I don’t believe in soul mates. I used to, when I was young and stupid. Now that I’m old and stupid, I know better. The idea that there’s one person – one perfect person who will love your quirks, embrace your flaws, and provide perfect balance to your otherwise topsy turvy life – in a world of like 7 billion people is too ridiculous to be true. Not to mention mean spirited on the universe’s part. I prefer to think there’s a team of lets say like 5000 or so people with whom you could, under the right circumstances, have a happy life. A different happy life with each of them.
Of course that’s not what I write about. Soul mates are the bread and butter of the genre. They’re what every romance novel I’ve ever read – whether the heroine spent her time twirling a parasol or swinging a sword – was ultimately about. In Inbetween, Tab Bennett, the heroine, has a soul mate (or Homecoming as the elvish call it). They belong together. Undeniably. Everlasting.
Now all I have to do is figure out how to get them to their happy ending.