I’m about to share a secret. Shhhh… don’t tell anyone but…
This quote is the truth.
Once upon a time, whilst Christmas shopping last December, I found myself magnetically drawn—as I always do—to the book section. I picked up books, flipped through pages, comparing book lengths to my own in attempt to justify just how ridiculously long my novel is, and then sat them back down on the shelves. I stared up at them all and let out a sigh—and then this *pain* gripped my heart. An agonizing longing, a torment that nearly had me in a ball on the floor… I’ve never felt such a thing. Such a strong call, as if from beyond a glass, if I could just break through…
My dream is to see my book on a shelf someday, among all those other books.
And not just *any* book I write, but *this* book. This one that I’ve sent out to be judged by publishers. Because this book, these characters, this story, got me through the most difficult moments in my life. It was a light through shadows. It made me happy.
Writing is more than a hobby. Writing is magic. Words have the power to save you. To save others. To shine light in darkness. To turn the very planet in a different direction. Words have the power to throw people into a different pair of shoes, to open eyes, to make the deaf hear, to change hearts and the most stubborn of minds. Writing is about lifting and getting back up, and getting happy.
Where Rose Writes Very True Stories 