Tuesday, June 19, 2007


Love has everything to do with my writing, and unfortunately, right now, it has absolutely nothing to do with my writing. For the most part, I write because I absolutely love to write. I am impassioned by the written word and when they’re my words, invoking emotion and telling a story that has never been told, my sense of accomplishment is astronomical. When I’m allowed to write what feels good and right for me, I am at my very best and so is my writing.

I’m published in the romance genre, contemporary fiction where guy meets girl, girl and guy have conflict, girl and guy make up, make love, and have a happy ending. Very formulaic, most times predictable, and in this very moment I am sorely lacking the depth of emotion required to get me through my next book. Deadlines are fast approaching and I would much rather endure a root canal with no anesthesia than write another story about some boy who meets a girl and the two live happily ever after.

It is moments like these where I’m inclined to make life altering decisions. Were I to make one right now I would never, for any reason, ever write another romance novel. And only because I’m not writing the stories that I absolutely love to write. I’m writing them because others love that I’m writing them. The writing is good, but I don’t feel like it’s my best work and I’m floundering trying to find the means and motivation to make them my best.

A wise man said that if I can’t be passionate about the process, then I shouldn’t do it. I love wise men, especially when they voice advice that I’d been thinking all along. I so want to write a really great story that moves me like no other. And love has absolutely everything to do with me doing just that.

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