As many of you know, I work for a greeting card company in order to buy my groceries. There are some perks to this job—food being the big one. And sometimes people ask me for advice on which card would be best for their specific need. Some of my best story lines have evolved from these conversations.
Normally, I don’t mind the work, except at this time of the year. Valentine’s Day is known in the industry as a “Last Minute Holiday.” So, it’s not until the very last few days that the cards begin to sell. And then, after carefully straightening and spacing out the Valentine’s for the week prior to the Big Day, we have to show up at our stores the day after (or in this case, weekend) to destroy any leftover cards.
My monthly critique group meets one Saturday a month—yesterday. On the very day my romance writers group meets, I had to skip it because I was busy ripping up or pouring dye on hundreds of beautiful Valentines. As I worked, I thought of all the romance these cards were to incite, and possible plots for my upcoming novels. Pretty pink roses, pink and red ribbons, commemorative bookmarks, heart-shaped stickers, and red and black masculine cards all bit the dust at my hands. The irony of the situation was not lost on me.