Some people have always known they wanted to write. Others fall into it and discover its inherent joy. I’m somewhere in between. As an avid reader, writing a novel had always tickled the back of my mind. There seem to be a lot of people who say, “Someday I’ll write a book.” For me, the feeling tickled, moved into an incessant knocking and finally became a dull roar. All I needed was to make that “someday” into “today.”
I’ve always considered myself a creator, so transitioning to writer was not as grueling as it might have been. From creating two minute stories for people on the street, to creating jewelry, crafts, stained glass, pottery, music, crazy art projects… the list of things I like to create (and buy all the necessary materials for) keeps getting longer amidst my family’s exasperated groans. I love to start something from scratch, and then mold and shape it into a finished project. Writing books provides a challenge I accept with relish (and a bit of hair pulling). Building a world, populating it with characters and giving them a script and satisfying ending – what more could a creative type ask for?
I’ve always loved romance novels, ever since I started sneaking them from my Mom in elementary school. I mean, what’s not to love? Rakish men and smart, feisty women, adventure and mystery, the love and loyalty between two people. Give me a roomful of romances, some Agatha Christie, some Edgar Allan Poe, the Harry Potter series and an armful of other fantasy novels, (and steady meals with chocolate) and I’m in heaven.
And heaven is what I consider a particular cottage on an inland lake in northern Michigan during the summertime. If you are headed “up north” this summer, maybe I’ll see you on the way…