Marianne Morea's Blog
November 5, 2013
History and Fiction...Inspiration and Modernization
People always ask me about the inspiration for my stories, and I always answer that it comes from everyday life, from the people I meet and the places I go. My books to date have been mostly Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance. I love the idea of a ‘what if’ world. A world of magic and of things that go beyond what we can see and comprehend. I also love to laugh. Humor to me is the most powerful aphrodisiac around. I love to find humor in almost everything, even when life gets heavy. It’s the reason I try to make my readers laugh, even when my stories get dark.
With Hollow’s End the inspiration was a bit different. I still love the whole idea of ‘what if’, but in this case the question of what if came after the actual historic fact. The inspiration for Hollow’s End came from the story of Cornelius and Elizabeth Van Tassell. Cornelius was an American patriot fighting against the British during the Revolutionary War. At that time in 1777, tensions were high, and the American forces were starting to become a thorn in then Governor Tryon’s side. He gave the order to “Burn the Tarrytowns” and that included the hamlet of Sleepy Hollow. The Van Tassell home and lands were on the list to be burned, and Cornelius captured as a prisoner of war. On the night of November 17, 1777, one of the coldest of the year, the burning occurred at the hands of a hessian commander by the name of Andreas Emmerich. He was so vicious in his command, that he burned the house with the Van Tassell’s two year old daughter, Leah, still inside. As Elizabeth Van Tassel cried for her daughter, her husband Cornelius was dragged away as a prisoner of war tied to the back of one of his cattle. BUT, a soldier in Emmerich’s command, also a hessian, broke rank and rescued the child, reuniting her with her mother and bringing the two to safety in a root cellar to await help. Town legend then takes the story further, that when this same soldier was later killed, decapitated in a skirmish, the Van Tassells had him buried in a clandestine Christian burial and interred in an unmarked grave in the Old Dutch Burial ground. It was to repay kindness with kindness, but with the soldier being a mercenary on the side of the British, they couldn’t bury him outright in a patriot strong hold such as the Old Dutch Church.
THAT, my readers and friends, is the inspiration for Hollow’s End. A wronged spirit in the graveyard, dishonored for centuries as being a harbinger of horror as the headless horseman…
With Hollow’s End the inspiration was a bit different. I still love the whole idea of ‘what if’, but in this case the question of what if came after the actual historic fact. The inspiration for Hollow’s End came from the story of Cornelius and Elizabeth Van Tassell. Cornelius was an American patriot fighting against the British during the Revolutionary War. At that time in 1777, tensions were high, and the American forces were starting to become a thorn in then Governor Tryon’s side. He gave the order to “Burn the Tarrytowns” and that included the hamlet of Sleepy Hollow. The Van Tassell home and lands were on the list to be burned, and Cornelius captured as a prisoner of war. On the night of November 17, 1777, one of the coldest of the year, the burning occurred at the hands of a hessian commander by the name of Andreas Emmerich. He was so vicious in his command, that he burned the house with the Van Tassell’s two year old daughter, Leah, still inside. As Elizabeth Van Tassel cried for her daughter, her husband Cornelius was dragged away as a prisoner of war tied to the back of one of his cattle. BUT, a soldier in Emmerich’s command, also a hessian, broke rank and rescued the child, reuniting her with her mother and bringing the two to safety in a root cellar to await help. Town legend then takes the story further, that when this same soldier was later killed, decapitated in a skirmish, the Van Tassells had him buried in a clandestine Christian burial and interred in an unmarked grave in the Old Dutch Burial ground. It was to repay kindness with kindness, but with the soldier being a mercenary on the side of the British, they couldn’t bury him outright in a patriot strong hold such as the Old Dutch Church.
THAT, my readers and friends, is the inspiration for Hollow’s End. A wronged spirit in the graveyard, dishonored for centuries as being a harbinger of horror as the headless horseman…
The City that Never Sleeps Because the Nightmares are Real…
Authors are often asked how they choose the setting for their stories to unfold. In my case, the answer is simple…because I live there. I’m a New Yorker.
