Writing a romantic fiction

I shared before how I'd given myself this impossible task of writing a romantic fiction. After two weeks of making that decision, reading a dozen books, and troubling poor Mandi with a dozen questions (pending a long interrogative conversation with Ashley) and torturing my own imagination to create at least a place, a character, a name to have at least a word written for the project, I've eventually come up with three paragraphs and developed some what of a back story of my one character so far.

In the beginning I just sorta had a situation, that gave way to character, which gave way to a back story, that lead to two more characters. Now, none of them have names yet although the relations between all of them came without much trouble. It was easier to write and move forwards a bit (the very tiniest bit) once I started writing. At first, I didn't even know what point of view would I be writing from. First person point of view just seemed impossible. How do I put myself in shoes of my character, when I know not what this character will be; who it'll be?

Generally when I write, the idea, story, poem, essay, even research paper take form within second in my head. Then it's just the matter of writing it down, dressing and editing it.  But with this project, my imagination had been stunned and stumped. It didn't know what to do. Amusingly enough, I just realized, I could pull my own experiences in life in crating the life of my characters. This story and I seem to have started an odd new relationship.

Generally, my poem or story is all formed in so short a moment that it just simply exists. But this story, seems to be forming so slowly that it more of revealing itself to me. I know no more of what will happen next to my characters, than they do. It's like watching a movie for the first time, but you also happen to be the one making it. It really is a strange sort of phenomenon, and I happen to be enjoying this for now. We'll see where this leads the story, and who comes and goes in it. Even though I'm writing it, it seems that I'm simply observing the lives of strangers and jotting down what happens, as it happens.