Guest post written by I Did Something Bad author Pyae Moe Thet War
Pyae Moe Thet War is the author of the essay collection You’ve Changed. Born and raised in Yangon, Myanmar, she holds a BA from Bard College at Simon’s Rock, and MA’s from University College London and the University of East Anglia. She currently shares a home (and her food) with her dogs, Gus and Missy. I Did Something Bad is her debut novel.
About I Did Something Bad: In this smart and swoony adventure rom-com, a journalist and a movie star find themselves teaming up to cover up a murder…and falling for each other in the process.
I was a romance reader long before I was a romance writer (and arguably long before I was actually at an appropriate age to be reading romance novels, but we’ll ignore that). So it follows that like most (all?) romance readers, I’ve steadfastly been a capital R Romantic. Teenage me wanted a relationship that would make me feel like I was the heroine in one of the many romance novels on my bookshelves; there is very little overlap between what I wanted as a teen and what I want now, but this, this has always remained steady.
A lot of people laugh at us romantics, deeming us “hopeless,” especially once you reveal that your ideas of love are generally based on what you’ve read in fiction. But being a romantic requires an unbelievable amount of courage and resilience. It is easier to get your heart broken and never try again, perhaps even easier to never try in the first place because it seems nothing short of foolish to willingly sign up for that degree of hurt. It is easy to settle for love that is good enough. Perhaps now more than ever given the state of the modern dating scene, it might seem silly to nonetheless revere love and romance and wait until the stuff of fiction comes into your life — but for romantics like myself, it seems even sillier to settle for anything less.
After all, my favorite authors and I don’t let our fictional heroines settle for anything less than someone who makes them feel happy and known down to their bones, so why should I do so in real life?
When I come up with a new book idea, I always start with the female main character. I figure out what her hobbies are, how she likes to dress, what kind of music she listens to, if she likes to cook, if she color-coordinates things — and only once she’s this full, dynamic person do I begin to write up a man who will be worthy of her. Throughout all my writing, that’s the question that I always hold: are these people equals? What about this man makes him someone who deserves her? What will he add to her life that she can’t already achieve on her own?
The heart of a good romance novel (‘good’ being the key word here, as subjective as the definition is) isn’t the over-the-top romantic gestures, or the gushing dramatic soliloquies. Instead, a good romance novel is one in which two people who are equals push, support, and, crucially, understand one another. They give each other their all and apologize when they fall short. Romance novels taught me that love is warm and tender, stretching without ever breaking.
When I was single, I had several qualities that I wanted in a partner. I want someone who loves animals, I would say. I want someone who reads. I want someone who makes me laugh, like, really laugh. My sister once joked “Look, you can either get a funny guy or one who reads. You can’t have both.” But I knew I didn’t want to be partnered for the sake of being partnered, because that’s not what my favorite fictional heroines did. Instead, I desired someone who made me as giddy as I was when I read my favorite romance novels. Decades of reading about women who experienced a transcendent, joyous love confirmed to me that that was what I wanted for myself, too.
And to be honest, none of this ever seemed unrealistic to me. After all, doesn’t all fictional love have roots in real life love? There’s a scene in my book where the heroine writes a love letter, and I was stuck on it for a long time until I decided to write the letter about my own relationship and all the little things my boyfriend has done that made me fall in love with him. “I suspect if you fall asleep on his shoulder in a taxi, he carefully holds your head steady so that you’re not jostled awake by a speed bump,” I wrote. When I read it back, that small detail made me realize that I was with someone who could be a “book boyfriend” from one of the many romance novels on my shelves. Again, the big gestures are exciting, but you don’t fall in love with someone over the grand gestures; in books, just like in real life, it’s the little things that form the foundation of a relationship, such as gently making sure that your partner doesn’t get woken up during a car ride.
I’m aware that real life isn’t a novel, and that real life relationships are never as rosy and with far fewer instances of riding off into the sunset. But I also know that while compromise is essential in almost all areas of life, it’s not applicable when it comes to love. Books have taught me a lot, but romance novels specifically have taught me to be picky, be specific, be adamant about never settling for less than big love. So have the high expectations, wait for someone who will sweep you off your feet in ways big and small, who will see and show up for you every day and leave little reminders that make you think “this feels like something out of a romance novel.”
