One of my favorite writer friends, Amy Frazier, is coming for a visit tomorrow! She was the first writer I met when I became serious about writing--and we met through a writer's group that met an hour away from where we both lived--two doors apart. We critiqued together, walking and swimming and thinking and tearing plots apart, dreaming of the future, joying in the relationship stories we were both writing, though we also both came from an academic tradition that disparaged romance novels.
Even now--and I think I just turned in my 15th novel for Superromance--people still ask me when I'll be writing a "real" novel. I imagine I always look like a fish that just jumped onto the bank, mouth open for the hook that didn't even have to set. Because I love writing about relationships--and the way that a new love echoes throughout a man and woman's community--a stone tossed into a still pool, gathering and pushing and creating a new life for he and she who fall in love, and for everyone who loves them.
Was this a soapbox? Truth is, I just meant to say--I can't wait to see Amy!
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