I have a new project.

Of course, it’s also a not so new project. I gave my very first manuscript a quick read-through this weekend. Then I hit the delete command. It’s gone. But not forever.

I’ve always thought A Twist of Fate was my most creative story idea, and it is unique for the romance genre because the hero and heroine are married and in their early forties. I love these characters like they were real people. So I have decided to take the skills I’ve learned over the years I’ve been writing and recreate their story from scratch. Once I made that decision, it was like embracing an old friend.

With the frustration that comes with waiting and waiting as I try to publish, I sometimes lose my enthusiasm. My critique group says I write like the Energizer Bunny. I probably average 20,000 words a month. But the last two months, I was struggling to put new words on the page. I’ve always preferred editing and revising to churning out new material. And my frustration just gave me an excuse to avoid what I don’t consider my favorite part of writing.

Once I made the decision to try and write this story again, I found my enthusiasm — in bushel baskets. I’m back to what it was like when I first wrote the book. I’m happy to sit at my laptop and type away despite anything else that’s going on around me. I needed a shot of motivation. This first story provided it.

Wish me luck.

I hate retirement.

Not retirement from teaching. (Snorts a laugh at that notion.) I didn’t start teaching until I was thirty. Retirement from the classroom is decades and decades away. Besides, I still like teaching. I found out over this long weekend that teaching is good for me. It keeps me from compulsively checking my email.

What I miss is contesting. I gave myself a year to enter — mostly to see if someone other than the members of my critique group would appreciate my stories. Allow me a quick pat on the back here. I finaled five different stories in nine different contests in that year. I achieved more than I’d ever imagined or hoped for.

But I miss the expectation of wondering if I would final. I miss the adrenaline rush that came whenever I did. And I miss the reassurance that comes with knowing other people think I have talent. This is a cruel business with more people telling you what you do wrong than what you do right. Any pat on the back a writer can get is valuable to helping her keep her motivation and an eye on her ultimate goal.

Along the way, I’ve made friends. Some through thank you notes I sent where the judges contacted me after the contest. Some through working with coordinators. Contests have allowed me to network with other writers. I’ll miss those opportunities.

I’m bowing out because I proved my point and because I have the debt of two college educations. Love you, Laura and Kevin! While contests are nice, I simply can’t afford to be a diva. I’ll just have to publish the old-fashioned way. Sending out stories and pounding the pavement.

But I miss it more than I realized I would.

I’ve been tagged.

Stephie Smith has tagged me. While I normally don’t play along with blog tags, Stephie is too sweet to turn down. I won’t, however, tag new people. Too much like a chain letter.

So I’m supposed to tell you six unimportant things about me. Hmmm…

1. I sing along with the radio, the iPod, whatever I’m listening to. It’s kind of embarrassing when someone catches me at it. Not that I’m a bad singer. I’m just not ready for American Idol. Funniest thing is when my son’s home and we’re listening to the radio as we drive somewhere. We tend to listen to Broadway, so you’ll hear us belting out something from Rent, The Music Man, Wicked. You name it, we’ll sing it.

2. I have a soft spot for animals. I even get teary when I see one that has been hit by a car, lying on the side of the road. I have a cockatiel who is older than dirt and a dog named Dr. Carter after Noah Wiley on E.R.

3. I cry over good stories and romantic movies. Dippy, I know. But when something moves me deeply, I just can’t seem to stop myself from responding. The number one tear-jerker for me is Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightly. When she tells her father what she honestly thinks about Darcy, and he tears up, I lose it.

4. I am chronically early. Whether for appointments, deadlines, anything… I am the person always there ahead of schedule. This is my sister’s fault because she is chronically late. If I hadn’t been blessed with a very understanding Algebra teacher, I’d probably still be at Woodrow Wilson Junior High serving afterschool detentions for tardies that weren’t my fault. Thanks, Mr. Atkinson!

5. I finish other people’s sentences. An annoying habit that. Ask my friends. It just goes kit-n-caboodle with my Type A inclinations.

