Behind the Pages of I Love You, Sunday Sunset
- Justine Castellon
- May 9
- 7 min read
Unveiling the Heart of the Story
When I began writing I Love You, Sunday Sunset, I had no idea I was about to step into some of my life’s most challenging but rewarding writing moments. This sequel wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t in the plan. My co-author Mike Dee and I had poured everything into creating Gnight Sara / ‘Night Heck, believing it stood firmly on its own as a one-time project. But plans have a funny way of changing.
Sara’s story lingered, refusing to fade away, her presence a quiet but persistent echo. Readers weren’t ready to say goodbye either– they had questions—burning ones. They wanted to know what happened to Sara and Heck and see the ripples their love had left behind. But stepping back into that world felt heavier and more complex this time. Without Mike, I couldn’t bring Heck’s character back to life in the way it deserved. Heck wasn’t just a character; he was Mike’s voice. We had built him together, piece by piece, breathing our shared perspectives into his soul. Tackling his story alone felt like trying to capture light in a bottle. Only Mike could give Heck the depth and nuance he deserved. Without him, I wasn’t just missing a co-writer—I was missing half of the heartbeat that had shaped Heck’s world.
But Mike couldn’t write this time. So, the story would be told, but from a single perspective: Sara’s. And so began the ultimate challenge of continuing without him and crafting something as vibrant, as heart-stirring, as the original.
Searching for Steven
Frances Amper-Sales, my book editor and unwavering writing compass, once told me, “If you’re putting Heck on the sidelines of the story, the next male protagonist better be just as captivating, if not more.” Her words stayed with me, equal parts inspiration and weight. How could anyone measure up to Heck? He wasn’t just a character but a presence that lingered, firmly rooted in readers’ hearts. They knew his voice, felt his charm, and carried the depth of his story with them. Creating someone who could rival that felt impossible. But impossible has its own spark, doesn’t it? A tantalizing dare that dares you to dream bigger.
I dove deeper, allowing the challenge to shape the narrative in unexpected ways. I focused on Sara, threading her story with richer layers and bringing new life to familiar faces like Helen Archibald and Veronica Sung. And still, the question tugged at me. If I were to create someone new, someone who could stand against the memory of Heck, he couldn’t be a mirror. He had to disrupt the rhythm, adding his own melody entirely. He had to be someone unexpected, someone deeply tied to the world but shaped differently by it.
That’s how I found my way to the idea of a musician. The contrast between Heck’s steady, grounded energy and an artist’s raw, untamed soul seemed to create the perfect tension. But it didn’t take long to realize I was wading into waters I didn’t understand. Music wasn’t just a career or a backdrop; it was an entire existence, a language I didn’t yet speak. To bring it to life with the sincerity the story deserved, I couldn’t just imagine it—I had to live it. Authenticity wasn’t just a goal; it was my anchor, my guiding principle. It’s what had always made Sara and Heck feel real, and it was what this new character needed to be more than an echo in the space Heck left behind.
And then, as if handed to me by fate itself, Kowboy Santos appeared. I didn’t know who he was at first. His name popped up on my Bluesky feed, a fellow dog lover posting about his adorable Mini Schnauzer, Ziggy. Our interaction began with a lighthearted exchange about our pets, but soon, our conversation threads began to weave into something unexpected. Music.
At the time, I’d been immersing myself in Ben Harper’s Burn One Down, the song playing on repeat as I wrestled with capturing the intricate layers of I Love You, Sunday Sunset. It was a soundtrack to my struggle, a companion to my process. Then I saw Kowboy’s cover version, and it floored me. His raw, soulful rendition echoed with a depth and truth that felt visceral. This guy wasn’t just good; he was amazing!
It didn’t take long for my husband to connect the dots. “You know who he is, right?” he said, casually revealing that Kowboy was the son of Sampaguita, a legendary figure in Pinoy rock. Suddenly, it all made sense. Kowboy wasn’t just playing music; he was living it, breathing it, embodying it. He carried a legacy, yes, but also a singularity, a rhythm that was entirely his own. And in that moment, I knew I’d found the key to unlocking Steven’s voice, his essence, his heartbeat. Kowboy wasn’t just inspiration; he was the soul I needed to understand the world I sought to write.
What followed was a collaboration that was as much discovery as it was creation. Kowboy didn’t just help me shape Steven; he became Steven. Through him, I found the character’s rhythm, voice, and truth. He shared his life in vivid pieces, revealing what it really means to live and breathe through music. He fact-checked my scenes, shattered my misconceptions, and invited me to performances where music wasn’t just heard and felt in your chest like waves hitting the shore. From the glow of stage lights to the hum of a plucked guitar string, each detail found its way into Steven’s story.
