Writing Romance Is My Spring Cleaning
There’s something special about writing romance—something tender and hopeful, like the first warm breeze in April. For me, writing is a process of shedding, of opening windows, of letting light into the darker corners of the self. It’s a time of Spring Cleaning for my soul. You see, I don’t write love stories just for the happily-ever-after. I write them because they remind me that love is a choice—sometimes easy, often messy, always worth it. Writing romance is how I clean out my emotional cobwebs. It’s how I forgive. How I hope. How I remember that people are soft beneath the armor.
Each first, messy draft is a little bit like spring cleaning. (Including the one I’m working on right now!) I sweep out old griefs tucked in dialogue. I dust off parts of myself I’d rather forget but need to revisit for the sake of putting truths on the page. I rearrange character arcs like furniture until the space feels like home. Sometimes, writing about people falling in love is painful. Not because love hurts—but because it heals. And like scraped knees, healing often stings before it soothes.
Many days I stare at the screen and wonder if I’m getting it all wrong. If maybe no one needs another love story. If maybe I should write something grittier or more clever. Or if maybe I should just hand it all over to an LLM and let the machine write my words. But then I remember what a love story did for me—how it softened my heart after a hard season during my father’s illness and death, how it whispered, “You are still lovable. Still worthy. Still someone who can be chosen.”
So I keep going. Word by word. Scene by scene. Character by character. Draft by draft. Writing romance is my offering to the world—and to myself. It’s where I tuck all the sweetness I wish we’d say out loud more often. It’s where I remind myself that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. But if I want to share my stories with others, I need to write them down. Writing is a creative act that requires clear thought and demands a soft heart, two things that can get stuck in the winter doldrums.
Some people scrub their baseboards when the weather turns warm, others wash windows, clean out closets, and rake up the winter leaves. All things I plan on doing later this week as I write kissing scenes and redemption arcs, hoping to find my way back to tenderness.
If you’re a romance writer (or a reader) in need of a little spring cleaning of your own, here are four gentle ways to reset:
🌷 Declutter Your Digital and Physical Writing Space (and your self-doubts)
Clear off your desk. Wipe down your laptop. Light a candle. Make your favorite cup of tea or coffee. Then sit with a pillow behind your back and begin deleting the digital files that make you cringe, but keep the ones that still sparkle. Clearing physical and digital spaces invites mental clarity. The old drafts didn’t fail—you grew past them. That’s worth honoring.
🌷 Reread a Love Scene You Wrote and Loved
Not to edit. Just to remember. Let yourself fall in love with your own words (and characters) again. See the heartbeat in what you created. Remind yourself why you started writing romance in the first place—not for perfection, but for connection. And if rereading is too hard, maybe listen to it on audio (if that’s an option) while you work in the garden. Sometimes doing something else while you listen allows you to notice things you’d never noticed before.
🌷 Let One Character Surprise You
Pick one of your least known characters and give them a secret. A scar. A soft spot. Something you haven’t written yet. Let it crack their story open in a new way. Spring isn’t just about cleaning—it’s about growing. Let your characters, especially those who aren’t your favorites, grow with you.
🌷 Romanticize Your Writing Ritual
Play music that feels like a slow dance. Pour coffee in your prettiest mug. Sit outside in the sunlight and write a scene. Go to a park or a coffee shop and make it a date with your muse. Writing romance is already magic—you’re just giving it flowers. And maybe, if you’re so inclined, add a chocolate croissant.
There’s no right way to tell a love story. There’s only your way. And if you’re feeling stuck or stale or unsure, maybe it’s time to open the windows, let the light in, and dispel winter’s shadows. Because the heart has seasons, too.
