I started writing chapter 6 of my next romance novel, temporarily titled Romance Collection #7, yesterday. Before I did though, I played around with a T-shirt design for the garden centre that appears in the novel. Here’s what I got.
I believe uniforms are important. They provide instant notification to whatever group the person is associated with. It’s why armies, hockey teams and companies use uniforms.
For the individual, feeling part of a team gives them confidence. They are not alone. It erases diversity and makes everyone the same. This sameness creates a common goal and empowers the individual to act for the good of everyone, not just the individual.
In military and sports, everyone wearing the same outfit gives the impression to the enemy and opposing team that there are many against them. They can’t target an individual for looking different.
In a retail setting, a uniform separates customers from store staff.
From my experience, a positive feeling is generated by ‘suiting up’. Putting on a uniform triggers something in my brain that tells me I’m ready for business. This might be a baseball jersey or a garden centre T-shirt.
Over the holidays, I watched A Castle for Christmas, and it inspired a new romance novel. The working title is Romance Collection #7. However, this story doesn’t have a castle in it. At least I don’t think it does. It takes place in New Scotland, not Scotland. Also, it won’t take place a Christmastime. Actually, there are few similarities, but that doesn’t matter.
I’m on chapter three, racing towards chapter four. I’ve already introduced the two main characters and a few supporting cast members. Here’s the first, unedited chapter.
Romance Collection #7
The large wooden sign attached to the front of the building over the front entrance desperately needed a new coat of paint. It read Walker’s Feed and Garden Store only when looking directly at it. Angled views made it appear as Wa ker’s Fee and arde tore. Grey siding did nothing to invoke charm or energy, two qualities required to enrich the garden and farm life. Remnants of the recent snowfall lingered near the doorway in dirty mounds, slowly melting in the mild temperatures of late March. An overcast sky dulled the setting further.
Introducing herself at a new feed store was the last thing Freya Dawson – No! Freya O’Clery wanted, but it was a must if she were to buy supplies for her chickens and garden locally. Driving an hour to her old shop was out of the question, nor did she want to be reminded of what had transpired there shortly before leaving the community. Releasing a defeated sigh, the gloom enveloped her thoughts. Leaving was difficult; so was arriving. The ideal time was in the transition, neither there nor here.
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