I feel that, in our need to maintain our sense of self in a world of globalization and population explosion, we human beings are losing our sense of empathy and replacing it with self-righteous narcissism. If a person can’t or won’t try to see the world from another’s perspective, they will fail to understand anything but what they believe to be true. Belief is not reality.
Empathy is not the same as pity. All of us want to be understood, no matter who we are and how bright or bleak our lives may be. To understand why a person says or does something that goes against our beliefs, we must learn their motivation, their background, their environment, their goals. To gloss over another’s opinion as simply wrong sells both parties short.
Sometimes, it’s very frightening to delve into the mind of someone whom we fear or possibly hate. But the sad truth is all of us are equipped with the same giant brains, so very capable of being very conscientious and very malicious. The brain is a vast dense jungle of neurons, chemicals, hormones, all waiting for some event to trigger a reaction, prompt a response to the outside stimuli that feeds it, dictates its processes, molds its reality.
There are those scientists out there that still hold to the theory that evil is genetic. I’ve born witness like to rest of you to the media soup that proves time and time again that awful acts know no genealogy.
To me, it will always come down to this. If you fail to perceive the notion of others, you fail to understand them. In doing so, your perception of the world will be narrow minded and deluded by the beliefs that bring you comfort at the expense of others. Unfortunately, we are all compelled to this state. It takes a courageous act of will to be otherwise.
Lately, I’ve had a spare moment in the morning between when my husband leaves for work and my new full time job starts. I finally found the motivation and energy to write a little something. I noticed the last blog post was from February. That’s pretty awful for a writer who hopes to maintain an audience, I know.
If you are angry with me for my lack of blog writing (never mind book writing. Sheesh), I’m sorry, but your disappointment in my lack of progress is nothing compared to mine.
I learned a long time ago that I will never live up to my own expectations. I will never be as good as I believe I’m suppose to be, never be as successful, never be as organized, never be as insightful or ready.
But my worst failing is never forgiving myself for being a human being with flaws and ineptitude that preclude me from being the perfect specimen of writer, wife, friend, daughter, and now mother that I believe is necessary for acceptance from the rest of the world.
That, unfortunately, is a flaw that my main character inherited from me, though I doubt it was done with any intention on my part. Bernice runs and hides from those who care about her because she can’t seem to come to terms with her apparent failings in life. She leaves those who need her most because she believes they’d be better off without her.
But the problem with being alone for too long is the voices in ones head start to sound more convincing and logical than they should. And rarely do they ever utter the words, “you’re good enough.”
So, in my tardiness of offering anything that resembles new writing with which to entertain you, I apologize, but I have to give myself a break right now and accept that the writing will come when I let it. Meanwhile, I’m busy enjoying my chubby, drool covered, babbling new job who sucks up most of my attention, adoration, and energy.
Enjoy your summer. I may write again. Book 6 is about 1/3 done. So we’ll see. In the sage pseudo words of my new demanding boss: “gnagnagna ah ba ha aieeeee!” or something to that effect. It’s hard to articulate with big bird’s squishy beak shoved in ones mouth.
CAUTION: SPOILER IF YOU HAVEN’T READ ALL THE BOOKS YET
A little late for Valentine’s day, I know. My other full time job got in the way…
Anyway, as you probably know, Dairyland Murders is written in the genre of romantic suspense. And while it’s fun writing the suspense part and making characters squirm, it’s also fun for me to write the romance part too.
I’m not just talking about the sex scenes though. The emotional aspects are very fulfilling as well. Maybe some of my fans are less than thrilled about that. I don’t care. In my opinion, in order for characters, particularly recurring ones, to be fully developed, they need to be emotionally rounded.
That doesn’t mean that the romance goes smoothly. Far from it. Darlene and Cameron seem to have a very stable romantic relationship, but even their marriage is continually bogged down in social and racial differences, as it should be. No marriage is perfect. Like a good garden, a marriage needs constant tending and attention. If you ignore the weeds, they take over.
Evan and Bernice have the complete opposite of a smooth romance. It’s a love that persists despite itself. Continuing with the garden metaphor, their love is the weed; I’d say a dandelion. Its resilience is peskily admirable. No matter what you throw at it, it survives.
Their love is what a romance is suppose to be. It’s always turbulent and dramatic. She tells him she loves him, but hates herself for it. He runs away from her love to prove he deserves it. They betray each other. She runs from him because she thinks she can’t live up to his expectations. He goes on a noble quest to get her back and prove once and for all that they should be together. But will it last?
If you swear up and down that you NEVER read romances because they are sappy and unrealistic, then you are missing out. A billion dollar industry makes a mockery of your claim, and my books would be one dimensional shams without it.