The Real Lessons I’ve Learned about Marriage that You won’t Find in a Romance Novel

The Real Lessons I’ve Learned about Marriage that You…

April 1, 2020
by Kat Bostick

When I was fifteen, I read my first romance novel. It was YA fiction so it was pretty clean and innocent. Still, it had such a lasting impact on me that I went on to become obsessive with romance and it’s many subgenres. I actually have to force myself to read books that aren’t romance because my brain is convinced I won’t like it unless it has a gooey, happy ending with lots of kissing.

For all that I enjoy the thrill and adventure that romance has to offer, I’ve found it can lead to bloated expectations in the real world. As a regular gal in a regular world that doesn’t have dragons and drama and whatever else drives a plot, I have the potential to become disappointed in my relationship when the romance isn’t explosive.

Now, let’s take a pause. Realistically, I know that (most) romance novels are not written about your every day life as a long-term married couple. That would be boring, right? Books are designed to take us away from our lives and let us lose ourselves in fantasy and fiction. Obviously I am not expecting someone to write a novel that mirrors the twelve minute conversation my husband and I had about dirty diapers yesterday.

With all that being said, I think it’s important to come down to earth sometimes. I read every single day. Well, night, really. It’s easy when you spend two or three hours awake at two am feeding a baby. What else am I going to do? By morning, I feel the need to recalibrate. I’ve been sucked into a new universe where falling in love has a plot with twists and turns, heartbreak and redemption. My life just doesn’t reflect that on the day to day.

I want to do something different with this post. I want to get real and talk about romance—or at least marriage—when the book is over. I’ve rescued my lover from vampire ninja assassins that want to hurt me because I’m the chosen one. Now we’re married with a kid and taxes and dirty laundry. How do we handle this mundane existence?

My little brother recently got married and I was contemplating that exact question when I wrote him a letter. A letter that I’ll share with you now (with the personal bits removed.) I call it…

The Things You Won’t Read in a Romance Novel

When I got engaged I found the most infuriating part of announcing to family and friends was receiving so much unwarranted advice.

I’ve decided that I’ll share the lessons I’ve learned about marriage with you, knowing it might be unwanted and unnecessary advice, and you can do what you will with it. After seven years, I like to think of myself as a bit of a marriage veteran. I’m not a genius but I know a thing or two about a thing or two.

People like to tell you that marriage is hard. What they don’t like to tell you is that marriage is also spending a lot of time pretending you don’t hear each other poop. It’s becoming familiar with someone else’s morning breath and the particular odor of their dirty socks and the sound they make when they’re absentmindedly chewing food. Loudly. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

People will also tell you that it’s the little moments that matter, and they’re right. Those thousands of goodnight kisses, the peals of laughter in the kitchen while you make dinner, the whispered secrets in the middle of the night, those matter a lot. They are the fine threads that slowly weave into that beautiful tapestry of a lifetime together.

That’s lesson number 1: Be Mindful of the Little Things

Because it’s not just that effervescent giddiness of spending time with someone you love. It’s also the little things you shouldn’t have said. The spats that get under you skin, the bad habits that drive you mad (I’m looking at you, husband who throws his dirty laundry next to the hamper), and the differences in opinions that stir up doubt. These tiny grains of anger and frustration collect like lint in your pocket until you put your pants on one day, stick your hand in there, and realize you’ve got a big handful of sandy resentment.

That’s lesson number 2: Resentment and Bitterness are the Death of a Marriage

Resentment is a sallow faced vampire that will suck the life out of your relationship. Do not invite it into your home. The hardest part of marriage is talking about the things that hurt each other’s feelings, telling your partner when they are being inadequate in some way, but it’s so important to maintaining peace in the home. When you need help, ask for it. When you need support, speak up. When you need space, seek it out. I’ve seen relationships end over such useless, bitter arguments that only become issues because they are allowed to fester.

