I don’t know why, but Florence Welch has the uncanny ability to put whichever emotions I’m feeling into flawless words or epic songs. She’s written something for every appropriate occasion. This poem from Useless Magic makes me think of myself and my writing. I tend to lean toward the strange and supernatural in my stories, the unusual and the dark. I enjoy crafting and creating myths and fairy tales. No matter how many times I tell myself not to focus on one genre, most of the fiction I write belongs to the worlds of science fiction and fantasy. I can’t help myself. I guess I feel the need to bend reality and shape it to my own specifications. The magic seeps in whether I want it to or not. Expressing the idea of love is always the ultimate goal, but I don’t pretend to understand it. My tales are like starlight and daydreams. My stories are a representation of hope, the way I think the universe should exist, the way I wish it to be.