I was born and raised in Yonkers, NY on the border of the Bronx—one of New York City’s five boroughs. I attended high school and college in the Bronx, and Graduate School in the heart of Manhattan. New York is my blood. Its heartbeat is my heartbeat. I've walked the neighborhoods and streets I write about, have gone to the restaurants, clubs and parks my characters do. My characters speak, act, and gesture like native New Yorkers, because like me, that’s just what they are.
A long time ago I took a creative writing class as a freshman at Fordham University, and one of the things I remember most was how my professor would repeatedly tell us, “Good writers write what they know.” So, there you have it.
Now, I also make sure that my characters share my love of travel and language.
Every destination, from the rocky coast of Maine to Manhattan's underground clubs in Hunter's Blood and Twice Cursed, to the European cities in Blood Legacy, book three in the Cursed by Blood Series, are places I have been, many times more than once. Language also plays a dimensional role in my books. So far I've included Spanish and French speaking vampires, and will introduce other nationalities as the series continues. Book four, The Lion's Den, will take us on a journey from New York to Mexico, to the Native American Tribes of Northern California and the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but regardless of where my books take us, our home base will always be the City that Never Sleeps.
I was born and raised in Yonkers, NY on the border of the Bronx—one of New York City’s five boroughs. I attended high school and college in the Bronx, and Graduate School in the heart of Manhattan. New York is my blood. Its heartbeat is my heartbeat. I've walked the neighborhoods and streets I write about, have gone to the restaurants, clubs and parks my characters do. My characters speak, act, and gesture like native New Yorkers, because like me, that’s just what they are.
A long time ago I took a creative writing class as a freshman at Fordham University, and one of the things I remember most was how my professor would repeatedly tell us, “Good writers write what they know.” So, there you have it.
Now, I also make sure that my characters share my love of travel and language.
Every destination, from the rocky coast of Maine to Manhattan's underground clubs in Hunter's Blood and Twice Cursed, to the European cities in Blood Legacy, book three in the Cursed by Blood Series, are places I have been, many times more than once. Language also plays a dimensional role in my books. So far I've included Spanish and French speaking vampires, and will introduce other nationalities as the series continues. Book four, The Lion's Den, will take us on a journey from New York to Mexico, to the Native American Tribes of Northern California and the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but regardless of where my books take us, our home base will always be the City that Never Sleeps.
Why Book Covers are so Important
I never really understood exactly how important or how powerful a book’s cover can be until this past Saturday. I was a featured author at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery for one of their annual autumn weekend tour events. I know that sounds completely creep—a book signing and excerpt reading in the cemetery. Yuck. But you have to understand, it’s October and it’s Halloween season, and it’s the real village of Sleepy Hollow—as in The Legend of—so it actually makes sense. Especially since the book signing was right outside the Old Dutch Church and burial ground where famous people such as Katrina Van Tassell and Washington Irving are buried.
There were hundreds of people that came through the cemetery for tours and seasonal interest, and many of them flocked to my table. Why? Because my gorgeous book cover was blown up on a huge vertical hanging banner with the tagline, “Something evil this way comes, but it’s not who you think.” …and “Two hundred years of lies and horror are coming to an end...”
The book cover was like a magnet drawing people from all over, especially the teens. They wanted to know what the story was about. They were intrigued by the history behind the story line and how it related to where they were at that very moment—in the cemetery, right next to the people mentioned in the book. It was amazing and thrilling, and right then and there I realized having the right artist, who can capture the correct feel of the book and convey the basis of the story in a single picture, is worth everything. All the work an author puts into their story in terms of writing, research and editing will fall completely short if no one picks up the book to read. Your cover is your calling card as much as what you have to say about the story, and first impressions mean everything, so why not get it right from the beginning?