Which is lesson number 3: Don’t Let Anything Fester (that’s just icky)

Your marriage is your sanctuary. Your spouse is a person you chose to build a family with. In my opinion, that’s fiercer than blood. That’s standing in a field in Oklahoma, watching a twister rip up everything you held dear, and still clutching the hand of your partner like they’re your lifeline. There will be topics that are difficult to talk about, painful and embarrassing and just downright complicated. Talk about them anyway. Talk all the time. Talk too much. Talk until two in the morning and wake up tired but with your cup overflowing the next morning. Communication is key to a healthy relationship.

And that brings me to lesson 4: Speak Kindly Always

It’s easy to forget your manners when you’re with the person who makes you feel most at home but a please, thank you, and I’m sorry go a long way. Treat your spouse like you’re still on those first few dates and you desperately want to impress them with your rapier wit.

Pretend you’re still getting to know each other and you want to be on your best behavior, at least when it comes to acknowledging the things you do for each other. Words of love and encouragement build a strong foundation and are, you guessed it, an important part of that communication piece. So really, this is more like lesson 3.5.

I don’t have a clever bridge to the next one so I’m just going to unceremoniously dump it here: Nothing is That Big of a Deal

I think this one is more a general rule for life than it is a rule for marriage. You will be doing dishes and folding laundry for the rest of your days (sorry, it’s the truth). Some days you’ll do it, some days your spouse will do it. Housework and income and emotional support won’t always be equal. It might never be equal. Some people just have different strengths than others. Don’t let that come between you. Trust me, it really doesn’t matter in the end.

What matters is how many times you made each other feel loved, how many precious memories you collected together. You could spend every day sweating over every little detail of your life until you’re eighty and it won’t change a damn thing. The world will continue to turn whether or not you waste all of your brain power fretting over that one joke your spouse made that may or may not have been offensive.

Life is long, but you should live it like it’s short. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

I know I’ve already said it but it’s such an important point and a lesson I almost learned the hard way (maybe more than once). Marriages can end over the silliest problems, mostly because we just lose sight of the why. We get tired. We get caught up in the day to day and lose track of the other person.

One day you’re going to wake up and find that your spouse has become habitual, that they’ve taken up residence in your chest as comfortably and easily as your heartbeat. That is a good thing, so don’t take it for granted. It is a precious, beautiful, rare thing to let someone become a part of you like that. When you have that, hold onto it tightly with both hands. Cling to it like a friggin’ door from the Titanic floating in the Atlantic ocean.

Oh, and one more thing. Share Your French Fries!

I’m Trying to Sell You Something – Navigating Social…

March 6, 2020
by Kat Bostick

I’ve been fighting a quiet battle with myself over social media for years. It started when I launched my first online business in my early 20’s. Social media wasn’t as big but it was quickly becoming an essential part of marketing. At first it seemed amazing. It gave me an opportunity to connect with my customer base on a more personal level.

Over time, I began feeling exhausted by it. There were so many platforms and there was so much to keep up with. Worst of all, I felt like a phony because, let’s be honest, I was trying to sell something. I’m still trying to sell something. Yep, I want you to buy my book.

Here’s where it gets complicated. Do I want you to buy my book because that’s how I make some of my living? Of course! We all need money and some of us make money by selling things. But that’s not the only reason I want you to buy my book.

I am a storyteller before I am a marketer. It’s a rather unfortunate trait when looking at my bills versus my bank account. I want you to buy my book and enjoy it much more than I want you to buy my book and pay me. I want to hear that you stayed up all night to finish the last three chapters. I want to know that my writing touched some deep part of you, that it fulfilled some unnamed longing.

I write not because I want to make money but because I want to tell stories that make people feel.

I think a lot of authors start with passion and consider making an income as a cool side effect of sharing their work. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple, especially if you’re an indie author.

You write a book (or plan to). What’s next? You create an Instagram account. Every author needs an online presence in this day and age. “Easy,” you think. “I’ll take a few pictures, type up a few words, and voila. Success and a great audience will fall in my lap. After all, I’m charming and fascinating and people will be interested just because I’m being myself and myself is cool.”

