Emily Dickinson (yes, her again… blame Harvard) delighted in the power, the mystery, the beauty of a solitary word. She would often go as far to isolate these single creatures within a set of her infamous dashes. In essence, cutting off the word entirely from the rest of the line, she forced the reader to go one-on-one with the lone accomplice.
Can today’s romance writer afford such luxuries of a single word? That is the question… and I’m saddened by its answer.
In a publishing world that too often emphasizes speed and bulk over quality, the romance novel is left out of this love affair with the single word.
How ironic is that?