Summer of Love and Writer’s Block #RomanceNovels #AmWriting #LoveStories

 

This summer is about love. It has to be, because that’s the only way to survive.

The world is always a mess, but lately, all the different fires seem to be raging and collecting new fires. The disastrous state of things made me take a moment to question the future of humanity, which led me to question why I write about love when people don’t seem to love one another. How do I write a dystopian scenario when it feels like we’re living in the beginning of a dystopian novel where systemic greed caused massive destruction? How do I write a poem about the beauty of nature when developers continuously tear down all the forests to make more houses and strip malls? When everything seemed hopeless, I began to wonder why my words even mattered.  

I left my laptop closed. My pen and multitude of composition notebooks stayed on my desk, untouched, for days that bled into weeks. Instead of writing, I spent every second of my spare time completing mindless tasks and minor home renovation projects. In the evenings when everything was quiet and my body was too tired for more mindless tasks, I turned on the tv and found a few good shows. I devoured Carnival Row, Maxton Hall, and other shows and movies where love came for people who weren’t ready, for people who weren’t supposed to be together, often appearing during times of difficulty when a relationship should have been the last thing on anyone’s mind. Sometimes love comes searching with teeth and drags the unsuspecting into the light, other times, it’s hidden in plain sight, waiting to be discovered.

Often, I get busy moving along, trying to make some kind of difference and getting angry that so little progress gets made. I’m often distracted, trying to get through my list of chores and responsibilities for each day and I don’t see the good things that exist among the difficulties and uncertainties. Sometimes, reminders have to come for me with teeth and hold me still.

One morning, after several weird dreams, thanks to some nice green herb enjoyed the previous evening, the stillness caught me. I opened my notebook and words spilled from my multicolored dollar store pen. My sloppy handwriting filled page after page. My mind had somehow been collecting a river of ideas even though I hadn’t ever seen the rain.

There are books that I have read and reread over the years because the words were a heart and soul to hold onto and I remembered, I don’t know how I forgot, that I write in order to bring about characters whose stories are something for people to hold onto. The world isn’t getting any better, but in my stories and in my poems, there’s a place for hope.

Love stories can provide a world of escape during troubled times. Also, love stories are about the best parts of us— our kindness, our courage, our capacity to take a risk, and our ability to find the magic moments hidden in the fog. It’s the summer of love and I’m hard at work writing stories where people find the courage to hope and the strength to love and be loved.

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