My Distant Love,

Pack your bags. I’ve wired the funds.

I’m the loneliest, most romantic man on the western seaboard. I need you here, within reach, a touch away.

I’m putting on a one-man love letter-reading, romance-reciting soliloquy in the Herbert Brooks Theatre on the night after Thanksgiving. I want you front row center.

Nothing quite like this has been done. If Lawrence Fishburne can inhabit “Thurgood” and Val Kilmer can recreate “Mark Twain” and Mike Tyson can stage-exorcise Mike Tyson’s demons and share life lessons, then I can surely thespian “Romance by Rg2: What a Man Wants.”

Acting, balladeering, irony, humor, a few tears, and, most of all, romance will fill the night.

All my romanceworks and ‘proetry’ themes are captured in a stage rendering like no other.

I was turned down earlier this month, again, by another editor. She said she couldn’t greenlight the manuscript because she felt my themes were a little too heavy for today’s reader. “Comedy,” she wrote in the rejection letter, “is what readers want alongside romance, they don’t want to be made to think too hard.”

Par for the course.

I invited her to the private inaugural showing of the stageplay (the house sold out), which ended in a standing-o. I left it all there, on stage: the hurts, the rejections, the countless lonely nights writing to the break of dawn, the blood and tears. And laughter, too.

She called me a day after the show. I’d never received a direct call from an editor. The initial moments were eerie, a pregnant silence preceded her voice. She apologized. She then broke down. Right there on the phone.

She had the power to greenlight, she said, but her judgment failed her. But more, her hands were tied. She broke down further.

The woman broke down because she had listened to her head–the publisher’s bottom line–instead of her emotional instincts.

I consoled her. ‘Hey, it’s OK. You gave me a chance to submit my work, you took the time, that’s all I could ask.’ She apologized again. I told her, ‘God’s gonna bless the both of us in due time. Keep me in your prayers.’

People are human.

I’m swimming upstream, Love. Damn, it’s hard. But I’ve got nothing to lose. Except my soul. I’ve vowed to keep that. I’m gonna die trying.

I need you, woman. Here. Within reach. Within touch. Someone who genuinely cares about me.

Pack your bags. I’ve wired the funds.

I need you. Will you come?

Yours,
Rg2

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A Romance urgency . . . in Autumn.

© 2013 Romance by Rg2®