I am utterly normal and probably the least exciting person I know. In fact, one day during my daily constitutional with my faithful dog-walking companion, we were discussing people who make their careers from their creativity and how there seems to be a direct correlation between these tortured souls and the passionate works they create. We were talking about my uneventful childhood, and my friend innocently stated, “Well, you’ll never be a Hemingway!” and she’s right. But the fact is, I’m okay with that.
I never wanted to be a Hemingway, in fact, never aspired to be a writer. I still have trouble with the title and oftentimes feel
like a fraud. The only way I can see to maintain the charade is to craft a convincing story, and as I have mentioned before, to do that I must write what I know. I am an unremarkable person, so I write about ordinary characters. My protagonists are not gods and goddesses nor paragons of virtue, and my antagonists are not evil scheming demons without a shred of decency. They are all utterly human with human strengths and failings. I believe this is what makes them real and believable. And to keep my books from becoming too mundane, I can always call on the wealth of lunacy provided by my surroundings to inject a more colorful personality.
Although my home life is far too hectic to be conducive to any serious, Hemingway-scale attempt at writing, rich inspiration abounds! In my family, I am the calm, cool, and collected Libra who keeps everyone else from murdering each other, but I am responsible for the welfare of a seriously entertaining lot. There are my temperamental, perpetually 9-year-old husband (No mid-life crisis here, folks!) whose feathers are in constant need of smoothing, and two technically grown ‘men’ (my sons) who delight in ruffling said feathers. My dog is a loveable clown and my cat is a stinker, and I wouldn’t trade a one of them for the world. They are loud, messy, maddening, and endearing, and have all found their way into my books … well, except for the cat. He may star in his own book down the road if I can ever find a quiet moment to do the illustrations. A girl can dream, right?