OK, maybe you didn’t start with that much confidence. I know I didn’t. The point still stands, a lot of us begin thinking that the key to success is authenticity. It’s the big buzzword right now. People want more authenticity. They aren’t seeking fake people with fake lifestyles who take fake pictures. They want the grit.

Or at least, they think they do. The struggle with social media is that people think they want authentic. What they really want is 20% authenticity and 80% glamour. They want you to write something genius on every post and take eye-catching photos with professional level quality. And they want that to be real. They want that to be you.

As if you wake up every morning and just casually snap a picture of your beautiful, blemish-free face and your perfectly styled hair while reading the first book you grabbed off your nightstand.

If you’re a creative type, which I think most people are, this gets to be exhausting. You already pour so much of your heart into your work and now your social media marketing strategy needs to be its own art?

There are a few solutions to this struggle. The first and my personal favorite is to just stop giving a hooey. You are being authentic when you are being authentic. Not when you’re pretending to be authentic, not when you’re sharing your life at its prettiest.

Let’s be real though. This won’t win you any friends. This might not win you anything except a few weird DMs from fake accounts looking for love and, if you’re lucky, a comment from your mother (hi mom!).

So that brings us to the second solution. Clearly define what is authentic to you. Is it sharing beautiful photos of what you’re working on? Is it writing some brilliant caption that details your feelings? Make note of that and when the authenticity is flowing, capture it. Share it. And when it’s not? Clearly define what feels dishonest to you. If you’re sharing something that’s strictly marketing, that’s trying to sell something, does it feel icky?

Sidenote: Does it feel icky because you’re struggling with your self-worth and you don’t think your work is worth anything? OK, glad we cleared that up. Take that feeling and throw it in the garbage.

Back to the original topic. Does it feel inauthentic because you’re being slimy? No? Then it is authentic. You are authentically trying to make a living and sometimes that means marketing. There will always be that one person that comments on all of your pictures and calls you a sellout. That’s usually the same person that gets mad because you won’t give them something for free.

Here’s the truth: Most people won’t care that you’re trying to sell something and not strictly sharing the rawest parts of your heart. Most people won’t even give it a second glance.

I think social media is so exhausting for the creative types because it makes you feel like you always have to be on. This is particularly painful as a writer when you feel the need to make every caption into eloquent sales copy that highlights your amazing skills. The unfortunate side effect of this is that social media ends up stealing so much of our creative time. I cannot tell you how many hours I have spent trying to cultivate my Instagram image when I should be writing the sequel to Hunter’s Moon.

It’s OK to step away from social media. Yes, there are algorithms that will punish you for not posting enough or not doing this or that or the other thing. They don’t matter if you lose the drive to work on the project that led you to create social media accounts in the first place.

I know I already said it but just to drill into your head, it’s also OK to market yourself. You have something really amazing to share with the world and no one is going to know what you’re sharing if you don’t put in the work to market yourself. Sell me something! And you don’t have to do it by writing a beautiful essay about a touching moment from your childhood. What are you selling? Why is it good? Why do I need? Boom. You’re done.

When you do have a beautiful essay to write about your childhood, one that really flows from your heart so easily and joyfully, share that too. Just don’t get hung up on being perfect. Otherwise, social media will eat your creativity alive.

Why I Love the “Love at First Sight” Romance…

January 24, 2020January 24, 2020
by Kat Bostick

Once upon a time I was a 12-year-old girl and I was going through some stuff. My parents were getting a divorce, my mom moved us across the country, far away from home, and all of my friends were moving on with their lives without me. I felt more alone than I ever had and ever will. It was tough.

But you didn’t come here for a sob story. You’re here for the love story.

Well, as it turned out, some rather unfortunate circumstances led to a fateful meeting. Not long after we moved, my mom put us all on a plane to visit my grandparents back home. During that visit I spent a day with my best friend, where she confided and that she had a crush on a boy from our homeschool group.

(Yes, we were homeschool weirdos.)

