Page 34 of Guys Can't Write Romance
“At least my character doesn’t leave a trail of slime everywhere he goes,” said Daisy.
“And on that note,” Mags turned to Chad’s pages, “let’s discuss your unique take on romantic comedy.”
The room collectively grimaced.
“What?” said Chad. “They kiss.”
“She kisses a swamp monster,” Ruth said.
“Slime monster,” Chad corrected. “Totally different species. Swamp monsters are more... swampy.”
“He’s got a point,” Phil said. “The viscosity is completely different.”
“Not helping, Phil,” Mags sighed.
“Darling,” Mags rubbed her temples, “you can’t just take your horror novel and add a kiss scene.”
“Why not? It’s romantic. Sort of. In a slimy way.”
“The girl runs screaming immediately after,” Phil pointed out.
“Because she’s overwhelmed by passion!”
“Because he’s dissolving her face,” Daisy said.
“It’s a love dissolution!”
“That’s not a thing,” Bernie chuckled.
Helen leaned forward. “Does your female character really need to be running around in a bikini in every scene? Maybe you could vary it up a bit.”
“Add a cheerleader tryout scene?” Chad said.
“Or maybe not,” Helen added. “Forget I said anything.”
“Chad,” Mags cut in, “you need to start over. From page one. This isn’t a horror novel with romantic elements. It’s supposedto be a romantic comedy. That means no slime monsters, no swamp monsters, no monsters of any kind.”
“What about a very misunderstood zombie?” Chad tried.
“No.”
Chad slumped in his chair, leaving a slight pink tint on the fabric.
“Ready to concede defeat, Pinky?” Daisy said.
“Not a chance.”
“And you,” Mags said, turning back to Daisy, “need to give Rick a personality. Some joy. Some spark. Something that makes us believe he’s actually alive and not just a collection of sensible life choices in khaki pants.”
“He doesn’t wear khaki pants,” Daisy mumbled. “He wears slacks.”
“The contest deadline is getting closer,” Bernie reminded them. “You both need to step up your game.”
“Or step out of your comfort zones,” Helen added kindly.
“Way, way out,” Chad said, plucking at his pink shirt.
“Speaking of stepping out,” Liv leaned forward, “Chad, honey, where did you get those jeans? That shade is absolutely darling on you.”
