It never does.
Fictional weddings, on the other hand, I love. LOVE! I could attend those weddings all day long. I'd love to be a guest at them, admire the bride's dress, witnesses the meaningful, well-worded vows, eat the culinary delights at the reception, and dance the night away with the groom's wacky cousin.
Writing wedding scenes is one of the highlights of writing romance. They are spots in a book where, as a writer, you can create perfection. The wedding can be anything you want it to be--maybe everything you wish your own wedding had been. You get to pick your location, design dresses, put sexy men in tuxedos, use symbolism to illustrate the relationship between the bride and groom...all without the real-life worry of who is going to pay for all of it.
Here's a clip from a wedding scene in my novel FIREFLY MOUNTAIN:
“Take it down a notch, okay?” It was taking a bit
of effort to keep the anger at bay. Gini made a
decision right then to stay away from Lily for the
rest of her stay in Rhode Island to be on the safe
side. “Your sister is a great person, and she deserves
a perfect day. You making comments and sulking
around makes it un-perfect.”
Lily opened her mouth, but Gini held up a hand.
“Just fade into the background. It’s not about you.”
Gini slipped out the French doors in the dining
room before Lily could say anything. She crossed the
wide patch of pristine lawn to the gazebo and chairs
set up for family and friends. There had to be at
least four hundred chairs by Gini’s estimate. She
thought of the Matthews wedding she had
photographed in Burnam. Seventy-five guests tops.
On the bride’s family farm. Bride and groom had
worn jeans and arrived at the ceremony on
horseback. The reception was a barbecue.
Looking around at the mini water fountains,
flowers, and candles in crystal holders set up on the
round tables under hundreds of tiny lights strung
through the trees, Gini didn’t think ribs on the grill
or jeans would make an appearance tonight.
Newport was a world away from Burnam. Love
would be the only common factor between Willow’swedding and the Matthews wedding, and Gini
supposed that was all you needed anyway.
Not that she’d ever know.
“It’s not about you either,” she told herself.
Shaking her head, she walked deeper into the area
and started snapping photos of the decorations, the
waiting gazebo, the prepped tables, the string
quartet setting up, the ocean kissing the sand in the
That shore at the edge of the property had called
to her all day, but Willow had kept Gini busy with
this and that. There hadn’t been a free moment to
steal away to the beach and test the water with her
bare toes. But tomorrow. Tomorrow was another
day. Willow and Andrew would be off on their
honeymoon in Australia, but had said Gini was
welcome to stay with Mrs. Greene and Lily in the
cottage for as long as she wanted. So tempting to
stay for weeks, but Gini would make do with a day,
two tops. She planned to bike ride along the coast
tomorrow morning and be a beach bum for the rest
of the day. She couldn’t wait.
Gini took a few more pictures of the grounds and
caught a lovely sailboat gliding by on the water. The
sun had almost disappeared below the horizon.
Purple-pink streaks hovered above the dark water
now, and a nearly full moon climbed to its zenith in
the starry sky. The night was hot, but a soft breeze
off the ocean kept it from being stifling. The air
sifted through tall grasses that lined the border
sifted through tall grasses that lined the border
between lawn and sandy shore. The gentle swish
was a music all its own.
She turned around to see Willow leaning out a
windowsill, dressed in white, several feet of stone
cottage beneath her. The contrast between soft white
wedding dress and rough gray rock was too much for
Gini to resist. She snapped a picture, loving the playof textures.
“Come in here,” Willow called.
Gini waved and walked back to the cottage. She
climbed the stairs and raised her hand to open the
back door. Before her fingers made contact though,
the door opened. Willow clamped onto Gini’s arm
and yanked her inside. She pulled Gini upstairs into
a bedroom and closed the door.
“What am I doing?” Willow’s eyes were wide, her
“Getting married, I think,” Gini said.
“Why is my heart pounding? I don’t feel right. I
think I’m going to vomit.” Willow sat on the end of
the bed and pulled Gini down beside her. “Is it hot in
here? I was cold like two seconds ago and now it’s
boiling in here? Are you boiling?”
“Yikes,” Gini said. “Take a breath, Willow.
“I think I’m freaking out. Andrew called me to
let me know he’s at the main house and can’t wait to
see me, to marry me.” She stood and paced in front
of Gini. “Now, I can’t breathe.”
“Okay, okay.” Gini stood too and grasped
Willow’s shoulders to stop her from wearing a rut in
the carpet. “You’re just a little anxious. You love
“More than anything.”
“See, you didn’t have to think twice about that
answer, Willow. This is right. You know it is.”
Willow grinned. “It
meant to be husband and wife. I lost it for a minute
there. Lily’s comments just kept circling through my
head, and suddenly I thought I was making a
monumental mistake.” She shook her head. “Not
marrying Andrew would be a monumental mistake.”
“All better?” Gini relaxed her grip on Willow.
“Yes. I’m ready.” Willow hugged Gini as a soft
knock sounded on the door.
“Willow, it’s time,” Mrs. Greene called.
“I’m ready,” Willow said again. She took Gini’s
hand and tugged her to the door. “Get that camera
ready. I’m going to need proof that I’ve actually said,‘I do.’”
Do you like weddings? What is your favorite thing about them? What don't you like about weddings? (C'mon, you know there is something you don't like.)
Want more romantic fun with Gini Claremont and Patrick Barre in Firefly Mountain? Buy it from Amazon in print or ebook here.