Last night I realised my husband doesn’t have a hero. As I presented this new found realisation to him and he made appropriate noises to my revelations, I realised more and more how my heroes affect my daily life. They represent my goals and life standards. They’re in my head talking to me and influencing every step I take. They’re fluid and changeable with age and influence, but they are there. I consult them daily, they just don’t know it.

This wouldn’t be a blog primarily focussing on my passion for reading and writing if I didn’t mention here that my current hero is Maisey Yates. Those of you who devour Harlequin Presents know who I’m talking about.

My natural inclination is to insert an essay on Maisey’s contribution to the romance genre but I’ll contain myself. Just. Instead I’ll keep that essay for my next post. But yeah, she’s pretty awesome.

I digress. I asked my husband if he’d ever had a hero. He ummmed and ahhhhed and vaguely cited a couple of people he’d felt an affinity with over the years. But no one who truly inspired him. This made me sad. It made me wonder how important it really is to have a hero.

My hero helps me focus on my goals. She is the standard to which I base my own work. How do you stay focused when you don’t have a hero? How do you define standards in your life if you never aim for higher or more skilled practices?

It was at this point in my ramblings from the couch that my husband started to really become part of the conversation. By that I mean he looked at me occasionally and smiled as well as ummming and ahhhhing. But I knew I’d piqued his interest. We are subtle people.

So I leave you with this:

Do you believe in heroes? How does your hero keep you focused on your goals?

*cue ‘I need a hero! I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the end of the night…’*

X Angelina.