Why I Write About Love

by Gwen Phoenix

It begins with a quiet moment.

Two people standing inches apart, unsure what to say. A look that lingers a second too long. The weight of something unspoken hanging between them. I’ve always been drawn to those small, charged spaces—where hearts shift without a single word being said.

That’s where love lives for me. Not in grand declarations, but in the stillness. In the questions. In the ache.

I didn’t choose to write love stories because I thought it would be easy. I write them because they’re human. Because love is where we are most ourselves—unguarded, afraid, brave, hopeful. It’s where we break, and where we begin again.

Not all of my stories look the same. Some are tender, some a little messy, some wrapped in longing or second chances or slow healing. I write all kinds of love—because love itself shows up in so many ways. Sometimes it knocks you off your feet. Other times, it quietly grows in the background, until suddenly, it’s everything.

But always, I’m writing toward feeling.

I want my stories to stir something deep. To remind you of your first heartbreak, your biggest leap of faith, the one that got away—or the one who stayed. I want them to feel like sitting by a window on a rainy day, heart full of memory and hope, not quite knowing what comes next, but wanting to believe it’s something good.

I write for the reader who’s ever felt too much,
who’s carried love quietly,
who’s been afraid to hope—but hoped anyway.

Maybe you've been there. Maybe you’re there now.

Maybe you’ve loved someone from across a room and never said a word.
Maybe you've said goodbye and felt it in your bones.
Maybe you’ve found love in the most unexpected place—and part of you still can’t believe it’s real.

These are the stories I want to tell.

Not perfect stories. Not easy ones. But honest ones. Stories about love in all its forms—joyful, painful, complicated, healing. Because even when it hurts, even when it leaves, love always changes us.

And I think that’s worth writing about.

So if you’ve ever seen yourself in a story and felt less alone,
If you’ve stayed up too late with your heart in your throat,
If you believe that love—real, messy, beautiful love—is still out there—

Then I’m writing for you.

Thank you for being here.
For feeling deeply. For turning the page. For holding space for love, even when it aches.
—Gwen