Family Ties Warm Heart and Midwest?

My m-i-l celebrated her birthday over the weekend, bringing in two of my husband's four siblings from oot. The area reached nearly 80 degrees; the sunshine actually felt warm for the first time in a long time. Special weather for a special lady. (Two days later, we got 8 inches of snow.)
Today I just wanted to acknowledge the blessings of family, which brighten even the dreariest of gray winter days.

I’m a writer— who needs therapy?

When I was about 14, I was a serious student in several honors classes. In homeroom I sat near a girl from the popular crowd. Let’s call her Diane. For some reason Diane carried my picture in her wallet. I was thrilled. Until I saw what she’d written across the bottom: Persimmon. At the time I didn’t know what a persimmon was. A sour fruit, a friend said. Years later I learned that persimmons are actually sweet and quite tasty. But at the time…

Diane thought I was sour? I was devastated. Silly as it seems now, I carried that pejorative image with me for years, berating myself for my lack of humor when I thought I was too serious. Never mind that I sometimes laughed until I cried and often made my friends smile.

Then there was Larry, a man I worked with. I’d just earned my MBA and had landed a job in the finance department of a bank. Larry was one of those guys who smile while they sling cutting remarks your way and do what they can to make you feel inferior. Because I was no longer a 14-year-old girl, I refused to put up with Larry’s b.s. My work proved him wrong, and several times I told him to shove it. Which shocked and even silenced him for a day or two. Still, the man and his comments rankled, and I spent more than a few sleepless nights, wondering if maybe he was right.

I’m sure everyone can relate. There isn’t a person among us who hasn’t been insulted or hurt and emotionally scarred by someone.

Where is that biach Diane now? What’s mean Larry doing these days? Who knows, but you can bet she got hers and he got his—at least in my novels. When you’re a writer, you control the world you create. Some characters triumph, and others fail. I don’t mind sharing that both Diane and Larry have suffered fictionally for the pain they caused me. Sure it’s all made up, but in dealing with them through my writing, I was able to work through my hurt and frustration and move on.

I think that’s pretty darned cool.

Until later,
Ann
www.annroth.net
The Pilot's Woman, March 2008, a Romantic Times top pick!

Home Again

I met a woman at a party the other night who asked me where I was from. It’s kind of an inevitable question for my neighborhood. Cincinnati is home to Procter and Gamble, GE, and Kroger. Our sleepy town is filled with transferees from other places. I told her I was from Texas.

As we talked further, things got a little confusing. I had to clarify my answer. No, I didn’t just move from Dallas…we lived in Colorado before we moved here. And, well, that move wasn’t recent, either. We, uh, have lived in our current home for (gulp) nine years.

Suddenly, I had to face the truth. I have become an Ohioan. There’s nothing wrong with that. We’ve loved living here…but still in the back of my mind, in my heart, I drift back to where I spent the first 17 years of my life. Anyone else ever done that?

My son has! He spent his first years in Colorado. That’s where he wants to go! In fact, all his college choices revolve around Boulder and Fort Collins and Denver. My husband and I are thinking that is very far away.

I guess I’m thinking about Texas more because I just finished revisions for a Harlequin American that will be out sometime in 09. It’s set in a small town in north Texas, and boy did I love being back there….at least in my imagination and memories! In it, my hero Matt Madigan returns to his roots and attempts to settle in, but comes to find out that both he- and the town he’s living in-have changed. In fact, the only constant is a certain brown-eyed gal named Minnie who still has a crush on him.

Maybe like my hero, I’ve changed a bit, too. Lately I’ve been doing what so many native Ohioans do…anxiously await signs of spring! Today’s a good day for that. Snow has melted, the weather is warmer, and I spied a rabbit in our backyard this morning. Though that might all change tomorrow, today looks like a good day.

So, has anyone else moved around some? If so, where do you call home? Where you are now…or where you grew up?

By the way...Ann DeFee…hope your house hunt is going well!

Shelley

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Can I get there from here?

After a week of frustrating attempts to check plane schedules and conduct related research, I wish to publish a poem of praise to travel agents and airline clerks.

Here it goes:

When your fingers click the keys,
You sure set my mind at ease.

That might not qualify for any awards, but it comes from the heart. Doesn’t that count for something?

This year, various family members are jetting off to destinations around the globe.
For reasons too complicated to detail, I – who hate organizing anything more complicated than ordering a take-out pizza – have been put in charge of trying to determine the following:

--how to get two unaccompanied college boys from their Athens hotel to the airport at a ridiculously early hour, when everybody knows college boys can’t be awakened before noon with anything less than a stick of dynamite.

--how to fly from Los Angeles to Shanghai by way of Nashville, Tennessee (don’t ask why. Your brain might explode).

--I am not making this up.

As you may have gathered, I completed my tasks only with the assistance of some very gifted, very patient travel professionals.

To them I say, thank you.

No wonder my next trilogy from Harlequin American begins in May with a book entitled The Family Next Door. Next year, that’s as far as I’m venturing.