Write me into love

The storm outside was both disquieting and comforting at the same time. The rain falling on the roof like metal dropping sounded loud but yet normal. The distant rumble of thunder over the lake was not ominous or foreboding but still seemed to quell the urge to go outside but to choose the security of the house instead. LaDonna decided that she preferred the comfort of her lounge chair and a good book.

Lost deep within the story of tumultuous love, the young woman drew inspiration from the vivid details of the hero and heroine's love. Writing romance was not an easy job, LaDonna decided but if it was done right, then it was a rewarding one. She lived, breathed and savored romance novels...not only for the unique flavor of them but for the financial rewards that could be gained from them.

She had studied hard to learn the proper techniques that went into preparing these types of novels. She had laid aside attempt after attempt until just recently she had hit upon a brilliant idea and the work had gone well. She was certain that success was at hand.

There was only one problem...she had never really been in love.

She had the normal crushes, the normal relationships, (though not really that many) but not once had she ever really been in love. Not that she really expected the love that were written into these novels. Passion, wealth and beauty that exploded on page after page of the books. Strife, emotions, and dreams to be addressed and in the end, the glorious fruition of love fulfilled. What she expected was real love! Yet she had yet to experience it!

She wondered if she could be Pygmalion and sculpt her own love into the form of the perfect man? She knew exactly how he would look, how he would act, and how he would be but what good was a paper hero? Could she love an illusion?

She knew enough about relationships to know that no man or woman was as perfect as the books sometimes seemed to portray but still they had to exist, didn't they? All she had now was the idea, the desire, the need and the want to lose herself into her own writing and the writings of others.

Until she found him or he found her, she would have to settle for what she had but even that was not bad. She still had the expectation and the hope.

And with that thought, she said out loud to herself.

"Write me into love."

Freewind