As a writer of romance, I sometimes venture into sci-fi or fantasy, among other genres. Crossing genres is a fun way to get creative. Time travel is one of my favorite things to write about. Having read time travel by both romance and sci-fi authors, I’ve noted quite a difference in style. I like how sci-fi writers give plausible (if not yet possible) explanations for the method of time travel, and the results are quite entertaining. As for romantic time travels, I find the happy endings so rewarding.
I lean more toward the romantic end of things but not exactly in a way that I’ve read before when it comes to time travel. This sub-genre is wide open for possibilities, and every time I write it, I try different mechanisms for getting my characters through time. In my Romeo vs. Juliet series, my characters use time portals to enter a hall of the centuries where they access the past and the future. It’s partially paranormal/supernatural, and partially knobs and medal, plastic and wiring etc.
Here’s a little from the second in the series: Romeo vs. Juliet II: The Questrist,
( a time travel, romantic speculative fiction)
Born in Elizabethan England, Ambrose Radcliffe has spent centuries jumping from one time period to another by order of the Big Boss. His missions are often dangerous, and his wife, Josephine, is almost always in the middle of the disaster.
Josephine Radcliffe has decided history needs a change for the better. Her influence has completely eradicated Elizabethan England and reshaped the world as not only she knows it, but Ambrose too.
Their worlds are shattered. Life will never be the same because
the Big Boss never allows for a ‘do over’.
And an excerpt:
“You still love your husband,” Richard said.
“With all of my heart, I do.” Her heart and mind swelled with intense emotion for Ambrose.
Ambrose’s heart became pinched with the same feeling. “My beloved.”
“But you say he is no longer among us.”
“He does not reside here on this earth in this century.”
Richard blinked in confusion. “My lady?”
She sighed. “I’m a seer.”
“Richard, you will be betrayed. At Bosworth. Do not trust Lord Stanley. When Henry Tudor engages you in battle, those you believed to be your friends will be your downfall. I know you’re grieving the loss of your family, and you will leave the result of the battle for God to decide, but you will be reckless, and you will be killed.”
Richard gaped at her.
A new wave of cold fear washed over Josephine. To speak of a king’s death was treason and meant death.
She rushed out her next words. “I don’t want you to die. I believe you’re a good man who could do so much for your country. I’ll tell you all that God has ordained for me to know.”
“You…” Richard’s voice shook. “You’re a seer? You know these things to be true?”
He studied her face. “You tell me the truth, and you’re not crazy. There is no madness in your eyes. And your faith, Josephine?”
She reached into a small silk bag, which hung from her wrist and pulled out a crystal rosary. She squeezed the crucifix in her hand. “I am loyal to the Pope.”
Richard smiled and nodded.
Nauseous, Ambrose swallowed his dread.
“Only if you marry me and give me heirs,” Richard said.
Josephine gasped. Oh God, no. “But…”
“Unless you do not really care for me?”
“But I do.” As a human being. “You’re innocent. I know it,” she said to Richard.
“Then prove it,” he responded.
I have no bloody choice but to make him believe it’s so. I’ll find a way to escape before the wedding ceremony….her thoughts whirled.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” When pigs fly.
Richard squeezed her.
“Shut the bloody thing off,” Ambrose said and spun around.
Belinda pointed her finger to the screen, and it became smoky gray. Ambrose glanced down. Small changes occurred in his Elizabethan attire. His doublet grew two inches longer and became a shade darker. His hose became less poofy, and his shoes less, well, fashionable in his opinion, with no heel at all, and overall they were more conservative, but oddly, far richer in materials. He now wore silk and velvet, though as a commoner he would not have been allowed to walk around Elizabethan England in such, and this confused him.
“My clothes! She succeeded…” he dropped off, the breath leaving his body.
Elizabethan England was gone.
“Yes, the bubble protects time-traveling humans and animals, but clothes and objects change according to the new time-line.”
Anger for his wife sizzled in his heart.
I have a post-apocalyptic series too, considered my venture into the fantasy genre. Here’s a little about the second in my “Queen Nayda” series, “Why, My Love”:
Why, My Love:
What will a queen do to win back her man and her country? Nayda, a warrior queen, and her husband rule over a small kingdom in a post-apocalyptic world doing the best they can to rebuild their city and bring prosperity to their citizens.
A European queen visits and creates chaos. She goes to war with Nayda and takes her crown, and, under strange circumstances steals her husband. Now Nayda must return to her espionage ways. Her missions are extremely dangerous, even more so than battle, where she can at least see the sword coming.
“I thought I knew you, Jeff.” Her body turned cold, and she swooned inwardly, not knowing who this stranger before her was. This was the biggest disaster of her life.
Eternity seemed to be frowning on her. She imagined herself lying dead on the ground with his sword in her chest, and she knew that part of her had just died. She made an effort to steady her anxious breathing and calm her trembling hands. Jeff lifted his sword and took a killing stance—his feet wider, his arms up in position. She gasped, and tears burned her eyes. With practiced speed, she caught his blade on the downswing, with her own. It rang out, and her heart pounded in its wreckage. Back and forth they swung, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
He forced her back, her feet shuffling. She stumbled over a twig and fell on her back. He bore down with vengeance, and she rolled away. His blade pinned a long, brown braid to the leaves beneath it. She scampered up, missing the braid, and was backed into a tree, and his blade came up and swished, cracking the air with the sound of thunderous betrayal.
“Last request!” she shouted in utter desolation.
Steel stopped, its edge cutting her neck. Sticky blood inched down her skin.
He nodded once.
Laura lives in Colorado and has various stories out with different publishers. They range from short stories to full-length novels. Most are romance. Laura likes to write historical, some sci-fi, and paranormal, especially time travel fiction.
Thanks very much, Sue, for having me as your guest! I love to host authors at my blog, Travel the Ages, and would welcome enquiries. 🙂 -Laura
Thank you, Laura.