It should come as no surprise that music is kind of a big deal for me. Maybe it's because I have no musical talent whatsoever and so I'm drawn to its mystery. Maybe it's because some of my earliest and most treasured memories are of my beautiful mother playing the guitar and singing me love songs. I think those things probably tangled together to form a desire in my heart to explore it further. Not the music so much, but the emotion behind the song. The people, the story, the soul of the song.
I wanted to be a part of it.
My small contribution to the writing world is my best attempt. Yes, I write romance. No, I'm not ashamed.
I want to take people on an adventure. And if the slow, dangerous exploration of a person's heart isn't an adventure, then I don't know what is.
For what is more mysterious than the intricate layers and motivations of a man?
What has led to more misunderstandings and more victories than the quiet diligence of his soul?
What does he see? What's the color of the sunset from out of his eyes? What kind of memories are replayed with the sound of an old song on the radio? Who is he? Where is he going?
Every story is another cliff dive for me.
I stand on the ledge, feel the wind whip harshly at my body, stealing my breath.
I'm going to jump. Every time.
I have to tell the story. Their story.
It's my song.
On to the next one.