In romantic fiction, there
are certain characteristics that are pretty much mandatory for our heroes to
possess. They’ve got strong personalities and they’ve got hard names – Jake,
Luke, Jack. You’d be hard pressed to find a Trevor, an Elijah or a Julian as
your romantic hero. Our heroes also, virtually without fail, have got
impressive height.
Our heroines can be any
height, but they’re generally average or below average when it comes to
stature. I cannot count the number of times I’ve read sentences such as, “Even
in her sky high stilettos, she barely reached his shoulder” or “He towered over
her by at least a foot.” As a tall woman, I must confess: I find such sentences
a bit irritating. Do these dainty
little ladies really need these
towering studs? Certainly not.
Women of average or below average height can pair up with practically
any man without feeling like she’s dating her son. Tall women… not so much.
Yes, I know that these
stories are works of fiction, and let me be clear that I do not begrudge any of
the couples I know who fit this description, nor do I shoot daggers at said
couples when I see them on the street. But when I started writing Fashioning a Romance, I was determined
that in my book it would be a tall girl who gets the tall guy.
Not that John towers over
Caitlyn by “at least a foot”. He’d have to be over seven feet tall to do
so. But he has got a few inches on
her, which inspires Caitlyn to buy her very first pair of heels. For the first
time, she gets to experience the sensation of feeling delicate and dainty, a
sensation that’s completely foreign to her. And more than a little thrilling.
So I’d like to give a shout
out to all the fabulously tall gals out there, and specifically to my pals:
Sally, Hilary, Laura, Vikki, Natasha, Alida, Cristina, Celia, Martha and
Allison (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone) and to my virtual tall gal pals:
Bronwyn and Ladylilchub. And to those of you who are single, I hope you find
your very own John Harrington soon.
Love,
Libby
