
J.C., why are you laughing? [squinting in J.C.'s direction]
I have a wild side. I really do! With two kids, a couple of part-time jobs, and a husband who stresses out if every detail isn't planned down to the millisecond, my wild woman just doesn't get out very often anymore.
Except in my books.
It's actually fun to see the looks on my friends' and loved ones' faces after they've read one of my books. It's that little cock of the head, the raised eyebrow and the hesitation when they comment, "But you were always so quiet, and...um...
nice." (Note the past tense.)
And you know, the books of mine they've read so far aren't all that hot. They're dark, bloody, gory, and have maybe one hot sex scene, but nothing drastic.
I'm working on the drastic. Heh heh heh.
My take on it is, when you grow up like I did, with a chronic disease, you find some way to indulge your wild side. You have to. You
must.
Or you
will go insane. Period.
Dylan Thomas said, "A born writer is born scrofulous. His career is an accident dictated by physical or circumstantial disabilities."
I started out lying awake in bed at night, spinning stories in my head to entertain myself. With little else to do during the day, I read like a demon.
Then, I started to write.
My elementary school teachers would send my essays and artwork home with notes attached to them. Kind, delicately worded notes, but expressing enough concern for my welfare (dare I say, "mental stability?") that I remember at least once or twice getting the proverbial "talking to" from my parents. In high school, I was given an assignment to write an essay from Holden Caulfield's point of view.
Ya think I scored an A on that one? You bet your ass I did.
Although at the time my Mom scolded me for the foul language I used in it, I recently found out that she has kept it carefully stored in her files all these years along with other early samples of my writing.
So yeah, I guess she felt it was her moral duty as a parent to figuratively wash my mouth out with soap, but secretly, Mom and Dad were (and are) proud of me. I can easily picture her closing her bedroom door, filing the paper away, then pumping the air with her fist in a silent "YESSSS!"
Lately I've been restless to go back and find that fearless girl who held nothing back in her writing, who had nothing to lose. After years of marriage and parenting, I can easily see, now, how a woman can lose her sense of self.
With my upcoming novella WILDISH THINGS, I've plunged back in.
Okay, okay. I'm knee deep.
But honey, the water's risin'.
~Carolan
ABHAINN'S KISS, available now from SamhainPublishing.com
Nov. 1: WILDISH THINGS, Love and Lore anthology, SamhainPublishing.com
TBA: BEAUDRY'S GHOST
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Photo:
Gordon Thye