Fresh FIction Box Not To Miss
Deirdre Martin | Crushed
Uncategorized / March 14, 2008

I’m 46 and I still get crushes. I’m not talkin’ seeing a Russell Crowe movie and thinking,”Hootchie Mama, that’s one fine lookin’ Aussie.” I’m talkin’ lying on my bed mooning. I’m talkin’ trawling the internet for info and pictures. I’m talkin’ the full Tiger Beat treatment. And you know what? I think they play a pivotal role in my writing romance. I got my first crush when I was five. It was Davy Jones of the Monkees. Those big brown eyes. That British accent. Of course, if I’d known he was only 4’3″, I might not have felt the same. But when you’re five, you don’t wonder why your idol is the same height as you. Next? George Harrison. He had the best Beatle hair and I thought he was deep. I actually credit George with launching me on the road to writing romance. In sixth grade, I used to write G-rated stories about me and George. I still have them and they’re hilarious. Then came Pete Townshend of the Who. I know: His nose is so big he could smoke a cigar in the rain; but he’s so smart, with the most gorgeous blue eyes…. Keith Richards of the…