One of my all time favorite romantic comedies is Serendipity. If you aren’t familiar with the film it tells the story of two people Jonathan (John Cusack) and Sara (Kate Beckinsale) who fall for each other one night in New York City. The problem is both are dating other people. Jonathan thinks the night was so magical they should leave their significant others and be together, but Sara suggests they leave it up to destiny. She writes her name and number in a book—Love in the Time of Cholera—and . . .
In the ten years I’ve been writing Waiting at Hayden’s I’ve moved several times, and each time I’ve had to find a new workspace. Sometimes that workspace has been outside the house. When I was living in Charleston, South Carolina I wrote six to eight hours a day at the two-story Starbucks on King Street (that was until the barista informed me that the cookie I ordered every single day was “bad for me.” I then started going to a place called Baked on East Bay Street—not because they had healthier . . .
I am someone who has always dreamed big. I ask a lot out of life. And yet, when I really look at my life, my favorite moments are the simplest ones: Having an interesting conversation with someone that shifts my perspective a bit. Enjoying a cocktail with friends or family on the back patio. Reading a really good book. This recently landed me in a major conundrum. If my satisfaction is indeed coming from these simple moments, should I keep dreaming big? Or would I actually be happier focusing . . .