Paranormal Heroines, or why my Maggie jumps when things go bump in the night...

Anyone who has been writing genre fiction for long is bound to encounter The Rules. You know, the ones that other writers toss around with great abandon, like: "Your hero/heroine must be strong. They have to always be active-slash-aggressive, take charge of the situations they find themselves in, and be in command of their lives. You can't write cross-genre -- no one will buy it. Better to stick with one in order to sell. You can't mix humor with darkness -- again, you have to choose to be either funny or dramatic."

My primary goal when I started the Bewitching series was to flush the rules down the toilet and write what felt right.

My Maggie is not a kickass heroine. {Which is not to say I don't love to read them -- I do. I just can't seem to write 'em!} She is a little on the neurotic side, knows enough to question her reactions when the situation warrants it, and is basically feeling her way through life. She isn't drop-dead gorgeous, she isn't model thin, and she doesn't have a smile that drops men to their knees. Her hair frizzes when the humidity is high, she gets sunburned way too easily, and when she doesn't like what she's doing, she tends to procrastinate. She has an acerbic sense of humor that sometimes comes out wrong, but would bite her tongue before purposely hurting anyone's feelings... especially her mother, who drives her crazy. And as she speeds toward her 30th birthday, she has a tendency to wonder if she ever will meet that certain someone.

In other words, she's normal. A person I can relate to.

She's also an intuitive empath. That's another thing I can relate to.

Psychic heroines are a lot of fun, but I wanted to give Maggie something a little bit different. It's always difficult to come up with someone who is fresh and new and yet as familiar to us as our own sisters, but to me that's what Maggie is. She's your average, everyday kind of girl who is still struggling to get somewhere in life when from out of nowhere she finds herself in some paranormally charged circumstances that throw her neat and tidy world view for a loop. But while the discovery of a shadow world hitherto unsuspected knocks her a bit off-balance, it also empowers her. She's always known she was different from everyone around her, but this is the first time she's felt... special. Suddenly things click into place. The kinds of experiences she has always had but used to dismiss as imagination or coincidence have turned out to be real. Otherworldly and a bit magical, yes, but real. And as Maggie is beginning to discover, she's a lot stronger at her core than she ever realized.

This contrast between inner and outer, light and dark, myth and reality, is what keeps me intrigued and keeps me writing. All I can do is hope readers will find it as compelling as I do.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

My Maaaad, Mad Little World

In addition to writing, I also work full-time. Things can get a little crazy in my corner of the world. I'm sure you've all been there. We also just took in a dog in the last month, and while he is the most adorable pup in the world, he has, shall we say, a stubborn streak. Anyway, I thought I might share a little about what goes on from day to day:

6:09 a.m. Wake up. Take dog out.
6:12 a.m. Jiggle doggie at the end of the leash, trying to make him hurry. Shiver uncontrollably.
6:18 a.m. Doggie still has not gone. Sh*t!
6:20 a.m. Give up. Drag doggie inside, as he's now discovered what fun romping in the snow can be.
6:21 a.m. Clean up dog mess. Silly dog will romp in snow, but not GO in snow. Sigh.

6:30 a.m. The morning rush to get ready for work and get everyone else out of the house to get wherever they need to get to on time. Because of all of this, you:

8:05 a.m. Enter building, late. Again.
8:07 a.m. Check email. Grumble to self over CERTAIN STUPID people who shall remain nameless, but it shall not reduce the impact of their INCREDIBLE STUPIDITY.
8:09 a.m. Distract self with thoughts of Scottish Hunks. In Kilts.
9:09 a.m. Force self to get to work.
9:15 a.m. Work is simply too much... work. Drift into daydreams. Again.
12:00 p.m. What was I supposed to be doing? Force self to go into panic mode.
2:22 p.m. Check email. Oh, look, some kind soul has sent me a picture.
2:23 p.m. Drool incessantly into keyboard.
3:33 p.m. Wasn't I supposed to be doing something? Oh, yeah. Work. Hard. Very, very hard.
4:33 p.m. Allow self a moment of respite in a new daydream involving Shirtless Scottish Hunks. In Kilts. On Breezy Days.

4:45 p.m. Wow, my workday is done. So soon!

***Mindless driving, errand-running, more driving, and home again...***

6 p.m. How can one little animal make this much of a mess? I think he may be related to beavers--there is not a single piece of wooden furniture that has not been gnawed. And did I mention his toilet paper fetish? Big Sigh. Start sweeping, making dinner, helping with homework, chasing the boys away from the video games. More doggie messes, more kid messes, more video games, good grief!

Muuuuuuuch later...Go into bathroom. Stare into mirror and groan over new wrinkles caused by the aforementioned CERTAIN STUPID NAMELESS PEOPLE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS, DESPITE THE FACT THAT THEY ARE MORE STUPID THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE HISTORY OF THE EARTH AND REALLY SHOULD BE POINTED OUT AS SUCH IN ORDER TO SAVE POSTERITY FROM THEIR VAST AND LIMITLESS STUPIDITY. Not to mention the neverending stream of doggie messes.

Decide a bubble bath would be a very good thing.

Drift down into a mountain of bubbles {I'm sure I need not mention the kilted Scotsmen}, steadfastly ignoring the dog, who is now standing on his hind legs trying to drink the bath water.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

P.S. Anyone from work who is reading this post -- I'm not talking about you. Honest. And I really do work a lot harder than this probably suggests, as the pile of papers daily being marked 'DONE' and transferred to my filing cabinet will attest.

P.P.S. For my editor -- I really do insert writing into the schedule, whenever and wherever possible. Heh.