browsing through row upon row of new fiction, i am drawn by alluring covers - a sillouhette of a woman's face, lips parted, another black and white picture of a woman bent over to wash her hair with a hose. i wonder, how can my book compete? what can i hope to offer the reader that these sexy, evocative, and soulful titles can't?
maybe it doesn't matter. i know now why i want to write. i want to create magic, to transport the reader to a world of my imagining. this is also why, try as i might, i can't get away from fantasy fiction. i've tried writing down "straight" story lines, but i can't help it. fantasy weaves its way in. i might as well embrace it.
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