My seventy-five year old mother wants to visit my blog, but she's afraid. She claims that I am a wild woman (people, I'm not wild, I just like pretty men and I write paranormal, near-future, urban fantasies that can border on the erotic and features pretty men). I don't think she's opposed to the pretty men part - I certainly doubt it since she's on marriage number four and snagged her latest cutie eight years ago and swears she left the best for last:) But her real fear - or two fears - is that in some way shape or form I'm blaspheming (okay, maybe I am, can't really tell, don't totally know what it means) or I'm writing about her. Why or why would she think I'm writing about her? Could it be fear? Guilt? Lack of trust? Or simply that she realizes she'd make a damn good scary character? lol! No, I know why. But I'm not going to go into here - I'll leave it as a big reveal for one of my character's in my next book...
Also, if she does drop by: I had to post this in order to move my last post, featuring Shemar, down a spot - his bare torso scares some people, you know?
Of course, it would be hard to say, "No, I'm not writing about you! Real people aren't as interesting as the ones I make up!"
ReplyDeleteI sometimes wonder if we sound insane to non-writers. :)
Oh, yes. I believe insanity is there but also fascination. I think some (if not many) non-writers think writers, especially fiction writers, must be able to disconnect from reality in order to write - and that scares the concrete thinker. That's a leap off of a seriously high cliff they can't imagine. I know my Mom is that gal. Safety lives in the familiar. What she can touch, control, clean:)...For her, that's why she can't read what I write. It's a leap off a cliff she doesn't even what to know exists.
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