I have a little trouble writing an alpha male, though I think Stephanie and I are knee deep right now in the most alpha alpha male we've ever created. He probably still isn't quite alpha enough to suit her but he's about all I can stand. I like a little softness, a little sweetness, a little cuddle.
She likes issues, guns, and barbed wire maces. Nathan Scott is hers. She even made me change his name to something with harder consonants, though I don't remember what it was originally. But I am liking him. Okay. That's a lie. I am loving him. You have to love your hero if anyone else has a prayer of it. This is how I got there. I had to let him break my heart. He had to lose everything in the most unfair way possible for me to accept how he behaves toward the heroine.
And I had to let him quietly own the room. You know what I'm talking about. He's that person who everyone looks at when he walks in. He doesn't take the room; he has it to begin with.
This is what the heroine thought about him—though she really didn't want to think about him at all. She couldn't help it. He owned the room.
Nathan was the kind of man who walked into a room like he knew the world was waiting for him—loose hipped, head high, half smiling with eyes half closed and looking at no one. He made his way toward the microphone in the middle of the gym floor as if he was alone and he had until next Tuesday to get there.
It's the way George Strait walks on a stage and how Peyton Manning walks off a football field.
Do you love an alpha male? How do you get in his head? Can you think of anyone who owns the room?