Lily Writes

It’s a beautiful June day in Michigan.

The kind that starts in the fifties, climbs toward eighty, and practically begs you to spend time outside. So that’s where I am.

Writing.

There are plein air painters. I’m a plein air writer.

Dr. Qing Li writes about the benefits of Forest Bathing—the idea that spending time among trees reduces stress, boosts mood, and provides a surprising number of health benefits. Whether all of the science is settled or not, I’m a believer.

My favorite color is green.

Not just any green, though.

That luminous yellow-green that appears when sunlight filters through fresh leaves. The kind that makes the entire world feel alive.

I didn’t realize how much I depend on that daily dose of nature until last week when I spent three days inside a hospital.

Don’t panic.

It wasn’t me.

It was my partner.

What started as a routine stress test ended with an ambulance ride and an unexpected stay in the hospital. Not your average Wednesday.

For three days I couldn’t write. Couldn’t paint. Couldn’t do much of anything except wait.

Hospital time is its own time zone. Minutes stretch. Hours disappear. Everything revolves around tests, specialists, monitors, and updates.

But writers are always working, even when we’re not writing.

We observe.

And believe me, I collected enough story material to fill several notebooks.

It started when my partner lost his memory. Not all of it. He knew who I was. But almost nothing else. For heaven’s sake, it’s so cliché, such a well-worn romance trope. That doesn’t happen in real life.

Except apparently it does.

The strangest part wasn’t the missing memories. It was the inability to create new ones.

I would explain to him why he was having a stress test. Explain why an ambulance was coming. Explain that it wasn’t a stroke. (Not a doctor, but I know the signs and he had none of them.) Then thirty seconds later he’d ask the same questions again. Completely unaware we’d already had the conversation.

Unnerving?

Very.

Future story material?

Absolutely.

Thankfully, his memory returned on the way to the hospital, piece by piece. There are still health issues being sorted out, but he’s doing well now and fully understands what’s happening.

Still. I’ve added “Transient Global Amnesia” to my growing collection of fascinating things I never expected to learn firsthand.

Writers are terrible people that way.

We’re relieved our loved ones are okay.

And simultaneously making notes.

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Writing Update

While life was throwing plot twists at me, writing continued moving forward.

Love Marks—Tink and Rodney’s story—went through two major rewrites from the original draft.

This one surprised me.

It’s darker than most of the Pink Matchmakers books, packed with mystery, dead bodies, obsession, and just enough paranormal elements to keep readers wondering what’s real.

Rodney is one of my favorite hero types: dangerous, competent, morally gray, and completely devoted once he falls. The kind of man who would absolutely burn down the world for the woman he loves.

The book also introduces several new side characters who have already started demanding their own stories.

Love Marks is now with the proofreaders.

Which means my attention has shifted elsewhere.

Again.

Yes, I’m writing two books at the same time. No, I don’t know how to stop. The stories are happening concurrently in the timeline, and honestly, that’s just how my brain works. I invite all the characters to dinner and let them talk.

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Love Oops

One of those conversations belongs to Love Oops.

An MM hurt/comfort romance I’ve wanted to write for quite a while.

I’ve been reading heavily in the trope lately and absolutely love the emotional roller coaster it provides. The vulnerability. The healing. The slow rebuilding of trust.

Writing my own version has been incredibly rewarding.

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Love Wins

The other story currently demanding attention is Love Wins. Dory’s story. Finally.

Poor Dory hasn’t had a date in years. Unless you count the disastrous setup with a family friend’s son. She doesn’t.

While juggling Pink Match, the B&B, and approximately seventeen other responsibilities, her family has decided it’s time she found someone. The pressure reaches peak levels when a family reunion collides with her parents’ fiftieth anniversary celebration.

The event?

Ten days.

On a cruise ship.

With her entire family.

No escape.

No hiding.

No pretending she didn’t hear the questions. “Are you seeing anyone?”  “Are you bringing someone?”  “When are you getting married?”

Enter Bodi.

Former linebacker. Current Dakota House employee. Six-foot-four golden retriever in human form. He’s been trying to get Dory’s attention for two years. His efforts are sweet. Persistent. Adorable.

Dory barely remembers his name.

Which would be heartbreaking if Bodi weren’t so stubbornly optimistic.

When the opportunity arrives for him to pretend to be her boyfriend for ten days on a cruise ship? He’s all in.

Ten days to make her notice him.

Ten days to make her laugh.

Ten days to convince her that maybe fate isn’t hiding somewhere in the future.

Maybe she’s already standing right in front of him.

And Dory? That’s the problem. Because she has noticed him. And she knows she’s in trouble.

She’s been waiting for her soulmate. But fate is taking its sweet time.

And the man standing in front of her?

She could fall for him far too easily.

Last week reminded me that reality is often stranger than fiction.

I would never have believed a man could forget everything except me and then forget every conversation thirty seconds after having it.

Yet there we were.

Life handed me a new story, a new medical condition to research, and a renewed appreciation for ordinary days.

Today I’m back outside beneath the trees, writing about soulmates, fake boyfriends, obsessed heroes, and happily-ever-afters.

Which feels exactly right.

After all, if life is going to keep handing me plot twists, the least I can do is write more happy endings.