It started as an experiment. A professional exercise, even. I write romance novels for a living, which means I spend a considerable amount of time inside the heads of women who are effortlessly magnetic, instinctively brave, and perpetually on the verge of being backed against a wall by someone with excellent bone structure.

I wanted to know what that felt like in practice (ahem!)

So for one week, I committed to living like a romance heroine. I would be that woman... the one things happen to, the one who walks into rooms and changes the energy, AND... you know...the one who doesn't own a single oversized hoodie with a suspicious stain on the sleeve.

Here is what happened.

Day One: The Entrance

Every romance heroine knows how to enter a room. There's always a moment... a pause at the threshold, hair doing something cinematic, the subtle shift in atmosphere as people notice her arrival.

I practiced this at my local Dutch supermarket, Albert Heijn.

I paused in the doorway and I let the automatic doors fully open. I stood for what I felt was a powerful, charged moment.

The man behind me said "excuse me" in Dutch and pushed past with a trolley.

Rude!

Day Two: The Meaningful Eye Contact

Romance heroines are exceptional at loaded eye contact. You know the kind that communicates entire paragraphs of unspoken tension across a crowded coffee shop?

I tried this at my usual café. Not a coffee shop mind you, because that's something different here in the Netherlands.

I identified a suitably atmospheric stranger... dark coat, reading something (on his phone, sigh), adequately mysterious... and I held his gaze for what I calculated was a romantically significant amount of time.

He looked behind him to see what I was staring at. Then he looked at his phone and again and never looked back up.

I ordered a second coffee and stared at my laptop instead, which is what I should have been doing anyway.

Day Three: The Hair

Romance heroines have amazing hair. It cascades or tumbles, or maybe it catches the light even when it's pissing down with rain. And even when it's messy, it's intentionally messy and it looks cool. 

I left the house with my hair down and no plan other than hopefully look like I'd just stepped off a yacht or out of a mildly dangerous situation.

It was windy, as usual. Within twenty seconds I had what can only be described as a full weather event happening on my head. 

A romance heroine would have looked wild and free, but of course, I looked like I'd had a disagreement with a hedge.

Day Four: The Refusing to Explain Myself

Romance heroines are brilliantly enigmatic. They don't over-explain and they never feel the need to fill silences with nervous chatter. They say something quietly amazing and then simply look at the other person and let the words fall where they may.

I tried this in a meeting. Someone asked how the new project was going. I gave a slow, considered smile and said "it's coming together" in what I hoped was an intriguingly cryptic way.

There was a pause. 

The Dutch lady asked again, more specifically, because she needed actual information for an actual deadline.

I explained everything in full detail, probably too much detail, and also apologised twice because I'm not a romance heroine - I am British.

Day Five: The Dramatic Walk

I dedicated this day to walking with purpose. Romance heroines don't just walk do they? We all know they move through spaces like they own them, coat billowing out, heels confident on cobblestones, the world quietly rearranging itself around their trajectory.

I put on my nicest coat, leashed my dog and set off.

The walk was genuinely going well until my dog saw a cat and promptly gave chase, like she always does, causing me to flail my arms out most ungraciously and almost crash into a bollard.

Thank God I wasn't wearing heels!

Day Six: The No Umbrella Policy

Romance heroines do not carry umbrellas. They get caught in the rain and it is beautiful and cinematic and their mascara does something photogenic.

Reader, I repeat... I live in the Netherlands.

I lasted eleven minutes before I was completely soaked through, and it was not cinematic. It was hideous. I felt like Kiss in a bad music video and a waterproof jacket. 

I went home. I changed, and I picked up the umbrella.

Day Seven: The Reflection

I sat at my desk on the final day, in my stained hoodie and considered what I had learned from this experience.

Romance heroines are extraordinary creatures. They move through the world with a grace and magnetism that is, I can confirm, not easily replicated by a British woman in Utrecht who is being actively defeated by the weather and... well, literally everything else.

But here's what I also know. The heroines I love most aren't actually perfect. They're perfectly flawed like the rest of us.