Memorial Day and My Dad

My father was a Vietnam Veteran. Like many who served during this era, he was ambivalent about his service and was conflicted about war in general. To be honest he didn’t really speak of his time in the army. Almost all that I know about his time in Vietnam came from pictures of a cute younger version of my dad and short snippets that I heard from my mother and grandmother. I learned he was never in combat, but I took greater pride when my grandmother explained that my dad was too smart to be on the front lines, instead he worked with confidential documents. Unfortunately, I never did find out some of our country’s secrets from him J

This is my first Memorial Day without my dad. And just as we think about those men and women who gave their lives for their country on this day, I can’t help but think of my dad. I hope everyone has a wonderful Memorial Day weekend and between barbeques and parties with friends, you give a thought to those important to you, whether they served in the military or not, whether they have passed away or are still with you.

Tattoo My Heart, or My Sleeve

I don’t know if it is a mid-life crisis or what, but I want a tattoo. No, I’m not turning 40 (been there, done that) or getting divorced (I hope not) but I do have the urge to shake things up. I’m a pretty mundane person but I do have an alterna streak that runs through me and every couple of years the craving to do something different takes over. At 24 I found bellydancing, at 29 I got my nosed pierced, by 35 I got my first tattoo and now I want a third.

I love tattoos. I love their artistry, I love their sexiness, and I love how they can be unexpected and so out of the box. Okay, I love how they make me feel like a bad-ass. So I’ve been thinking of getting another one. I was a good girl when I got my first two tattoos, I made sure they were in places they couldn’t be seen unless I wanted them to be. Now I want one in a more visible spot, one I can admire on a daily basis. The problem is, of course, my 9-5. But I’m so tempted. As I get older the more I appreciate the idea that life is too short and that you have do what makes you happy. A visible tattoo would make my simple soul happy. And the young'uns are making it hard to resist temptation. They are getting more and more obvious tattoos, jobs be damned. In many ways they are winning. I see tattoos while being served in restaurants, in my doctors’ offices, and barely peaking from suits. Even my new boss has a visible tattoo. I know, it shocked the shit out of me. And again the temptation rears its ugly head.

Perhaps I need to write a bad-ass character with lots of tattoos everywhere. I would give my newest love interest Eli tons of tats, but she’s a professional and can’t have any visible ones either, drat. Oh well, maybe the hero of my next book. Meanwhile I’m still debating whether I should be good or just enjoy being bad—in long sleeves at work J

Mom, What's Not To Love?

Drip, drop

Rain flip flops

Pitter, patter

Skitter, scatter

Plops, plops, plops

Behold the first poem I ever wrote. I was either in the second or third grade. After reading it, my mother thought I was a writing genius. I kid you not. Now, for an elementary kid’s class assignment, it wasn’t bad. But the reason mother loved it so was because I wrote it. She was being supportive of me, and hopeful that her enthusiasm might turn into my promise. My mom’s faith in me is one of the reasons I am a writer today.

 When I was thirteen my mother and I were in a drugstore where I spied a book that caught my attention and wouldn’t let go. A hard bodied blond man on the cover clutching a beautiful scantily dressed female is definitely an eye opener for a teen. I saw that book and had to have it. My mother was used to me asking her to buy a book every week. I suppose she’d rather spend her money on reading materials than clothes or whatever else teens desired. However, this was the first time I had asked her for a bodice ripper. Jane Austen this was not. And yet with almost no hesitation, she put it on the counter with the rest of her purchases. Captive Caress (yes, she bought me a book titled Captive Caress) opened my eyes to romance novels and I haven’t looked back since. It is a love that has lasted me for decades and for that I must thank my mother.

Seymore’s belief that I could do anything (including write) and her willingness to indulge me in a new passion (Captive Caress wasn’t the last romance novel she bought me, as you can guess) has molded me into the writer I am today. On this Mother’s Day I’d like to thank my mother for being a great person and an even better mom. Hopefully she’s reading this blog post and smiling down on me.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the moms out there, you deserve every accolade you receive!

