I always knew that I would write this story. As I was penning Remember Our Love, before one word of To Build a Vow made it into the document, I knew that Trisha’s story was coming and that it would be important. When I finally sat down to write Build, I cried just as hard during Trisha’s reading as I did during the gas station scene. It meant just that much to me. Surely, I would have no problem penning her journey to love.
Well, I was wrong. I created a playlist in 2018 and told myself that I needed to let the story marinate—that I didn’t want to put any old thing out—and then I would write it. The truth is that I was cowering. Writing polyamory didn’t scare me; the werewolves didn’t scare me; the demons didn’t scare me, but the idea of writing a story of two Black women falling in love and staying there on purpose terrified me. I was petrified with fear to write their fluffy, low-angst, feel-good love story because I believed I’d be telling on myself.
Oftentimes, fear can make us irrational and mine made me shove a really great story into the back of my closet (pun absolutely intended) because I didn’t want people to read it and possibly see something that I hadn’t taken serious notice of once during the first twenty-plus years of my thirty-plus life. The thing about being a writer is that, when characters decide they had something to say, they will not let you rest until you hear them out. Trisha and Xeno invaded my dreams and waking thoughts until I had to get my shit together and do what needed to be done. And now, here we are.
I first want to thank Sha for asking me if I “liked girls” without judgment or censure. For assuring me that it was okay if I did. For giving me the space to figure things out.
Coco, for not batting an eye when I told her that I was just as attracted to women as I was to men and maybekindasorta had been for a long time. For breaking down my natal chart and basically telling me that being queer was a part of my astrological makeup.
Mama, for loving me the same way, regardless.
Nic, for threatening to beat my ass for questioning if this book was good enough.
My group of writerly homegirls, who are so fucking talented and amazing and hilarious, and push me to create even when I second—and third—guess myself.
And finally, I thank you, Reader, for being here. For seeing a stud—a Black butch—on the cover and still giving this book a try. For having an open mind and an open heart. For trusting me to tell a good story. Thank you.
—Chencia