Aspire
as·pire
/əˈspī(ə)r/
verb
direct one's hopes or ambitions toward achieving something
“I aspire to make my second novel better than Flygirl.”
Writing a novel is hard. Writing two novels is ridiculously hard, especially when the first one is successful.
Flygirl was a debut novel from an unknown, first-time author. I had no idea if anyone I didn’t know, or anyone within three degrees of my supporters and contacts, would ever read it.
But read it they did. And they wrote reviews, good ones. I bow my head in gratitude over some of the positive comments readers have made about their experience with my work.
“So,” I said to myself, “make the next one even better.” ‘Cause that’s how I roll—I mean really, if I don’t pressure myself to live up to my own ridiculously high standards, no one else will.
Such was my burden as I wrote my new novel, Angel Flight. I stressed over this book in ways I never did over Flygirl.
Angel Flight takes Tris Miles’s story to places I didn’t even think it could go. With her career back on track, she’s plagued with insecurity over a new relationship she doesn’t completely trust. Tris struggles to navigate her inner world with the help of a therapist she can’t admit to seeing, or else put her flying career in jeopardy. And the man she’s falling in love with has secrets that may ultimately end both of their lives.
Every paragraph, every sentence, every single word of Angel Flight is intended to bring the reader even closer to the sometimes heart-pumping, occasionally wearying, but always fascinating world Tris and her friends, colleagues and passengers inhabit. And just like Flygirl, it might very well take you on a journey to someplace you’ve never been before.
Angel Flight. Coming September 2020.
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