Every story I write begins with two things: a cup of coffee and a “what if.”
Sometimes it’s a random line that pops into my head — other times, it’s a feeling I can’t shake. My mornings start early, before the world gets noisy. Just me, my mug, and Sophia snoring softly nearby as I stare at a blinking cursor that dares me to start.
The truth is, writing is equal parts magic and mess. Some days the words come easily, flowing like conversation. Other days, it’s a wrestle — between fear, perfectionism, and faith. But even on the hardest days, I can’t imagine doing anything else.
My characters become my companions. They talk back. They surprise me. They challenge me to see the world more tenderly. And when I finally write “The End,” I always smile — not because the story’s over, but because I get to share it with you.
Every novel is a journey of heart — and every cup of coffee, every deleted line, every late-night brainstorm is worth it if it means creating something that speaks to someone else’s soul.