Yet, there was more to Steven than could fit into Sara’s first-person perspective. His backstory, his pain, and his roots ran too deep. While writing the manuscript, I couldn’t help but work on a side project that became The Runaway Prince, a short story that explores Steven’s childhood and why he existed so far from Sara’s world. It became a bridge between the two novels, layering the sequel with an emotional gravity I could never have achieved otherwise.
Walking in Sara’s Shoes
Writing from Sara’s perspective felt like slipping into a familiar, yet deeply personal, space. Her character had humble beginnings, born during the whirlwind of crafting the short story that inspired the first novel. Mike and I were in a rush, writing more for the thrill of it than with any grand plan in mind. Back then, I hadn’t given much thought to intricacies or depth—I wasn’t focused on the art of character building. But somehow, in that hurried creation, Sara became a quiet reflection of me.
Her job as a copywriter mirrored my own early career, her ambition to someday write in a Parisian café was a dream I had carried for years, and her love for words, in all their messy, beautiful forms, echoed my own. I had unknowingly splintered pieces of my younger self and infused them into Sara’s soul.
When I wrote about Sara chasing her dreams in Paris, I flew to the city myself, tracing her steps, dreaming her dreams, inhabiting her world. Writing on the café terrace, sipping espresso as the hum of Parisian life surrounded me, was a surreal, grounding experience. I imagined Sara there, her heart as wild and restless as the city itself.
And now, returning to her and seeing how her story had grown and changed, it felt less like writing fiction and more like rediscovering fragments of who I once was.
More Than a Love Story
When a producer picked up and acquired Gnight Sara / ‘Night Heck for a potential TV series adaptation, they reimagined the title as G'night Sara!, centering the story on her. At first, I felt a pang of disappointment. It felt like Heck, such a pivotal character, had been quietly set aside. But as I sat with it, I began to see the truth that had been hiding in plain sight. This isn’t Heck’s story. It’s Sara’s. And writing the sequel only deepened that realization.
This isn’t just a tale of love between two people. At its core, I Love You, Sunday Sunset isn’t just about romance. It’s about survival. It’s about healing from the cruel curveballs life throws our way. Readers often look for happily-ever-afters, but real life isn’t so simple. It’s messy, unpredictable. There are moments when you think you’ve finally caught your breath, only for another wave to pull you under. It’s about coming to terms with pain, with growing up, and with understanding that not all love takes the shape of romance. That’s what Sara’s story represents—not just love, but loss, resilience, forgiveness, and growth.
This novel taught me that love comes in many forms—not all of them romantic. Some of the deepest bonds we hold are with those who aren’t bound to us by blood. Some of the most surprising connections come where we least expect them, and the unexpected compassion that can grow for someone we once resented. And learning to love someone we once thought we could never forgive—that might just be the greatest challenge of all. Most of all, the self-love that comes with healing and finally letting go.
Finding the Sunset
The title I Love You, Sunday Sunset was born from one of Heck’s poems in the first novel, a quiet beacon of meaning beyond its words. Sara had published it in the New York Times, a final gift to Heck before she left for Paris. But its most unforgettable moment came in that bustling café, Tribeca Trickle, where their love lingered in the soft glow of lights from those lamp posts. It was one of their saddest meetings, love hanging heavy in the air like the last hues of a fading sunset.
Returning to that poem now, its meaning has shifted. What was once a symbol of aching love now hums with something deeper: an ode to the beauty of letting go, a promise that in moments of pain, there are slivers of hope hiding in the light.
Writing this sequel was anything but easy. Every page felt like walking a tightrope between memory and discovery. Yet it was profoundly necessary. What began as a story about love between two people grew into something far greater. It became an exploration of resilience, of the quiet strength that rises from being knocked down. It became a story of standing tall through life’s fiercest storms, finding stillness between crashing waves, and rediscovering ourselves—even if just fragments—in the orange glow of a setting sun.
This isn’t purely a love story anymore. It’s for anyone who’s weathered heartbreak, for anyone who’s searched for beauty in chaos, and for anyone brave enough to believe that even as the sun dips below the horizon, a new light will always rise.
Justine Castellon is a brand strategist with an innate ability to weave compelling narratives. She seamlessly blends her professional insight with her passion for literature. She writes about her journey as a writer in between poetry and short stories. She is the author of three novels –– Four Seasons, The Last Snowfall, and Gnight Sara / Night Heck.
(Twitter/X @justcastellon)
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