I can’t get enough of it.
That’s why a few weeks ago when a good friend invited me to accompany her to Tallahassee for her job, I jumped at the opportunity.
That first evening, as we sat across from each other at a booth in Panera’s, we shared pockets of memories from our past. Even though we’d known each other for nine years, I was surprised to learn new information about my friend, Peggy.
Like a romance that made my jaw drop open. As her story unfolded, excitement built inside of me.
Is this the one? Would this story affect others as it does me?
I haven’t been writing for over two months, waiting for a direction. Waiting to know whether or not I should even continue writing fiction.
A week later, I awoke at 5 am with my synopsis written in my head. A Romance. Of all things.
I write women’s fiction. Or so I thought. Unfortunately, this story would not loosen its grip on me. I wrangled with how I would develop it, how I would bring the characters to life, how I would lay this story out differently that my previous ones.
But once I did, the words came.
After all, writing is about story above all else. I want to give Peggy’s story the momentum it deserves. The ending it needs.
Have you ever written in a genre that you’ve not wanted to write in?