Brand new to The Romance Troupe I thought my first blog post should be a short introduction about who I am. Except I really, really hate trying to explain myself. Words are my thing. I love to read them. I love to write them. Unless it is to talk about me, summarize my novel, or market me. I am terrible at this. If anyone can figure out how this compiles into a professional look for my Amazon page feel free to tell me in the comments.
So I started reading before I started school. I’ll just say it now – I’m a daddy’s girl. He made index flash cards and taught his first born to read while she was running around in Wonder Woman underoo’s. (Let’s not talk about the pictorial evidence of this on my Facebook page, thanks!) That was one of the most valuable things my dad gave me early in life. My love for books has kept me in constant entertainment with good company.
Around eight years old I sat down deciding to put my pen to paper. I was so proud of my little Princess story. In Jr High, I met a fellow student who was very interested in writing. I was out of my element. I mean, I’m still reading Christopher Pike and she’s starting a story, handing to me to finish and the words on that page were forbidden secrets. She was writing romance very early so I gave it my best shot. Until mom found one of the stories and put my romance writing career on hold. I had to explain it wasn’t even me that had written the best parts, I just read them! She explained those weren’t the “best” parts at all. Instead, I created my own creative outlet. I didn’t diary like a normal teenager. I bled poetry onto paper. It started when my family was devastated by the loss of my four year old cousin. I still have that book, full of all my teenage pain with a side of angst.
I never had an English teacher that doubted for one moment I would someday be a published writer. Many of them gave me extra help on my creative writing papers because of the potential they saw. There was one who made a lasting impression though. My first year and only year of college, the English teacher was bored with the lot of us. He came in, gave us a writing assignment due in a week then dismissed us. I was so nervous doing one of the first assignments. I had seen a few poor examples get read aloud already. Only, passing them back his eyes lit up when he handed me mine. It was full of excellent comments. He pointed out all the things I’d done right. I was on cloud nine.
Then I got a different teacher second semester. He was not impressed by my fiction inclined mind. He wanted non fiction. I am terrible at dealing with this genre. I read it very rarely. I don’t like the truth. I like to escape from it. I don’t watch the news with bloody terrorist attack coverage; I pick up a book and read about fluffy unicorns eating cotton candy. My term paper was full of so many red marks, I cried. My boyfriend at the time went on the defense. He green marked half the red marks telling the teacher they were wrong. Needless, to say I was not getting an A on that final. They went back and forth a few times. Looking back it is pretty funny now. At one point they had barbs like Asshat – Assclown going back and forth on my paper.
So I learned I didn’t know it all. I am terrible at following proper rules. I still learn more about this everyday. My husband supported me writing my first novel, though he has never read any of them until recently. I think he was getting even with me for borrowing his favorite book Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, saying I loved it when I never read it, and not returning it until he married me and we conjoined the bookshelf.
As a mom, I get to watch my son take the awesome journey of learning about his own writing voice. He has his mother’s hang ups. I assign him non fiction, and he spins fiction into it every time. He doesn’t want to be a writer. He tells me this constantly, and I believe him. Who says I want to shed blood, tears, heart, and soul on paper all the time for such a world that can tear my heart in half with a swipe of their review pen? On the other hand, the writer’s voice calls him. The other night he came in from a baseball game and couldn’t sleep until he got the voices out of his head onto paper.
I shared his story on my Facebook page. It might not win an award but he can’t deny the voice is already whispering in his ear. The blood is already starting to drip onto the page. I can’t wait to see what his future holds.
I have four published works. I went with a publisher for book one, that allowed me to retain my electronic rights. All of my work is available on Amazon currently. When I finish the latest novella, my intention is to begin to branch them out a bit more.
There, that’s a little bit about me.