Thanks to everyone who participated in my “favorite place to be kissed” poll the last two days. Want to know what that was all about? You’ll have to stop by The Debutante Ball and read this week’s post.
Now that we got that out of the way, I have some exciting news – I get to go to the dentist this morning.
This fills my heart with joy like composite resin in a decaying tooth. I’ve been going to the same dentist for about nine years, and I’m not ashamed to admit I have a small crush on him.
OK, maybe I’m a little ashamed to admit it. It’ll be just my luck he’ll visit my blog today and will promptly transfer my records to one of the other dentists.
Honestly, it’s a harmless thing. He’s happily married, I’m happily married, and our contact is limited to him shoving his gloved hands in my mouth once every six months. Hardly the basis for a romantic tryst.
I will confess right now that the second romance novel I ever wrote had a hero who bore a striking resemblance to my dentist. The story is one of my abysmal early attempts, so there’s little risk it will ever find its way to the bookstore shelves where my dentist – who, naturally, would be browsing the romance aisle – would stumble upon it and bellow, “wait a minute, that’s me!”
That’s true for pretty much any character I write. People often ask me if I base characters on real people. The short answer is, “of course!”
The long answer is that my characters – especially the male love interests – are almost always an amalgam of many different people. I’ll borrow eyes from a guy I pass on the street, arms from some sexy stud I spot on the internet, a smile from my high school boyfriend. I’ve told my husband before that he’s the inspiration for every hero I’ll ever write, and while that’s true, I mean it more in a big picture “you’re the reason I believe in true love” sort of way.
But I’d be lying if I pretended little parts (and not-so-little parts) of other men don’t help form those characters.
Especially my dentist.
When I had a cavity filled several years ago, he dosed me liberally with laughing gas (knowing my crippling needle phobia and the likelihood I’d punch anyone who came near me with the Novocain.)
The whole thing is a blur to me, except the faint memory that I was very, very happy for the duration of the procedure.
I walked home afterward, and was still a little loopy when I strolled through the front door with a big, drooly smile on my face.
“You’re baked out of your gourd, aren’t you?” Pythagoras asked.
I grinned. “Uh-huh. Nitrous Oxide. Good stuff.”
“Please tell me you didn’t hit on the dentist.”
Truly, I have no idea. That’s probably best.
Have you ever developed a harmless crush on your doctor, dentist, or the clerk at the adult video store? Do any traces of these people appear in your novels? Please share.
I have to go primp for the dentist.