Anyone who knows me knows I am an avid romance reader. At any given moment, I’ve got a secondhand, clinch-cover paperback in my bag or my Kindle in my hand. My TBR is endless, and I swear, I have a sixth sense for overhearing when anyone within earshot even eludes to wanting to get into romance reading.

After college, I wanted to get back into reading for fun after four years of nothing but theory and academic essays. Something I mentioned to my best friend’s mom, who led me to the shelf of Regency romance novels that lined the walls of her office shelves. I went home that day with an armful of books and, unbeknownst to me, a new passion.

I tore through those four paperbacks in the span of a few days. I fell in love with Tessa Dare’s quirky leading ladies. They were aspiring archeologists, illustrators, and writers. They were witty, imperfect, and loved for who they were, not what society expected of them. Their stories resonated with me. They reignited my love of reading, and more than anything, they made me want to write. I’ve dabbled in creative writing for a long time; there are some embarrassing drafts tucked away in my middle school Google Drive that I shudder to think of. But digging into romance made me want to take all the stories I’d exiled to the confines of my daydreams and put them on paper.

When I was a child, I struggled with reading and writing. My mom, an elementary school teacher, fostered my love of reading before I even started school. I beamed with pride when adults commented on my “impressive vocabulary.” Despite this, I struggled with stumbling over my words when asked to read aloud and scored abysmally when spelling the exact words I’d been praised for knowing.

As an adult, I’d either outgrown or found workarounds for my difficulties. Still, if you’d asked me if I was a good writer, I’d likely have said I wasn’t the best, despite the consistently high marks on essays and the small following I’d gained from posting some of my creative writing online.

Romance novels made me realize I loved stories more than I feared being teased for making a mistake. I started reading books on crafting romance. I also learned about the technicalities of writing. The more I practiced, the better I got, but the more I realized that if I wanted to become a stronger writer, I’d have to do something that filled my stomach with dread.

I needed to find someone to help me edit.

I’d always been uncomfortable sharing my writing with others when it was unpolished. Writers, like all creatives, I think, are very attached to our creations, and having someone mark up your work, no matter how minor the correction may be, feels a bit like having a well-meaning aunt comment on how pretty you’d be if only you had the mole you’d been telling yourself, no one probably noticed, removed. Still, I knew facing this particular fear was a necessary growing pain.

I sought the help of some friends I’d made online who wrote similar content and asked for their assistance. I’d always associated editing with criticism. It had this air of malice in my mind, but reading their comments and corrections, I realized I had been entirely off base. My informal editors loved my work. Their notes and adjustments weren’t about criticizing my writing skills. Instead, they were proof that they saw something worth their time in my words. Something that deserved their love and labor to be the best version of itself possible.

I began to edit for them as well in exchange. Reading someone’s story before anyone else felt like a special treat. Knowing that they trusted you, not only to be a second pair of eyes that might notice any errors they missed but to work on something precious to them and treat it with respect. Editing and being edited exponentially increased my confidence as a writer. It made me realize I was more than capable of using writing in my professional life, too.

After graduating college, I worked in fundraising and development, using my writing and editing skills to create grant proposals and donation appeals for nonprofits. In my spare time, I continued to read voraciously. I often joked that if I ever went back to school, I’d find a way to make my master’s degree about romance novels.

After two difficult years and some significant life changes, I left the nonprofit world. When I first started, I was so passionate and fulfilled by my work, but after a few back-to-back bad experiences, that passion had dwindled. I knew I was done, but what was next?

I thought about what it was that sparked joy in my life. The answer was, of course, books.

I got a weekend job at my favorite bookshop and gathered as much information on getting into the publishing industry as possible. I enrolled in a copyediting course to strengthen my existing skills. I started writing again after a long period of burnout. Most importantly, I started believing in myself in a way I hadn’t in a very long time.

To say pivoting professions after working in a field I had so firmly woven into my identity has been scary is an understatement. Despite my free-spirited appearance, I love structure and stability more than most. The unknown has always been particularly difficult for me, but when I think of the leading ladies in those first few Tessa Dare books — Of Pandora and Feyre, Tess Owens, Erika Greene, all the brave women who grace the pages of my favorite books and the real-life women who created them, something inside me shifts.

I am reminded of going to my best friend’s house just weeks after I took home that fateful stack of paperbacks and the hours we spent talking about the books and screenplays we dreamed of writing one day, and suddenly, being brave doesn't feel so impossible anymore.