I spent the holiday weekend at my mom’s house. She gave my daughter an Easter-themed Mad Libs book, so we spent a good chunk of Sunday naming various adjectives and adverbs. Heroically, I attempted to keep it clean for the family audience. (So I suggested “butts” for one answer. Sue me.)
But that gave me an idea. What if I didn’t have to keep my answers clean? What if, in fact, I were encouraged to go dirty?
And thus, out of stifled salaciousness and a fervent desire to procrastinate, an idea was born. (I find that particular combination generates many of my ideas, TBH.)
Below, you’ll find a romance-themed Mad Libs! First, you should fill out the answer sheet, where you can list all your nouns and verbs and naughty adjectives. After that, add your answers to the story itself and find out what [noun] is throbbing so [adverb]!
I hope you enjoy it. I thought it might brighten someone’s Tuesday. ♥
Romance Mad Libs answer sheet
Romance Mad Libs
Trigger warning: This blog post includes discussion of disordered eating and depression.
If they chose to look, the workers fixing my broken deck could see me through the family room windows. And that was a problem, since they weren’t likely to understand what they’d witness.
I wasn’t entirely certain I understood, either. Not anymore.
But I joked with them, trying to explain away what might seem like aberrant, borderline-disturbed behavior. “I’m just trying to get in my steps, and I can’t go to the gym today!” I said. “So don’t be alarmed when you see me circling my coffee table.”
They nodded and offered a confused smile, then got to work.
When you’re fat and discussing an attempt to exercise, people don’t tend to question the whys or hows. They simply approve. This was true of the workers (who left my deck in excellent condition), my doctor, and pretty much everyone else who’d noticed my rapid weight loss. Dropping one hundred pounds in about ten months had earned me praise from all quarters, declarations of how good I now looked, and questions as to how I’d done it.
The same had been true seven years before, when I’d lost 110 pounds. The admiration and questions had ceased when I regained all that weight, plus fifty pounds extra.
So everyone approved of my most recent weight loss attempt except my husband, whose gentle hints had become plainer over the last month or two. “You’re exercising for longer chunks of time than I did when I trained for the Iron Man,” he told me. “Be careful.” Continue reading
The fifth book in my Lovestruck Librarians series, Driven to Distraction, features a hot ginger beardo hero. But my husband is clean-shaven, and I’ve never dated a follicularly-blessed man. So I did what every conscientious writer does when faced with unknown territory: I researched. Thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly.
P.S. You’re welcome.
And finally, I chatted a bit about my writing—how much I steal from real life, my totally nonexistent plans for world domination, etc.—with Cynthia Woolf.
Nope. No world domination plans here.
I also wrote a post for Romance Divas about my sincere and abiding love for awkward sex scenes!
Somewhere around the time I started plotting Ready to Fall, the fourth book of my Lovestruck Librarians series, I realized something important about my writing: I really enjoy describing sex scenes gone wonky.
For Manic Readers, I wrote a blog post about women with big personalities—including myself and the heroine of Ready to Fall, Sarah Mayhew.
Some people naturally have quiet, placid personalities. I am not one of them. Instead, I laugh loudly enough to be heard several city blocks away. I enjoy swearing. I adore dirty jokes. I cry often, at the first sound of a sad violin in a TV commercial or the sight of someone else’s grief. Worst of all, I’m a perfectionist. I’m hard on myself and sometimes hard on the people around me too.
In my past, I spent a lot of years with my head down, trying to avoid trouble and attention. Trying not to make waves, speak too loudly, or bother anyone with my desires. Trying to make myself smaller, in personality if not in body, so as not to inconvenience others. Continue reading
For Fresh Fiction, I wrote a post about the, um, ambivalence toward bikes shared by me and my heroine, Sarah.
“I need to learn to ride a bike.” Sarah didn’t try to hide her grimace. “By the middle of next week. Even though riding one of those things is basically daring God to smite me.”
That’s the opening of Ready to Fall, my fourth Lovestruck Librarians book. Now, I will freely admit that my heroine, Sarah Mayhew, has a flair for hyperbole. She’s earned her nickname DQ (for Drama Queen) among her friends honestly. But in this instance…well…
I can’t help but agree with her.