Writing is like talking to yourself all day and then realizing everyone is listening. Sometimes it’s embarrassing, other days it’s hilarious, and most days, if you can convince yourself to keep typing, it’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on! I’m a romance writer… how did you not see that coming?

On a daily basis I drink enough coffee to keep a small village buzzing for a week because it’s the proven way to pull the next few words from my brain before they escape into a blackhole where only Elon Musk can extrapolate their exact location. When creating a love story from nothing but blank pages, I have found an odd and not highly recommended method which I will detail below.

Somewhere around day one: I have a brilliant idea. I can see it all—the crazy characters, the insane love scenes, and all of the drama it will take them to get their happy ever after.

Week one: I type in a mad frenzy. Smoke flies from the keyboard. The sexual tension between characters exceeds sweltering limits. There might be instant combustion (on the page and in my mind).

A few weeks later: As I type, I debate rather to delete the entire 30,000-word tangled mess before me and start from the beginning with a whole new set of characters. I don’t. Although, I seriously consider cutting my hair or dying it because I need to do something extreme, or I will definitely reconsider ever writing again.

A few more weeks or months later (I don’t know any more because they all blur together.): I reach a mid-way point and think my characters officially have enough problems. It might be time to start solving them or at least for the love of God let them bang. Then I realize I don’t know how to unravel all of the horrible things I have done to my characters. I have created an intricate web of conflicts and love gone awry. Only Sherlock Homes with some serious help from Nora Roberts could possibly bring closure to this tale.

Another month later: I am sobbing over the computer. I gave this terribly twisted couple some great times together, but I have just broken them up, or killed their best friends, or done someone so horrible it is beyond forgiveness. Their love is dead. Nothing can save it.

I take a day or two off writing: I have gone “a little too deep” and need to rejoin reality for a breath of fresh air. I decide to enter some type of competitive race or physical event in which I have not trained for but sounds like an excellent idea. I actually pay money to do something I know will not be enjoyable. (See pictures below of Spartan race: 16+ miles with obstacles. I seriously overestimate my physical abilities and will to survive.)

A day after tortuous physical race: I get back to writing. I am truly surprised I survived the awful event I volunteered myself for. Physically drained within an inch on my life, my mind is refreshed. I have the perfect way to end the novel. The characters will find a way back to each other! I hobble to the laptop hellbent on finishing the damn story before I forget everything.

A week later: I type “The End.” I realize I am 100% insane, but I have a rough draft and a story which might have a happily ever after. Only six more drafts to go. Then someday, someone might read this thing. I hope…

Have you ever wanted to write a story? Despite the saga above I highly recommend it. Tell me about what you want to write or create in the comments below.

Don’t let the smiles fool you. I had planned for my husband to leave my body on the mountain so I never had to finish the novel waiting on my laptop at home! :)