6. I am addicted to reality shows. Shh. Don’t tell anyone. But I could spend the day watching Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, America’s Next Top Model, and especially So You Think You Can Dance. Not only do they give me a giggle or two, I can veg out to them and write without paying too much attention to the show.

Are those unimportant enough?

What is my “real” life?

Lately, I feel like I am suffering from multiple personalities. From the time I wake up — which is FAR too early for my taste — I am a teacher. This a job I feel comfortable doing. I love teaching psychology because I can translate my passion for the subject into my lectures. I’d like to think I give the kids a good “show.” Teaching US history is also a role that makes me feel confident. While I have students who are not as enthusiastically receptive as my psychology students, I can reach some of them with my goofy stories, and I hope they are infected with my love for the past.

When the last belll rings, I get everything ready for the next day, then I become someone else. I’m a homemaker. My Schnauzer needs a nice long walk. There’s always laundry to do or a dishwasher to empty. While my nest is empty, it still gets messy. I pick things up and make the place presentable.

The next personality I morph into is Secretary of Indiana RWA. There is usually an email box full of messages I need to work through. And of course, I have to go through any personal emails as well. By the time I check those and make a quick stop on my Facebook to see if there are messages, I have to shift back to homemaker. Dinner and all… Although I’ll confess that dinner is often whatever I can grab through a drive-through window. Shame on me.

When dinner is over, I become the last of my personas. I become a writer. But even here, I can’t dive right into my stories. I might have a chapter to work on from my wonderfully productive on-line critique partner. (Love you, Leanna! You’re the only writer I know who can keep up with me!) I’m also mentoring a student who is working on a series of fantasy novels. So I have to make time to devote to her. Then, if I’m really lucky and haven’t reached the point of exhaustion, I can add a few pages to one of my current works-in-progress.

So I have to ask — who am I?

Is the “romance” genre dead?

I ask this because what I’m seeing in the industry is more and more erotica and less and less romance. I don’t write erotica. Shoot, I can’t write erotica. I know plenty of talented writers who can — Emma Wildes being an excellent example. She is a friend and has established a fantastic career writing erotica in historicals and suspense. She is one of the leading authors for several e-pubs. I admire her greatly.

What I am concerned about are the romance authors who are in a holding pattern. Their submissions and proposals are met with a solid wall of “maybe.” Mine included. What are editors concerned about? Are they going after the quick money with erotica authors? I can’t fault them there. Sales are sales, and sales drive the market.

On the other hand, romance still sells. It’s just that there aren’t a lot of traditional romances out there. When a romance comes out by an author who knows what she’s doing, they sell. Case in point — Julie Garwood’s latest historical romance. Heavens, how I wish I had a readership with as much love and loyalty as Ms. Garwood. Shadow Music was her first historical romance in years. I clutched the book with loving anticipation as I walked to the cash register, thinking how much I would appreciate having another Garwood romance — a “keeper.” It didn’t work out as I’d hoped. The book was… mediocre. (Sorry, Ms. Garwood. I still adore you! ) Yet it remained on the bestseller list because there are readers out there STARVED for romance. Not erotica, ROMANCE. Good stories with a relationship based on love.

My paranormal series is romance. I build a world, and I build a relationship. But because of this, I wonder how it will be greeted by editors. The story is well accepted by contest judges with comments like “brilliant” (which made me cry) and “original.” My heroine and hero do not fall into bed at their first meeting, so I wonder about the story’s marketability. Murphy’s Law is a story where the much-in-need-of-reform hero doesn’t even like the heroine in the beginning. The sparks fly from the first moment, but they have to learn to know, respect, and love each other before they act on that attraction.

As a reader, I miss reading a good old-fashioned romance. As a writer, I hate knowing a good old-fashioned romance becomes clutter gathering dust in an editor’s office because it’s too good to throw away and too light on erotica to publish. While saying this might offend some writers, I think romance has lost its way.

I’d like my stories to put it back on track.