Love. The most powerful four-letter word any of us will ever know. It has infinite power over every single being. It makes sane people go mad. It makes those who were once smitten, bitter. It has the power to control; to make those in love follow their hearts across cities, states, countries, oceans, and continents. All in the name of this one, primal, emotion that every man and woman seeks to fulfill.
For writers, though, love can be somewhat different. Being in love for a writer gives us an amazing opportunity. It allows us to write some of our most intimate works. We get to write love letters. We have the chance to pour our hearts out to the most important people in our lives.
I will never forget the first person I wrote myriad letters. She was, at the time, the most mesmerizing person I had ever met. I was so in love that I could not think straight. So, of course, on went the letters. I wrote tons of sappy scribblings, put my soul on to paper.
At first, she was flattered and taken aback by my simple gifts to her. Not long after our young love began, she moved away for university, so my letters became all the more imperative. I would receive calls and messages telling me how wonderful and beautiful the letters were (keep in mind, this is before everyone had technology at their fingertips every second of the day). Then, as any young love story goes, it spiraled downward. My letters to her never ceased, but her interest in me did. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder; but, looking back, I say out of sight, out of mind.
Being sensitive and feeling deeply are practically prerequisites for being a writer. So, for a while, I was bitter. My heartache was so deep, I was sure I would never recover. I wrote a lot during that time. It is peculiar what heartache can do for a writer. I am fairly certain I have at least two books written in my journals from that time.
Thankfully, I am over her now. I have moved on, both in my life, and in my writing. I have found that heartache is the best catalyst. Sure, I have had my muses in the past, but being so intensely heartbroken over someone for a writer’s inspiration is equivalent to chicken soup for a sore throat. In fact, I am one heartbreak away from writing an international bestseller. You read that right: break my heart, and I will have a book out by the next year, or at least a rough draft.