For those of you with adult children, you know that sometimes it’s fun to mess with them. Two of my kids live near me, two do not.
When I embarked on this writing adventure, the only person who knew was Garage Guy. Obviously, there was a reason for wads of pet fur and piles of dust (okay, dirt) on the floor, late dinners or meals consisting of hastily slapped together cold sandwiches. Trooper that he is, he snarfed down those ham and cheese confections like they were a four-course dinner. At least I kept up with the laundry! LOL
In writing 42 Rue de Jardin, a pub scene needed a signature cocktail for the heroine, Cullan. Youngest child was a bartender for years, so I sent a text:
Me: <would u suggest a cocktail for a woman, not too sweet, just a little tart?>
Her: <vodka, cranberry and lemon-lime soda>
Me: <thanks, honey. what do you call it?>
Her: <don’t know. just made it up.>
A few minutes later:
Her: <mom, what r u doing???>
Garage Guy and I chuckled. He asked if I was ready to out myself. Hmm, I had to think about that for a bit. I wasn’t ashamed of what I was doing. But the whole ripping my chest open to bare my thoughts and imagination was (and still is) scary. Magnified by what I was writing – erotic romance. With graphic language.
I decided to dip my toe in the bathwater and talk about my writing. When former bartender daughter came over, I broached the subject. She was thrilled! Encouraged, I elaborated and told her the story context. She was quiet then said in a quavering voice, “Do you expect me to read it, Mom?”
This child reads history, political science and an occasional chick lit. Not romance. “No, it’s enough that you support my efforts,” I responded with a smile.
The relief on her face was comical.
The next child I told lives out of state and is a voracious romance reader. On the phone, she asked what I’d been doing. When I told her, she squealed, “That’s so cool! I wanna read it. Wait until I tell Gram. She reads romance all the time.”
Yikes. Do I really want my mother-in-law (or my mother) to read words I’m not supposed to know? Ai-yi-yi. Do we ever outgrow being a little girl in our own minds?
We discussed generalities about the book. She paused and said, “Um, you didn’t write about you and Dad, did you? Because I really don’t want to read about y’all’s sex life. That’s just…eww.”
*Cue hysterical laughter* No, it’s fiction.
My son didn’t bat an eyelash, though the romance genre isn’t on his radar. He prefers Stephen King, sci-fi and anything sports related. When he said he wanted to read it, I told him he didn’t have to just because I wrote it. “No, I want to,” he said. *Happy dance*
Fourth child was told over Thanksgiving. Reaction? “That’s neat. When can I read it?” *Happy dance times two*
Ah, yes, Thanksgiving. My first holiday with the family when they all knew about my writing. Mother-in-law’s comment? “You know I want to read it.” Me: “Mom, my book isn’t like the ones you read. It has graphic sex and profanity.” Her: “Don’t care. You wrote it.”
With apologies to MasterCard – Family love and support. Priceless.