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time travel

Aiden

Two years earlier...

I close the door to my bedroom behind me and lock it. I’m done with this conversation.

I place my bowl of ice cream on my desk, change into my worn-out gray sweatpants, throw a black hoodie over my Henley, and take a seat at my desk.

I knew the conversation with my family was going to be shitty. I just figured, if I told them early enough, before SATs and college applications started, how I was struggling in my science classes, how if I kept trying to force myself into this “future doctor” role it was going to blow back in my face, that maybe they’d see I wasn’t cut out for this.

I couldn’t even get past the “So, I’m having a hard time inAP Bio...” intro. My dad lost his shit. My mom gave me the lecture of how I’ll never get into med school if I kept slacking. And I gave up trying to talk to them. At least for now. I’m sure that eventually they’ll come around to understanding. As long as I’m honest and tell them my truth.

I don’t want to be a doctor.

Will they be disappointed? Sure. But their first son is already going down that route. What’s the harm if their second takes a different direction?

I turn on my computer and open up the document I’ve been working on. I have no idea what I’m doing writing this story. I have little to no life experience with romance. But after readingPride and Prejudicefor my English class, I keep itching to read, and write, stuff like it.

This story is all over the place. I don’t know enough about historical context to make it believable. Maybe I can change it up, take some creative liberties, maybe even an alternate reality. Do people do that in romance books?

I open the search engine and type in “historical romance.” I’m initially overwhelmed by all the recommendations and options. I’m a slower reader; some things trip me up and hold me back. So I can’t possibly tackle all these titles coming up in my search.

I go back and type in “historical romance reviews.” Maybe someone much smarter than myself can point me in the direction of how to approach the story I’m writing. And giveme just the top line of books to read and why.

A couple videos that pop up catch my interest.

I select the first one:From a newly appointed HistRom girlie: How Kinsale’s “Flowers from the Storm” totally changed my wiring

The book reviewer is cute. Super cute. And I’m pretty sure she’s Korean. Interesting. But it’s the excitement with which she talks about the book that gets me hooked. She’s fucking glowing. And the things she’s saying makeme want to—no,have toread it, too.

I write down the book title and make mental note to look it up at the library.

A few hours later, my list of books to read is a page long, though I’ve starred the ones I want to prioritize first, and I’ve watched possibly everything I can find by @irene.loves.love.books. I trust her recommendations, and they make it less daunting, like I don’t have to try to read everything out there. I’ll just read whatever she reads.

It would be cool to be that excited about something, like she is about romance. That’s how I feel about writing. Even though I’m new to it. If I could take a note from Irene’s playbook, and talk that persuasively about writing to my parents, maybe they’d consider letting me try it instead of continuing to pressure me to become a doctor.

Watching Irene’s videos makes me wonder what it’s like to be that freely passionate about something, to discuss it so eloquently online, to know so certainly that you’re doingexactly what you’re supposed to be doing. Maybe I should give it a try, too.

I finally take the plunge and press the FOLLOW button. I open a new message. I don’t know what I want to say to her, but I feel like I have to reach out. I hope she doesn’t get creeped out by a guy sliding into her DMs.

I just wanted to say thanks for your videos. You’ve got me newly into the romance genre and I’m really excited about it. Keep up the good work.

Send.

“Keep up the good work”? What the fuck kind of ending is that?

I shake my head and convince myself this is why I’ll never be a writer.

And yet... I know, in my heart of hearts, it’s what I want to do.

So, [email protected]. You’ll never know it, but you’ve been an inspiration.

Keep up the good work.