Read Online Gypsy Love: A Gypsy Beach Novel by Jillian Neal - Free Book Online
Authors: Jillian Neal
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uncomfortably, “I think I might have writer’s block. I can’t seem to get anything out lately. It kind of terrifies me.”
Her confession spoke volumes that never took on word. With all of the heartbreak she’d experienced lately, nothing frightened her more than not being able to write. Tapping into her passion allowed her to live, and she was currently being smothered by legalities and familial discord. He wouldn’t allow that. He’d find some way to bring her passion back to her.
“So, do the stories attack you, or do you attack the stories?”
“What?” The slight grin she gave him said she suspected he understood more about writers than she’d originally given him credit for.
“In my experience, successful writers fall into one of two categories. Either the characters attack them, wake them from their sleep, demand that their stories be told. The others go after inspiration, characters, and plots with a club. Both are successful, but you’re usually one or the other.”
Arley’s beautiful smile lit his soul. “Yeah, you’re right. In the beginning the stories attacked me, I guess. I used to make up stories for my sisters when we were growing up. I rewrote lots of books that I read to make them the way I wanted them to be. After I was published, I could hardly keep up with the characters and stories. They came on so fast. In the last year or so, I’ve had to chase more of them down. I guess I was sort of getting burned out. I don’t know.”
“It sounds like the past few months have been rough. And as much as I’m sure you appreciate advice from a lawyer who last wrote a decent sized work his Senior year of college, but have you tried to write something lately that you didn’t want to get published? I just wonder if the stories got harder to hunt when you started writing for a public instead of for yourself.”
“I never really thought of that, but the idea of writing something just for me sounds heavenly. I’m just afraid I can’t write anymore at all.”
“Hey,” John reached and cradled her face in his right hand. He gently lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “You’ve been walking through hell lately, sweetheart. Let me help you get to the other side. You’ll write again. Talent doesn’t just get up and leave. If you have it, it’s there. You just need to relax a little and let it surface again. Trust me.”
“I do.” Arley had no idea why she trusted him, or even how, but in that moment she knew that she was going to trust John for as long as he was willing to stick around. She highly suspected that it was going to end up with her having a permanently broken heart, but she simply couldn’t walk away. Arley, my beautiful baby girl, if you don’t live fully, never have a broken heart, never experience true pain and true joy, you’ll have nothing to write about. Her memory offered her a precious gift. Her father’s advice in his own voice. She closed her eyes in an extended blink, just to try to bring his face, aged with wisdom, to the forefront of her mind.
When the waitress returned with their wine and bread, they ordered. Suddenly very anxious to learn everything she could about John Rowan, she leapt back into the conversation with more interest now that they weren’t discussing her family or legal issues.
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
He shook his head. “Nah, it was just me and my mom growing up. I have a few stepbrothers and a half-sister, but I don’t really know them.”
He tried to cover a note of pain when he explained his family dynamic. Arley sensed that she shouldn’t push, but she wondered what his childhood had been like. She smiled. “This is probably terrible. I swear I’m not an evil person or anything, but sometimes I used to wish that my mom would take my two sisters and go live with one of my aunts, so it would just be me and my dad.”
She’d never admitted that to anyone, and couldn’t believe the ease at which she’d
Her confession spoke volumes that never took on word. With all of the heartbreak she’d experienced lately, nothing frightened her more than not being able to write. Tapping into her passion allowed her to live, and she was currently being smothered by legalities and familial discord. He wouldn’t allow that. He’d find some way to bring her passion back to her.
“So, do the stories attack you, or do you attack the stories?”
“What?” The slight grin she gave him said she suspected he understood more about writers than she’d originally given him credit for.
“In my experience, successful writers fall into one of two categories. Either the characters attack them, wake them from their sleep, demand that their stories be told. The others go after inspiration, characters, and plots with a club. Both are successful, but you’re usually one or the other.”
Arley’s beautiful smile lit his soul. “Yeah, you’re right. In the beginning the stories attacked me, I guess. I used to make up stories for my sisters when we were growing up. I rewrote lots of books that I read to make them the way I wanted them to be. After I was published, I could hardly keep up with the characters and stories. They came on so fast. In the last year or so, I’ve had to chase more of them down. I guess I was sort of getting burned out. I don’t know.”
“It sounds like the past few months have been rough. And as much as I’m sure you appreciate advice from a lawyer who last wrote a decent sized work his Senior year of college, but have you tried to write something lately that you didn’t want to get published? I just wonder if the stories got harder to hunt when you started writing for a public instead of for yourself.”
“I never really thought of that, but the idea of writing something just for me sounds heavenly. I’m just afraid I can’t write anymore at all.”
“Hey,” John reached and cradled her face in his right hand. He gently lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “You’ve been walking through hell lately, sweetheart. Let me help you get to the other side. You’ll write again. Talent doesn’t just get up and leave. If you have it, it’s there. You just need to relax a little and let it surface again. Trust me.”
“I do.” Arley had no idea why she trusted him, or even how, but in that moment she knew that she was going to trust John for as long as he was willing to stick around. She highly suspected that it was going to end up with her having a permanently broken heart, but she simply couldn’t walk away. Arley, my beautiful baby girl, if you don’t live fully, never have a broken heart, never experience true pain and true joy, you’ll have nothing to write about. Her memory offered her a precious gift. Her father’s advice in his own voice. She closed her eyes in an extended blink, just to try to bring his face, aged with wisdom, to the forefront of her mind.
When the waitress returned with their wine and bread, they ordered. Suddenly very anxious to learn everything she could about John Rowan, she leapt back into the conversation with more interest now that they weren’t discussing her family or legal issues.
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
He shook his head. “Nah, it was just me and my mom growing up. I have a few stepbrothers and a half-sister, but I don’t really know them.”
He tried to cover a note of pain when he explained his family dynamic. Arley sensed that she shouldn’t push, but she wondered what his childhood had been like. She smiled. “This is probably terrible. I swear I’m not an evil person or anything, but sometimes I used to wish that my mom would take my two sisters and go live with one of my aunts, so it would just be me and my dad.”
She’d never admitted that to anyone, and couldn’t believe the ease at which she’d
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