Robin Hawke

The Bride
February 11, 2012, 3:54 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges, Love and Romance

The day of my wedding, mist settled and mud collected on my hem. My father held an umbrella for me. Taking his arm, I sensed the beginnings of a headache. Squeezing my eyes, I managed a smile and a kiss. I set one foot down after another. Dull pain increased with each step. Dismissing it, I let fear fold into the sheath that protected my nerves and waited for a cue.

Pain increased, localized. I rubbed my skull with a hand under the veil, trying not to disturb a hair concoction. Double doors opened. My dubious doll smile went ahead down the aisle. Music swirled. I gathered myself in that stately walk to the man I loved. If tiny velvet nubs sprouted from my head, no one noticed.

Then came that perfunctory pause. Our minister waited for reasons we should not join. I looked over the congregation. By now, everyone noticed the twin antlers growing. I thought I should speak. My mouth pursed, but words stilled.

We exchanged vows.

Each point of my horns dulled with each word of acceptance. A final pronouncement heard, music trumpeted. My new husband grabbed an elbow while I disguised hooves in the bouquet.

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Certain Words
February 4, 2012, 4:03 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges, Love and Romance

My first boyfriend was a sweet talker. His native tongue was Germanic but he learned to caress me in English. He planted the seeds of love with tenderness and dry fingers. I studied deep set eyes and couldn’t imagine a finer dialect.

Yes, I said yes to him. I snuck into movies. I played hooky. I smoked cigarettes. Yes I said to his sweet questions and first kisses. I broke parental rules. Yes I said at a party and almost died of alcohol poisoning.

We never broke up. Once, I slapped him in the face, imagining myself on celluloid. And he sulked. And we argued more than a few times. But my family moved. Our last meeting became my first date with costly food.  One raspberry decorated our dessert. I remember the tandem sink of spoons into chocolate mousse while our words fell away into the twinkling lights of the city below.

Our tree he tattooed came down to prepare the ground for tarmac. The fertile glances over geometry books and hot pepper dares leached out of memory. The words he planted in me. That I loved. Yes. They remain sweet forgotten seeds of the lover I became.

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January 7, 2012, 7:16 PM
Filed under: Emotions, Life and Stuff, Love and Romance, Three Sentence Stories | Tags: ,

Recently, I wondered why I was devoting so much of my time to love. I’m skirting the trite, the seamy and the hokey catchphrases of sentimentality and overblown lace hearts.

Then, I had this question—what other emotion will transform me, my writing and our world in ways I can be proud?

December 13, 2011, 12:10 AM
Filed under: Love and Romance, Quotations

“You are teasing now; aren’t you?”

“A little maybe; I’ve been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn’t listen. Every time you said ‘Farm boy do this’ you thought I was answering ‘As you wish’ but that’s only because you were hearing wrong. ‘I love you’ was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard.”

― William Goldman, The Princess Bride


I’ve had a busy week!


My third book, Recommending Honey, ($0.99) is now live,  in Amazon’s ebook store. I wrote this one, a clean romance, in honor of my nieces. It’s about a realtor who is always intruding, opining and matchmaking. If you enjoy it, please consider writing a review.

***end of promotion, back to blogging***

Where Does Love Reside?
September 20, 2011, 6:31 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags:

Americans tend to believe it resides in a (single-chambered) heart. Thump. Thumpety Thump.

Elizabethans believed love sprang from livers. Perhaps they were all soused.

A few religions assign the seat of love to one’s will. Greek poets thought passions originated in the bowels. College students blame alcohol. Or imagination.

Then there’s the amygdala, the choreographer of feeling, the brainy part of the group.

Somehow, the genitals eyes communicate with all these innards.

Another Friday Afternoon
September 9, 2011, 6:37 PM
Filed under: Emotions, Life and Stuff, Love and Romance | Tags: ,

I’m cleaning–it’s almost the weekend and I’m avoiding a rewrite of the final chapter of my latest book. Cleaning lasted fifteen minutes. You see, I noticed I had shelved the following two books side by side:

A General Theory of Love

The Concise Book of Lying

Six Words
August 28, 2011, 5:44 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance, Six Word Stories | Tags: , , ,

DIY Romance is up and running. I find myself tinkering with it, so it is still under construction and may continue to change its appearance. Its purpose is to build a community of people interested in toying with words and challenge each other to add content in the form of six word stories. Ten words, a paragraph–they’re ok, too.

It’s been fun choosing six words, even something to do everyday for a year, a puzzle, a challenge, a learning tool. Each word brings satisfaction as it slips into place.

