I think about the future a lot.
Not only the big, dramatic moments—the book deal, the wedding, the dream job, or the day I finally feel like I have officially “made it.” I think about the ordinary parts too.
What will my mornings feel like?
What kind of home will I come back to at the end of the day?
Will I have enough peace in my life to sit down, look around, and actually enjoy what I worked so hard to build?
Because I do want accomplishments. I have dreams that matter deeply to me. But more than anything, I want a life that feels good while I am living it—not only one that looks impressive from the outside.
I want a life that feels like mine.
I want writing to remain part of it.
I want to see my books published. I want to hold them in my hands, see my name on the cover, and know that the characters who once existed only in my head found their way into somebody else’s heart.
I want readers to laugh at the parts that made me laugh while writing them. I want them to get frustrated with my characters, root for their love stories, argue about who was wrong, and message me because a scene made them feel something.
I want the years I have spent writing, editing, cutting words, rewriting scenes, sending queries, waiting for responses, and wondering whether I am good enough to lead somewhere.
But even if publishing takes longer than I want, I hope I never lose the part of me that creates because I genuinely love it.
I want to keep writing stories. I want to keep building websites, designing graphics, recording podcast episodes, trying strange little ideas, and discovering new things that make me excited.
Apparently, I have hobbies now. 😂
And I want a future where I still have time for them.
I also want a career that respects me.
I do not need every workday to feel magical. I understand that work is work. But I want to be somewhere that sees me as a person, values what I contribute, trains me properly, and does not make me feel as if asking for basic support is asking for too much.
I want stability without having to sacrifice all of my peace to get it.
I want to earn enough money that every unexpected expense does not feel like a personal attack. I want to pay my bills, save money, travel sometimes, help the people I love when I can, and buy something simply because I like it without immediately calculating which necessity has to suffer for it.
Financial stability is not glamorous, but it is one of the biggest things I hope to build.
I do not need to be rich. I would simply like life to stop acting as if one surprise bill deserves its own season finale. 😂
I want a home that feels safe, comfortable, and warm.
It does not have to be enormous. I am not asking for seventeen bedrooms and a staircase that curves dramatically for no reason.
I want a space that reflects me. A place with soft lighting, things I chose because I love them, shelves for my books, room for my creative projects, and furniture that does not take seven hours to assemble.
I want to walk through the door and feel my shoulders relax.
I want laughter in that home.
I want love there too.
I hope I get married one day. I hope I find the kind of love that feels steady, safe, honest, and chosen. I do not want to wonder whether somebody really wants me. I want a relationship where we both show up, communicate, pray together, protect what we are building, and remain on the same team even when life becomes difficult.
I want romance, of course. I write romance novels. I am going to need a little razzle-dazzle. 😂
But I also want friendship. I want inside jokes, quiet nights, grocery-store trips, shared plans, and someone who knows when I need advice and when I simply need a hug.
I want a family.
I want traditions that belong to us. I want holidays, birthdays, ordinary dinners, lazy weekends, and photographs that become more meaningful as the years pass. I want a home where the people inside it know they are loved—not only because I say it, but because they can feel it in how I care for them.
I know life will not be perfect.
There will still be stressful weeks. There will be disappointment, grief, arguments, bills, uncertainty, and moments when I question what I am doing. Building the life I want does not mean creating a life where nothing ever goes wrong.
It means creating one with enough love, purpose, stability, faith, and peace to carry me through the parts that do.
I hope God remains at the center of it all.
I have learned that I can make plans, create timelines, and become deeply attached to the way I think something should happen. Then life will turn around and remind me that I am not actually in charge. Rude, but true. 😂
So while I have a clear picture of what I hope for, I also want to leave room for God to give me something different—maybe even something better than what I knew to ask for.
I am not there yet.
Some days, the distance between where I am and where I want to be feels enormous. I look at the publishing journey, my career, money, love, and all the unfinished pieces, and wonder how any of it will come together.
But then I look at what I have already started.
I wrote the books.
I launched the podcast.
I built the website.
I kept creating even when the audience was small, the answers were slow, and I was not sure where any of it would lead.
Maybe the life I’m hoping for is not waiting somewhere far away. Maybe I’m already building it.
Every page I write, every boundary I set, every application I submit, every dollar I save, every prayer I whisper, and every time I choose not to give up becomes part of the foundation.
I may not have the complete picture yet.
But I know how I want it to feel.
Creative.
Peaceful.
Stable.
Faith-filled.
Full of love.
And one day, I hope I can look around at my books, my work, my home, my family, and the life surrounding me and say, “Wow. I really built this.”
—Karinna Sorelle ♥