Real women aren’t perfect, not even close.
Real women struggle with everything from nail polish to career choices to figuring out who they really are. Real women teeter on the balance beam between nice and sassy, between saying “yes” and saying “no.” Real women change their minds, question their decisions, search for the meaning of life, and rarely find all of the answers written in the sky. Real women don’t face choices that are black and white, choices with a clearly correct answer. Real women learn quickly life is messy, complicated, beautiful, and disastrous, sometimes at the same exact moment.
Real women know love is a gorgeous catastrophe. It’s full of heart “wowing” moments, of moments to live and breathe for. It’s full of explosion worthy pain, of difficult goodbyes, of trying to forget. Real women fall in and out of love, then back in again. Real women change their minds.
As a fan of contemporary romance, women’s fiction, and chick lit, I want to see myself in the stories. I want to see a woman and say, “That could be me,” or “I get her.” I want my characters to be complex and challenging and quirky.
Most of all, I want them to be real.
Thus, as a writer in these genres, I strive to write women I would want to read about… real women. I write about women who don’t have it all figured out. I write about women who struggle with choices, who sometimes swear, who have female rivals they think catty things about. I write about women who seem to have it all but who are unhappy. I write about women who have to decide between their career and love, between friendship and love, between freedom and love. I write about women who are accountants and teachers and business owners and hair stylists and dog walkers and everything else a woman might want to be. I write about women who love the color pink. I write about women who hate the color pink. I write about all types of women, twentysomethings to eightysomethings.
Most of all, I write about women who are real.
Real women aren’t perfect, not even close. Thus, my characters aren’t perfect, not even close. They make bad decisions. They struggle. They change their minds. They change them again.
Literature worth reading should show the reader a glimpse of herself, should allow her to be, even if just for a page, in the story.
My biggest dream, my biggest goal I hope to achieve, is to write like this.
Real characters for real women.
That’s my writing goal.
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