Be still my beating heart. The
world is a grand fantastic romance. It might be you shelved the romantic thing.
Maybe instead you decided enough of that. It isn’t necessary to write about
relationship to write fiction, but of the kind of three dimensional characters
I am interested in exploring it is a fundamental. With so many options in the
modern world a relationship is for some nothing more than one to many options
that clutters their busy schedule. Relationship can be inconvenient,
uncomfortable, something to manage. Too many come with too much expectation, or
wielding too dangerous a love to risk loving. Then, we have those in our midst
who write love and relationship large, multiple marriages, multiple loves,
tumult and heartbreak, new intrigue and withering sad endings needing final
extinguishing if they only knew how or the best moment to do so. Heartbreak is
a head rush, clears the mind, the sharp stabbing pain, the distraction, the
inability to eat or eat too much, it tips us over, the purpose of all those
slow ballads hones in on the ache and we promise ourselves never, ever again at
least a while…
world is a grand fantastic romance. It might be you shelved the romantic thing.
Maybe instead you decided enough of that. It isn’t necessary to write about
relationship to write fiction, but of the kind of three dimensional characters
I am interested in exploring it is a fundamental. With so many options in the
modern world a relationship is for some nothing more than one to many options
that clutters their busy schedule. Relationship can be inconvenient,
uncomfortable, something to manage. Too many come with too much expectation, or
wielding too dangerous a love to risk loving. Then, we have those in our midst
who write love and relationship large, multiple marriages, multiple loves,
tumult and heartbreak, new intrigue and withering sad endings needing final
extinguishing if they only knew how or the best moment to do so. Heartbreak is
a head rush, clears the mind, the sharp stabbing pain, the distraction, the
inability to eat or eat too much, it tips us over, the purpose of all those
slow ballads hones in on the ache and we promise ourselves never, ever again at
least a while…
“He jammed his hands back into his pockets, and
walked off in the direction she had just come. She continued down the beach.
Noel couldn’t help but reflect that only moments before he had been thinking
about where to go and what to do, and now all of a sudden he was thinking about
what the chances were of finding somebody special.”
walked off in the direction she had just come. She continued down the beach.
Noel couldn’t help but reflect that only moments before he had been thinking
about where to go and what to do, and now all of a sudden he was thinking about
what the chances were of finding somebody special.”
Highway Home
