Why I Write Love Stories for Women Who Are Done With Perfect People
I’ve been writing stories since I was six. One was saved by my parents, and it’s as awkward and flawed as you’d expect from a first grader (but I’m still proud of the perfect spelling). That story, like many I wrote growing up, had a main character who messed up but was liked anyway. There’s no age limit on wanting reassurance that we can be loved even when we’re imperfect.
That same longing shows up in every character I write today. The different ways they mess up is what makes the stories interesting, but the “happy ever after” is that they are worthy of being loved anyway.
I Can’t With These Perfect Romance Characters
I don’t write romances where everyone has a six-pack and an emotional vocabulary from page one. Life doesn’t work that way. Real people are awkward. We avoid our feelings, say the wrong thing, flinch from honesty, want too much or not enough. But we still try. We fall in love, even when we’re not ready.
When I think about the women I write for, I picture readers who’ve been around the block. Women who’ve seen relationships fall apart. Who’ve sat in cars or showers or courtrooms, wondering what they did wrong. Who’ve walked away, or stayed too long. Who’ve carried families, debts, grief, kids, weight they never planned for—and still crave something real.
I am that woman too. When I married my husband of 34 years, I was 20 years old. We were immature and inexperienced and made every foolish mistake young lovers can. Somehow, we kept forgiving and loving anyway. We chose each other again and again. That’s the kind of love I write about: messy, evolving, stubborn, and true.
What Makes Love Possible
My characters don’t get neat arcs. They don’t fix themselves in time for the third-act confession. They wrestle with trauma, pride, loneliness, and fear. They find connection not in spite of those things, but because they face them head-on, individually and together. They mess up but are loved anyway.
When I wrote Painting Celia, I didn’t set out to write a book about healing. I wanted to tell the story of a woman who doesn’t know how to let people in, and a man who keeps pushing anyway. They start guarded, maybe even frustrating to read. But as they risk more, they begin to change. There’s heat. There’s growth. There’s a love that doesn’t ask them to be perfect. When they agree to keep trying, it feels real and scary and hopeful.
What I believe, and what I hope readers feel, is that you don’t have to earn love by being flawless. Love is always possible. Even now. Especially now.
