In early 2016, I had a dream. Not an abstract, utopian imagining. A literal “I went to sleep and my brain made a movie” dream. A man and woman walked through my mind that night. I didn’t know their names or what they did for a living or if they had dreams of their own. The only thing I knew was that they wanted me to tell their story. I fought their prodding to open that blank Word document for months. But they would not leave my mind, giving me tiny details about themselves at the most inopportune moments of my day. A name here, a job there. Eventually, they wore me down and I started the incredibly daunting task of writing my first novel. A year or so later, after opening that Word document on lunch breaks and weekends, I finished the story of those two people.
What now?
Personally, I would’ve stopped there. I told myself to let that story live on forever in my Google docs and move on with my life. My brain had other plans. Two more people, another story, then another, and another, and another, until I had finished four 80,000+ word novels with another five still stuck in my head. By the time I finished the third I thought, maybe I should do something with these. I mean they had sucked up a significant portion of my life. Might as well see what I can make of them. I tried the traditional publishing route for about a year. Then, my husband convinced me to self-publish. Just put them out there and see how people respond. I’m legitimately not trying to get rich. I’m just trying to give you books that I love in the hopes that you love them too. I want you to escape from your everyday life and dive into the pages of these stories. I want you to see yourself in these people. I want you to care about their lives. I want you to fall in love with them. Because I did. They are a piece of me now. A piece of me that I’m sharing with you.
Happy Reading!