I’ve discovered six word romances are bittersweet; it is more difficult to find that happily ever after tone; they have a way of being real.


Note: I’ve begun to title the posts with a word, the beginning place, the word that prompted my (almost daily) six word romance and welcomes yours.

How Love Works
July 13, 2011, 11:25 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags: , , , ,

Aphrodisiacs, chemicals, and hormones–love depends on a natural high.  Giddy with desire, blissed out with fantasy, love addicts are people bound together with chains as influential as DNA.  Blind, but feeling, love prioritizes life. Like adrenaline, it prefers excitement and danger and fights and wild conversation. When it leaves, it scorns its hosts. They never understand the sweaty palms, the flirtatious glances, the consuming passions were chemical bonds. They opt for pity and tears and everlasting withdrawal.

Friendship, admiration, respect, lucky lovers are given a substitute drug–without the violent high, but with longer effect.

June 12, 2011, 12:24 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags: , , ,

Many years ago, a then-friend and I had an argument; it may have forecast our future split. We disagreed about need.

Artists (I’m including writers) often feel a desperate need to work. My friend was a dancer; she wouldn’t be able to live if she couldn’t dance—I love it that much.

Nonsense. If a car ran over your legs, you’d find something else to do. I was practical and hopeful. But the argument stretched into the night. I advocated transferring skills and she insisted her genius was bound to a wooden or marley floor. Romantic and desperate, I hoped she was never forced to change her identity. Our meal together was awkward and silent. I didn’t understand her restraints.

I wonder why her identity was so rigid and why this attitude chokes up great lovers and great artists. If he dies, I can’t live. Desperate and romantic, singular love is deceptively pure. Artists are greater than their craft. They must be—to deliver worth. People are greater than one love. They must be—to love one person so deeply.

Emotional Intelligence
June 7, 2011, 7:21 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags:

When we are in the midst of overwhelming feelings, intense grief for example, we seek peace, a restful state. So, why is it that men and women abandon one another to search for love, intense and overwhelming love, when their relationship settles into a blissful peace?

June 5, 2011, 3:42 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags: , , ,

Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty and sexuality, figures importantly in my thoughts.  I wonder how much sex the characters in my books should have, how stunning they are and whether their love is as pure as the smell of honeysuckle. How much desire, lust, do these characters feel? Will my hero worship stretch marks? Will she mind his thinning hair?  Will their love have the maturity of a fully formed goddess rising from the sea?

I punch Aphrodite’s soft belly. My thumb is tucked in; my knuckles make a flat plain of force.  I pull out handfuls of Aphrodite’s long tresses. I ignore her creamy, lovely breasts. I kick her feet with vehemence—a fast, roundhouse kick that topples her back into salty foam. I’m violent with anger. Love, Beauty, Sexuality flounder; Aphrodite begs for immortality.

She can’t swim.

I watch, troubled. I don’t speak Greek, so don’t understand her pleas. Reluctantly, I curl my fist. Aphrodite, go back from whence you came.  Quit seducing me with your perfections and your promises of constant euphoria.

Expand and Contract
May 30, 2011, 2:02 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags: ,

The field, with its scrubs and cows, is like love. Open ground, sometimes fertile, sometimes not.

The forest, dense with undergrowth, is like love. A deer path seduces me to venture into shadowed seclusion on a hot summer day.

Whether expanding or contracting, love surrounds us. Branched or furled, love beats in steady rhythm. My love, my family, my friends, my country.

Love Out of Step
May 28, 2011, 2:36 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags: , ,

There was a day, playing dodge ball, when I was the last girl inside the circle. The count increased, 6-7-8. I’ll never forget a boy named Paul. Incensed that the girls might have another turn, he threw the ball at my back with such vehemence that I landed face down on asphalt.

For those brief counts, 6-7-8, I was a heroine and valued by my playmates. During 6-7-8, I was unaware of who held the ball. I was agile, speedier than a ball, better than the boys thought. Invincible, until a boy named Paul forced the air out of my slight body with a mighty overhand.

My schoolgirl crush, I called it love, on Paul was not affected. His hero status remained and I averted my gaze when he looked at me. Even then, I knew Paul’s awareness of my presence lasted a countdown, 6-7-8; it disappeared when his craw became visible on count 9.

An adequate love is a volley of affection and reason.

Where Stories Count

This blog? Where stories count:

I share short-short stories on this blog: Three sentence stories and  flash fiction in response to writing challenges.