Behind The Curtain

They say, whoever "they" are, to write what you know. The truth is, I don't know a thing about romance. I really should have done more research on this subject.

In 2024, writing was my mental therapy. I poured over 70,000 words into what I hoped would become a romance novel-thirteen stories filled with longing, connection, and the magic of possibility. Thirteen stories to release monthly, throughout the 2025 year. But this project started to feel like a burden, a ball and chain I was carrying around, refusing to let go and accept it for what it was.

I tried. But the truth is, I never knew romance. I never even read a romance novel. Who was I to think I could write one?

Of those thirteen stories, only three survived. The rest? I had to let them go. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Not every story has an ending; some just stop. Revisiting these characters and plots I was once so excited about only brings me sadness now. And many of the ideas weren't even fully mine. Continuing them doesn't feel right.
I wasn't built for love stories. I was built for endings. And maybe I should have seen this one coming.