The books I would write would be vast yet few in number.
The books I would write would be star heroines and not heroes.
The books I would write would feature women who appear normal on the surface and yet underneath it all are quite extraordinary.
The books I would write would be about lost, devastation and sadness and yet also about the hope beneath it all.
The books I would write would be about places here on Earth and also about those places we can only dream about.
The books I would write would also feature a bit of my character.
The books I would write would be about all those things that happen everyday and all those things that appear to be coincidental.
The books I would write would show me my character and lead me to the ends of the Earth.
The books I would write would teach me about the people I know and about the people I’ve yet to meet.
The intrepid were told to write the first paragraph of thier book and since I feel intrepid, I have written it here.
The waves flow onto the shore and she stares into the distance watching the ocean's mood.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way when we decided to move here and yet now so much has happened that can’t be taken back,” she thinks.
She calmly watches the waves begin their encroachment on the shore. Crabs and other such creatures scamper into the waves. The birds caw and dip into the ocean. The waves continue their assault on the beach. Back and forth, the ocean flows and tears begin flowing down her face.
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