Mary, as my muse, continued to bring me good luck in the world of writing. She is the ultimate in romantic inspiration, a striking redhead with style, sass, and a brilliant mind, and I look forward to writing her again.
But she is not the only one of my friends to land on the pages of my books.
Your own book release shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.
Erotic romance, despite being a genre as old as time itself, can be very divisive, even in today’s world, and I’ve encountered a remarkable amount of ignorance, backlash and shaming to go along with it.
That being said, I’ve also encountered support, acknowledgment, and recognition that, yes, erotic romance is a feminist genre and oh hey, we didn’t invent the wheel.
In the great spectrum of history and the universe, my Bachelor’s degree does not hold up to the onslaught of information, facts, figures, and theories that make up all of humanity, nature, and what we do not know.
And that’s awesome.
It was a big contest too. There was pomp and circumstance and flowers and a big prize package to work with a self-publishing house.
My first instinct was ‘this is amazing.’ My second instinct was, ‘what did I just get myself into?’
Well, this is it. This is the part of being a writer that sucks so much worse than the movies show. This part hurts.
I’ve indulged in enough nature documentaries and post-apocalyptic YA fantasy stories to know that if you ever find yourself stranded – especially on an island in the middle of the ocean – the most important, number one, highest-priority thing to do is find potable water.
If you follow write what you know literally, you are going to severely limit yourself as a writer.
The truth is, my imagination is often bigger than my gut. I’d like to think that if I ever got dropped into a situation, I’d take a deep breath and agree to some really cool things, but there’s a lot I know I’ll never get the opportunity to do.
And a lot I plan to do anyway.
There was never a time in my life I wasn’t making up mad tales and then eventually putting them to paper, where my love for the idea turned into a love for the words themselves and then the craft and then combination of all three.
What would I be if I wasn’t a writer?
I have no idea.