I have been resisting the urge to write a romance for years. I kept telling myself that my first book needs to be deep and inspiring, a meaningful exposé of the human condition, filled with hidden plots and witty conversation. It needed to be important. But in the end… what is more important than love? More worthwhile? More deserving of the dedication required to write a novel?
How could it have ever been anything other than love?
I am a romantic. I always have been. I hope that nothing ever brings me down so low that I forget how to daydream. As such, my first completed, full-length story is going to be a fairy tale. And I’m going to love writing every page of it.
I barely have any clue what it is going to be about. There’s going to be a boy. And a girl. And magic.
I really hope you like it. :)
“I am a dreamer. I always have been. During every minute of the day the dreams are fluid, constantly shifting. With every breath, they take on new life, new form; an endless barrage of possibility. But in the night, when the world sleeps so peacefully under the glittering skies, until that first glow graces the horizon… In the night, I only dream of you.”