Take a Chance--and WIN Death by Chocolate!

Ahhh, Valentine's Day, the one day a year we think about love. Or about not having it. Or about how we hate Valentine's Day.

I understand, I really do. Love is hard. It's work, and it often doesn't work out. I've been really lucky, though. Twenty-two years ago (sheesh, but I'm old), the hubby and I had just started dating (Jan. 19th was our first day, if you remember, the Eve of St. Agnes). Nearly a month later, we were going to a party together at a friend's house, and I spent a panicked week trying to figure out what to give him.

Flowers? I didn't know at that point that he liked flowers. Chocolates? What kind of chocolates did he prefer? I didn't know him well enough to know that, either. A stuffed animal? Surely not. (I was totally right about this one--stuffed animals are totally not his thing).

Image: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

So I gave him the only gift I could think of: a poem. Yup, I less than a month after we'd started dating, I wrote him a love sonnet. And not just any old sonnet. A sonnet that said I wanted to grow old with him, spend the rest of my life with him. You know the kind--the stalking sonnet that would scare any sane guy away in a heartbeat (or a quick read-thru, anyway).

I wrote it on parchment, using my calligraphy pens, rolled it up and tied it with a red ribbon. And, yes, I gave it to him.

"Woah!" you might exclaim, "and he married you?" Yup. He thought the poem was fantastic, and he showed it to everybody at the party. And some people were actually jealous. Nobody ran away. Pretty weird, huh? And AWESOME, too!

Now, before you say, with that sarcasm in your voice, "Oh, sure, we're just supposed to take that chance--but what if we get hurt?" don't think for a moment that I don't know the risk I took. In fact, before there was the hubby, I wrote several sonnets--more tentative ones, mind you--to another guy at college. Yup, that's right. This was already my MO.

That interaction didn't go so well. In December, the guy wrote me a nice card saying he was flattered by the poems, and he wished me the best, but please don't write again. I was crushed, but I respected his request and didn't write another poem for him. I took the chance, and I failed at it.

But so what? Love doesn't always work out. But I still have those sonnets--all of them--the ones I wrote the first guy, the MANY sonnets I wrote to the hubby. And, even better, I have the hubby. And it all started with that little Valentine's Day love sonnet, which he still keeps framed right next to his bed after 22 years.

So, in honor of Valentine's Day, I'm giving away a copy of the anthology Death by Chocolate, which contains 6 stories of love and chocolate, along with a box of chocolates for your enjoyment. You need to live in the U.S., since I don't want to pay through the nose to send this little package out (sorry!).

To enter, all you have to do is chime in below, telling me your own thoughts on love and taking chances. I'll draw a name out of a hat and announce the winner by FRIDAY (so comment before then!). Also, today I'm posting in THREE other places as part of the Death by Chocolate blog tour, and each post is different, so check 'em all out:

Patricia's Particularity

Authors by Authors

Ink Spot and Roses

All three give you another opportunity to win the book (and some chocolates), so feel free to comment everywhere, including at my post on today's Death by Chocolate blog. Remember to comment for your chance to win! And happy Valentine's Day!

Only You

Tell me you are nervous

Tell me you just can't write the way

I want you to

Tell me English

Doesn't fit the way you are

You're too uptight to write

Too scared that what you put on paper

Won't be what I want

Tell me your life has made you

Into a gelatinous mass

Unable to make it through

A tough, tough world

I know better

It isn't the world that holds you back

It isn't my lofty expectations

It isn't that the demands of life are simply too much to bear

The world is not against you

The world wants nothing more than your success

Your enemy is you

But, by all means,

Go on telling yourself you can't do it

Despite all that I might say or do

Call yourself a failure

Say that you can't do it

Over and over and over

Until you believe it

And in the end

You'll be right

And I'll be wrong

But the world

And I

Will be oh so disappointed

For you will have given up

On yourself.

The Importance of Failure

This kind of comes in response to Rocket Scientist's blog about vulnerabilities in characters. She discusses how characters without flaws are not as compelling--or as interesting--as characters who show weakness of some kind. 

It's also important for characters to lose. I'll use my husband as an example. He becomes a fan of various teams at different times, but, except for his third-generation love of the USC Trojans, he's pretty fair-minded. If a team wins too much, he gets to the point where he wants someone else to win. I can't tell you how many times he's switched sides, rooting for unknowns up against the established power. For example, he loved Tiger Woods when he first came on the scene, but now he tends to watch golf more intently when someone else is really doing well and is likely to beat Tiger Woods. (And, yes, my husband watches golf, and I appreciate your sympathy.)

But my husband is not alone in his desire to see people defeated sometimes. A work of fiction (whether book or film) becomes far less interesting if everyone we like wins every time. That is part of the appeal of the film Star Trek II. Spock died. It was horrible, it was beautiful, it was poignant, it was brilliant. But the impact was lessened when the third movie came out and he came back to life (it also wasn't a great movie). 

Sometimes people we love die. Sometimes great characters don't win, or at least don't win the first time around (or the second, or the third), but this failure makes the final victory all the more meaningful because it was hard-won. 

So, as Rocket Scientist suggests, make your characters vulnerable. And as I suggest, make them fail sometimes. Your readers will love them all the more for such weaknesses.