All About Mila

 

This week I had the pleasure of being interviewed by contemporary and paranormal author Constance Phillips. Stop by her blog and learn a little more about me and some great romance writers at www.contancephillips.com .



Living an Authentic Life

Like a lot of people, for weeks I have been waiting with baited breath to see the Bruce Jenner interview with Diane Sawyer. On a Friday night I’m more likely to be conked out on my couch than I am watching something on the boob tube, but I made sure I was awake at nine last Friday to catch all of the juicy details.

I know I’m aging myself, but when I was a child Bruce Jenner was the epitome of masculinity and what it meant to be an American hero. I look at pictures of him back in his Olympic prime and it is hard to deny that the man was fine as hell. I mean the muscles alone can make your knees weak. So to think, that whole time he wasn’t living the life he wanted is incredible, and incredibly sad. As humans we only have a short time to make the most of our lives. To spend the majority of it wearing a mask for fear of what people might say and do is disheartening. We should all be able to live the lives we wish, whether that means we seem odd to others or not.

In the beginning of my novella The Love She Wants, neither Kayla nor Tommie is living an authentic life because of their concerns of living the way others think is right. I won’t spoil the story for you if you haven’t read it yet, but from my above comments you can probably speculate about how it might turn out. As a matter of fact, my latest piece that I’m working on now also deals with living an authentic life. Hmm, I wonder what my subconscious is trying to tell me? But I digress, here’s to Bruce Jenner and to living the life you’ve always wanted.  

Good Bye Gilbert

Growing up, Anne of Green Gables was my favorite book/series, second only to Little Women. I loved learning about life in late 1800's/turn of the century Prince Edward Island and the crazy mishaps and adventures of Anne Shirley. I even nicknamed one of my friends Anne-girl in honor of Anne Shirley. To be fair, my friend was also a redhead named Anne, so it wasn’t much of a stretch.

I fell in love with the Green Gables series before I found bodice rippers, but without a doubt they satisfied my preteen craving for romance. Gilbert was the perfect boy next door who swept Anne off her feet and me along with her. And I loved the movies almost as much as I loved the books. Just thinking about them (the books and the movies) brings a smile to my face, and warm memories of my childhood coming flooding back to me. That series helped foster my love of reading and wanting to be a writer. So, it is no surprise that I am devastated that the actor Jonathan Crombie, who played Gilbert in the movies, has passed away. Hearing about his death is like hearing about an old friend passing away, which in some ways he was. It is very much a cliché to say rest in peace, so instead I’ll hope Jonathan/Gilbert is in a better place with Marilla, Matthew and Ruby because they are forever intertwined in my heart.

Lovin' What You Do

I was walking through a big box store this weekend when I saw a pillow with the words “do what you love, love what you do” embroidered on the front. Now I’ve heard the statement before, but for some reason it seemed to get me to thinking about if I’m living my life this way. This is probably because I’m of a certain age. I’m no longer uber young, but I still have more than twenty years of work ahead of me before I can retire from my day job. Plus, I’d been having heart to heart conversations recently with a friend about careers and “finding your bliss”. M. is also of that certain age. She’s starting to wonder if she should stick with her job, though she’s feeling blah about it, or try to find something doing what she loves and face the uncertainty of a new work life. Let’s all agree that doing what you love might not pay the bills. And we all have bills, big ones.

 I like my 9 to 5 job just fine, but I can’t say that I love it. I do however love writing. Okay, that is a bit of an untruth. There is an adage that authors don’t love writing, we love having written, and in my case this is doubly true. I find my favorite part of being a writer isn’t putting words on the page, but creating characters and scenarios and situations in my head. I love developing a love story; however, getting it out of my head and onto the page is a whole other story (no pun intended). But at least I get to do what I love. And I certainly love what I do. Even if I never sell another story, that won’t prevent me from coming up with people who are perfect for each other, or dreaming of how they meet and fall in love. I may never be able to do what I love to pay all of my bills, but I can certainly love do what I love to feed my soul. I hope you too are doing what you love as much as you can to feed your soul.