**SPOILER ALERT** (even though we’re two years past release)

As I watched this movie, I kept wondering when the prince would arrive. Where was the handsome guy – the love interest? As each of the sons of the leaders was introduced to Merida, I kept thinking the prince would be next, and when he wasn’t, I kept looking for him to emerge from the crowd, or show up later on…because that’s how it works, right?

Then when Merida pulled out that bow and said that she was going to compete to marry herself, I sat up. A movie with a princess and no prince? What was this? How did I feel about it? Without a romance, would it hold my attention? I got my answer as soon as the queen turned into a bear but retained her own personality. A permasmile etched itself across my face from that point on until the end of the movie.

I LOVED this concept (says the romance novelist). I know, I’m the last person who needs to be loving a romance-free princess adventure, but for a movie aimed at the ten and under crowd, what a unusual treat – a girl who hones her skills at archery and decides she wants to control her own destiny rather than settle for a guy she doesn’t love. No starry eyes. No crush to distract her. Just a girl going for what she wants.

You hear a lot about the changing times, and apparently things were so much better during “simpler times.” (When have times ever been simple, by the way?) But I got to say, one thing certain writers are doing splendidly these days is offering heroines for our young girls to look up to. Just like Katniss in The Hunger Games (the books, not the movies – you get the picture so much clearer in the books). Yeah, there’s a romance there, but it takes a way, way backseat to her survival and protection of her family. As I read that first book in the series, I wished I had a daughter to hand it to so she could read about a girl who figures out how to hunt and barter and survive in the woods. And that’s before she enters the games.

But this day of the year promises us eight months of light. Now, as we leave work in the late afternoon, we don’t need flashlights to get to our cars. People can walk, run, bike, skate or do whatever it is people do outside after work or even after an early dinner. And with each day from now until the summer solstice, it just keeps getting lighter later, lengthening our days.

The dark, dreary period of time from January until now is always a hibernation period for many of us. But now that we have light, we can emerge from our homes, spread our arms and let the sun beat down upon us with its vitamin D.

I write this week’s blog from the Pin Oak Lodge situated in the scenic Natchez Trace State Park. I’m here along with 41 other Music City romance writers on a retreat to rejuvenate our writing souls.

So far, I’ve been chatting nonstop with my roomie and one of my favorite people in the world, fellow writer Victoria Austin (whose mother once thought I was the Craig’s List Killer), getting to know my MCRW chapter mates through a hilarious guess-who-answered-this-question game, and taking a fabulous three hour Voice Immersion workshop from the incredibly talented and inspiring Barbara Samuel.

At last night’s dinner, just when I thought my dog-free hotel bed coupled with the Bella Andre book I’m reading sounded heavenly a panel of our chapter’s published authors assembled. As I listened to each of them answer all of our questions, it struck me that it was ridiculous how much joy I was getting out of the moment – talking shop, learning new and different ways of thinking, and even realizing questions I needed to be asking that I hadn’t even considered. The same thought struck me as we entered hour three of today’s workshop which included writing exercises intended for us to dig deep. It was tough but rewarding to stretch myself on some of the more uncomfortable ones, and really cool to learn some things about myself and my writing.

All through my late twenties and early thirties, my husband, being an incredibly talented musician, always pushed me to search for what I wanted to do with my life outside of our relationship and family – he always wanted me to have something for myself, as he had his music. I’m not sure how it happened, or when exactly it happened, but writing has become that passion for me. Not only do I love doing it, but I love talking about it, and I love hearing other writers talk about their writing. We’re all so different, and I rarely walk away from a conversation having not learned something.

I think I speak for at least some other authors when I say that we get majorly attached to our characters. We have created these people to our spec. We’ve given them hardships to overcome, and we’ve knocked them down repeatedly throughout the process. We’ve dragged them through the mud and slapped them around until they hit rock bottom, only to pick them up off their feet, and help them toward sweet redemption at the end of the story.

Through this process, we writers laugh and cry with our characters. We are on their emotional journeys with them and yes, there are times when we internalize their pain. It’s a daunting process, but it truly is a labor of love.

I always talk big about how I’m going to take two weeks off and veg out to mindless television shows in the evenings, but the fact is, I’m not comfortable unless I’m writing. So the question is where do I go from here?

Fortunately, the novel I just finished is book one in the series, and I have at least two more to go. So even though the next books in the series will focus on different couples – secondary characters that I’ll be developing into heroes and heroines – the couple from my first book will be around. But I’ve been down this road before. It won’t be the same. I’m still sad to put them to bed (no pun intended), but what keeps me going is that I have this set of characters, who I already know a little about from book one, that I get to expound upon and fill with new strengths and insecurities. And I get to introduce new characters into the mix and develop them as I wish.

The absolute worst is when you finish the final book in a series and you really have to say goodbye. Hopefully by this time the author is a little sick of their crew of characters, but unfortunately, I have not found that to be the case.

I don’t get massages, although they sound fabulous. In my entire lifetime, I can count on both hands the number of combined manicures, pedicures, and spa treatments I’ve ever had. And my lunch typically comes out of a cardboard box.

All that said, Friday night, I lived the life of luxury.

My beautiful friend turned 29 *ahem* and her husband pulled out the stops. A crew of us was picked up in a limo similar to those seen at Moonlight Limo. A bottle of champagne was popped, and we were transported to a fancy schmancy restaurant where we were friends of the owner, whom my friend’s husband knew from college.

We were taken care of by the assistant director of wine, whom had pre-selected six bottles of French wine for us – my glass was never empty the whole night. The chef greeted our table personally, wished my lovely friend a happy birthday, and made suggestions for us. We dined on a drop biscuit with apple butter for a starter that I devoured as if I hadn’t eaten in a week. I had the most delicious rainbow trout in the history of delicious fish (I’m a huge fish fan – the fishier the better as far as I’m concerned).

For dessert the table was served each of the available options which included a chocolate bombe, cheesecake with fresh whipped cream and dried fruit compote, and apple cider donuts that blew my mind. Then, just when the button on my “skinny jeans” (har, har) was about to pop off, they finished us off with individual dark chocolate brownies that were to die for. Yes, literally. I would die for these brownies. It would have all been worth it.

We piled back into the limo and were delivered back to our friend’s home where our children were all safely playing (I’ll mention here that the babysitter said she was leaving there and going directly to get her tubes tied), and visited even more with our friends and neighbors. When it was time to go – and trust me, no one wanted to – we thanked our hosts with hugs, and then my husband, the kiddo and I padded home the six minute walk from their house to ours. Sufficiently sated, we all crashed.

It was a night straight out of a fairy tale, full of hospitality and indulgence, spent with fabulous friends.

For this gal who lives a fairly economical existence, it was something special.