I have an idea which I have built into the core of the novel I am currently working on. I am writing with the intention of planting a seed in the mind of my reader; a seed of possibility. It is a seed born of lost loves, old crushes and lovers of nights past.
Sure the sexy and steamy parts of a story will pull readers in, but there is also the lure of possibility. What draws the Constant Reader in is the fantasy of it all; things that they know could never happen but nonetheless they love getting caught up in the idea that it could. But for me there should also be a touch of the actual; some anchor in reality for the Constant Reader to be able to associate with. It is in the actual that they will find their possibility and connect to a part of the novel. It is there that the novel becomes more than just a story for them. That is when they can begin to imagine that fate will weave a web of events and chance encounters that will bring their love back to them.
I have an image of my reader in my mind and it is to her and her possibilities that I am writing. For her I will put in to the story all my best plot twists and intrigue. I will write to keep her turning pages. I want her to be so enthralled with the story that she will make moments throughout her day to get back to it. I want her to be caught within those lines until the very end.
And when she puts the book down after the last line is read, I want my seedling of possibility to sprout. I will have planted it with a kiss and a blessing for fated love. I want her to wonder if maybe, someway or somehow my heroine’s story could happen to her. Could she one day get back to the love that she lost so many years ago? Maybe he is her teenage love which burned so hot and intense it terrified her and she ran. He is the love she has wondered about for so many years. What kind of man has he become? So many unanswered questions that build on themselves and she imagines any number of scenarios of how they would meet again.
And just as those last tendrils of the daydream fades and she pulls herself back into the reality of her everyday life, she will step off a crowded train as she does every day, but on this day she will hear a familiar, “Hey Love.” And he will be there.
Ah Fate… you are you are a sneaky beast; there I go falling for your trap yet again.