Do you know what you’ve put me through this year?

Me: Yeah, it’s been sort of a rough—

Mary:  John? Do you remember John?

Me:  Well, that wasn’t my fault—I mean, Dex ended with him in rehab, that was gonna go dark from the very beg—

Mary:  Deep of the Sound? You remember that, right? Alzheimer’s, severe mental illness—you put me through that. You did that to me!

Me:  There was always Food for Thought!

Mary:  What in the hell—25K of fluffy?  That’s all I got? We had babies falling out of windows!  We had books where the lead dies halfway through the book!  And hey, let us not forget Immortal, where it’s all okay because everybody’s fuckin’ dead!

Me:  Yeah. It’s been sort of a rough year.

Mary:  You owe me this, Lane.  This is a sweet, delicious, confection of a book. You will not give anyone cancer, you will not hit anyone with a car, you will not kill off any animals.

Me:  Okay, fine, but—

Mary:  There is no buts. There is only two guys working shit out. There is only two guys working shit out. 

Me: Fine. Two guys working shit out.

 

Between me and my publisher, upon submission of Bitter Taffy:

Elizabeth:  That was great! I love this book!

Me:  It’s Mary approved.

Elizabeth:  You need to listen to her more often.

Me:  Well, you know. Two guys, working shit out.

Elizabeth:  It works every time.

 

 

So—Bitter Taffy is out this week.  Seriously, it’s just two guys, working shit out—much like it’s predecessor, Candy Man.  I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, every so often, I need to write a book like this.  And I loved writing this one so much, that I’m working on Lollipop, the sequel, even now.

Because that’s the heart of romance sometimes.  I mean, yes—I’ve written lots and lots about how romance covers a broad spectrum, and about how at it’s heart it’s that our personal dramas matter, and I will argue my right to write an unhappy ending and call it a romance as long as there is breath in my body.

But sometimes, when we pick up a romance book, we want to be comforted. We want to escape into a world where we know the characters will be safe. We want to know the conflict isn’t going to destroy us and there will be very few tears, and those wounds will be gentle and easy to heal.

Sometimes, we want two guys, just working shit out.

And that’s Bitter Taffy. 

Enjoy.