We all have guiding forces in our lives, whether they be people, events or circumstances. I’ve been giving some thought to mine, lately, wondering how one goes about showing gratitude to anyone who provided even the tiniest piece of inspiration.
I write romance for a reason. Some consider it a frivolous genre. In some ways, it is. Those who know me best know I have a fairly strong cynical streak, that I often view life with a jaded sort of pragmatism. But, beneath all that, I strongly believe in silver linings, in happy endings and in magic.
My favorite love story is that of my parents. (They probably don’t know that, but anyone who knows them will understand.) The details don’t matter to anyone except them, but through the eyes of a child like me, it was the stuff of romance. They adore each other. Then and now. They always will. When I write about a hero and heroine looking into one another’s eyes as if nobody else exists, I’ve seen that look. And, in some ways, I’ve always ached to describe it. I’m lucky. I get to do it time and time again, as long as I can write.
There are the teachers who had a hand in creating each string of words that slips from my head and finds a home in print. I can’t remember all their names. One praised the social studies report I wrote, telling me it was wonderfully creative, though I’d created a work of fiction that wove the required facts into the body of the report, rather than simply writing staid sentences underscored by such dry things as gross national product and prominant political figures through history.
There is the tenth grade English teacher to whom I have dedicated Grace. She encouraged everything I did and was the first person to tell me she fully expected to see my name in print someday. *grin* Who am I to dash her expectations?
And, of course, the typing teacher. I initially took her class because I had an enormous crush on her son. By the time I left high school, I’d taken all of her classes. Now, when my mind is sucked deep into the creative process, when it is spinning faster than I could ever have kept up with while trying to write by hand, I don’t have to think about what my fingers are doing. I can simply allow the words to flow, my eyes watching them rapidly unfold on the screen, thanks to the skills she taught me.
There’s no way to express my gratitude to them and to so many more. Hopefully…