My Writing Style
When I’m creating a new story, it’s all I think about. After I have the plot in my mind, I talk about it aloud to myself. I like to drive alone so when I’m talking to my characters, there is no one to look at me funny and ask what am I doing. That’s one reason why I like to drive alone. After I put my characters on paper, I draw a line down the middle between the hero and heroine listing who would be involved with them, what would happen and where it would happen. From this framework, I build my story.
Early morning, usually at four or five o’clock when the family is still asleep is the best time for me to think, so that’s when I get up and go to my writing room. Some mornings I’m frustrated because I want to begin to write straight away but nothing is coming. I find that if I relax, do some relaxation breathing exercise, not think so hard my thoughts will begin to flow. Once I get started, I write for a good four or five hours. When the family is up, well, it’s time to switch hats. Later, if I’m able to write another two or three pages in the evening, then that’s wonderful. Consistency is what counts. Therefore, I try to write on a daily basis. I may not be able to write as much as I did the day before but everything I do is counted toward my targeted word count.
I’ve learned though, sitting for more than two hours can be very painful. My neck and shoulders hurt. So I try to move fairly often which I sometimes find difficult to do especially if the story is flowing well, I don’t want to stop.
One of the things I’ve found with writing though, it can be very lonely and I’m trying not to isolate myself. I don’t mind quietness and solitude. In fact, I crave it especially when everything is falling into place-my characters are doing what I want them to do, but that contact of sharing I miss and am trying to do something about it.
On a whole, I enjoy writing and creating a story that hopefully romance readers can enjoy. My pleasure comes from readers who are satisfied and who want to read more or my work.
When beautiful Joanna Huntington left the law firm of Petersberg, Ryan and Cole, she never dreamed the storm would force her into the path of the car driven by Vaughn Gordon, the man whom she thought she would never see again. Coming face –to- face with Vaughn at the hospital brought back memories of their first encounter when she‘d lived in Chester. How she’d boldly asked Vaughn to kiss her after she’d sensed the attraction between them was mutual. His touch made her forget any cautious teachings she’d heard and his kisses had sent so much heat flowing through her that every cell in her body clamored for his full possession. But now she wanted to hide.
Vaughn had everything he wanted, except the woman of his dreams. Joanna had been marked off limits, not because she was biracial and he was white but because that was demanded of him. He agreed to back off…for a time. But then she disappeared. Now here she was lying before him possibly hurt.
Fate would not be so cruel to take her from him again just when he found her.
“At last,” said Vaughn’s deep voice.
Joanna was so shocked she flopped down into the nearest chair.
“Are you there, Joanna?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m here. What can I do for you?” she asked, politely while her heart raced away like an unstoppable train.
“I take it you have fully recovered from the accident?”
“Yes. And it’s not necessary for you to continue to call.”
“It’s not necessary?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I wish you wouldn’t. I think you should forget you ran into me. Forget you saw me.”
“But I can’t do that,” came the husky reply. “We’ve been over this already, Joanna. Please have dinner with me this evening.”
“Now, why would I do that when I just told you−−−?”
“Joanna, I’m picking you up this evening. I’m not playing the waiting game anymore. If you’re not ready when I get there, it will be my pleasure to personally dress you.”
Arrogant bastard! “Why don’t you go harass someone else? I’m sure that banker’s daughter wouldn’t mind. Both of you look like a nice little couple in the papers.”
“I don’t mess around with married women, which she is now. At the time, I was asked to escort her to the function. Besides, I want to be with you, no one else.”
Well, he’d told her he would not waste time, and apparently he’d meant it. He was moving forward with the relationship. Truthfully, she wanted to see him again. They had a lot of unfinished business. Some she couldn’t make go away. Having dinner with him should give her some answers.
“Joanna, is eight okay?”
“Yes, that will be fine. Where are we going?”
“Downtown Newark, to the Neck, to one of the Spanish restaurants. You liked Spanish food, as I recall.”
“You remembered,” she stated quietly, blown away that he would remember such a small thing about her after all this time.
“There’s very little I don’t remember about you, Joanna. Give my regard to your lovely mother, and I’ll see you at eight.”
She replaced the phone in its cradle thoughtfully, a deep frown creasing her brows. There was no going back now. Truth be told, she was excited and was actually looking forward to being with him. There was no denying the fact that nobody else made her heart race with such speed or sing with such joy. The time spent away from him made her body even more responsive to him. She craved his touch and felt so alive when she was with him. She didn’t want to look too deeply into why. She only knew that from the first day they’d met, something special, magical was between them. Apparently that had not changed.
As Katherine entered the apartment, she sensed a change, and she looked at Joanna seated on the chair. “Is everything all right, Joanna?” she asked anxiously.
“Yes. I’m going to dinner with Vaughn tonight.”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
Joanna understood this was no ordinary question.
About G.E. Taylor
I became hooked on reading romance novels during my teen years and my attempt at writing began in high school. All of my manuscripts were mailed under my bed. Eventually, I threw out most of them. That was painful especially since I’d hand written them first, then typed them on my old typewriter.
In college I majored in English but ended up with a Master in Social Work and a Master in Education.
Though I had these different career paths, I never gave up my passion for writing. Now I’m much more committed to it and writing full time. I’ve drawn on my years of practicing social work to give my work authenticity and realism.
I live in New Jersey with my family.
Beautiful Illogical Messes: The Art of Writing and Permanent Spring Showers