My best friend was never a particularly shy person but she hated doing things alone, so she dragged me along to her “date” with this boy. I didn’t know what to expect. She told me he was a dork, kind of weird, and that she was already having second thoughts about her feelings.

We waited for him in a mall food court. I still like the mingled smell of Chick-Fil-A and department store perfume because it reminds of me this day.

When a gangly 13-year-old boy with bright red hair approached us, sporting a pair of sunglasses inside, I felt my heart stop for a whole two beats. My friend had to introduce me because my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and I could only stare helplessly. I remember vividly the first thought I had when my brain came back online.

“This is the coolest boy I’ve ever met and I’m going to marry him someday.”

Over the years, people have tried to talk me out of my belief in love at first sight.

“It was just attraction.” They would say. “It was infatuation that grew into love.”

I get it. It’s hard to believe in love that begins with a look, with a smile, with a few simple words. It’s hard to believe in soul mates and intertwined destinies. But I do.

I knew that I was looking at the love of my life. I knew that he would be the only one to make me come alive.

I returned to Minnesota just two days after we met. I lived almost 1,500 miles away but the distance didn’t stop us. We stayed connected on AIM, chatting until the early morning hours. We had video calls and whispered into corded phones stretched taut from the kitchen into my bedroom. I remember sneaking upstairs to steal the extra cordless phone after killing the battery on the first one with a six hour conversation.

I also remember being asked to pay the bill for long distance calling. (Oops, sorry mom!)

Days bled into years and that silly boy grew into a tall, handsome young man. We stopped talking every day as our lives got busier but we never lost touch. Once he called me in the middle of the afternoon to read an excerpt from The Iliad. That was all he said before hanging up. I once called him late on a Saturday night, feeling heartbroken and defeated. He didn’t say anything then, only sat on the phone with me until we both fell asleep.

I was sixteen when I finally confessed to him that I was madly and hopelessly in love with him. So began our long distance love affair. I didn’t care that we were apart. Someday we would be together. I would make sure of it. I had two short years before I was off to college and I planned to apply to every single one in Texas if it meant being near him.

My determination must have impressed some higher power because not six months later, my mom moved us back to my childhood home.

We kissed on our second date and a hundred thousand times after that. Somedays it was all we did. By our third year together, we were engaged. We’ve now been married for almost seven years and we have beautiful baby boy.

On this day eleven years ago, my husband sent me a text message in the middle of the night (as was his style), asking if I would be his girlfriend. Obviously I said yes.

Now, I realize our story isn’t the same as an insta-love story. We didn’t meet, kiss, and elope within fifteen minutes. Let me tell you though, I would have. Had I met my husband when I was a grown woman, I would have proposed to him on the spot.

That probably wouldn’t have made for a very exciting story, would it?

The trick to insta-love, love at first sight, soul mates who are undeniably built for each other, isn’t giving them an immediate happily ever after. You can know you love someone and not commit yourself to them in an instant.

There is a difference between loving someone and falling in love with someone. When I met my husband, I knew I loved him deep down in my bones, but it was the years that followed where I fell in love with him. I learned all of his quirks, laughed at his jokes, and found reasons to be dedicated to each of his causes. That wouldn’t have happened overnight. You can love someone at first sight without feeling committed to them.

Some love is fleeting. My little sister experiences love at first sight at least once a week, she just never takes the time to fall in love with anyone.

To make love at first sight work in a story, you need to provide the “why” behind a character’s feelings. Otherwise, love at first sight does usually end up feeling like vapid infatuation. Why should we care? Why should they (your characters) care?

You might disagree with my definition of the word love. That’s fine. Love has a different meaning to each of us, which might be why romance is such a complicated genre with so many subgenres. Each and every person feels love in a way unique to them.

If you want me hooked on your story, define what that unique way is between your characters. Show me the three AM phone calls where they muffled giggles in their pillow so their mom wouldn’t hear. Show me the cheesy lines and bad jokes. Show me the heartbreak that brings them together.

That’s how you make a “love at first sight” trope work.

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