What you might not know is that the current cover for Hollow’s End is actually a redesign. When I weighed the first cover against some of the New York Times best-selling books on the market, I realized the original fell short. It was too busy, so I hired a different artist to take a crack at it. It was by far the best money I ever spent next to what I paid my editor. Professionalism and marketability is key, in editing as well as in the book’s presentation. A great cover and back cover blurb will draw the reader in; good writing and editing will make them your fan forever.
There were hundreds of people that came through the cemetery for tours and seasonal interest, and many of them flocked to my table. Why? Because my gorgeous book cover was blown up on a huge vertical hanging banner with the tagline, “Something evil this way comes, but it’s not who you think.” …and “Two hundred years of lies and horror are coming to an end...”
The book cover was like a magnet drawing people from all over, especially the teens. They wanted to know what the story was about. They were intrigued by the history behind the story line and how it related to where they were at that very moment—in the cemetery, right next to the people mentioned in the book. It was amazing and thrilling, and right then and there I realized having the right artist, who can capture the correct feel of the book and convey the basis of the story in a single picture, is worth everything. All the work an author puts into their story in terms of writing, research and editing will fall completely short if no one picks up the book to read. Your cover is your calling card as much as what you have to say about the story, and first impressions mean everything, so why not get it right from the beginning?
What you might not know is that the current cover for Hollow’s End is actually a redesign. When I weighed the first cover against some of the New York Times best-selling books on the market, I realized the original fell short. It was too busy, so I hired a different artist to take a crack at it. It was by far the best money I ever spent next to what I paid my editor. Professionalism and marketability is key, in editing as well as in the book’s presentation. A great cover and back cover blurb will draw the reader in; good writing and editing will make them your fan forever.
The Importance of World Building and Character Development
Most people live ordinary lives. They have a network of friends and family about them that help make them who and what they are. They have daily routines and conflicts that come up from time to time that they have to overcome. So why would it be any different for characters in a book?
With the exception of the word ordinary, developing your character and their lives and loves is important in order to paint a picture for the reader. What makes this character who they are, where they've been and where they are going? It’s necessary to show the reader what is happening in the point of view of the character speaking rather than tell them. A reader has to feel like it’s really happening, they have to be able to imagine and sense everything the characters feel, see and sense. The way an author accomplishes that is through rich description and to the point dialogue.
This is all part of world building, giving the reader a birdseye view of the character’s life and surroundings…enmeshing them right in the thick of their conflicts and how they go about making choices and finding their resolutions. Good world building, description and dialogue are what allow the reader to get lost in a book…it’s what brings the characters to life in their imagination and where hopefully, they linger while anticipating the next book in the series.
The places and events in my stories are always born of personal experience. (Paranormal relationships notwithstanding!) My usual haunts—New York, New Orleans, Maine, Montreal—are featured heavily since they are the places I love the most. I also love to travel, and many of the places I've been lend their flavor to the stories as well. But if it’s something unfamiliar, a topic or procedure, etc., I will contact experts in the field and pepper them with questions, or scour books on the subject. These are essential elements when world building. You have to write what you know or you will be spotted as a fake.
I’d have to say my favorite part of writing and world building is falling in love with my characters. They inspire me in so many ways. And while I know that each one of them is just an extension of me, it’s great to be able to live a hidden part of myself out loud through them. It’s truly their gift. But, on the flip side, what I enjoy least about writing is the mechanics of it…all the editing and fact checking and so on. Necessary…absolutely. Fun…not so much. All in all I think of myself as lucky…I get to do what I love for a living, so it never really ‘feels’ like work.
With the exception of the word ordinary, developing your character and their lives and loves is important in order to paint a picture for the reader. What makes this character who they are, where they've been and where they are going? It’s necessary to show the reader what is happening in the point of view of the character speaking rather than tell them. A reader has to feel like it’s really happening, they have to be able to imagine and sense everything the characters feel, see and sense. The way an author accomplishes that is through rich description and to the point dialogue.
This is all part of world building, giving the reader a birdseye view of the character’s life and surroundings…enmeshing them right in the thick of their conflicts and how they go about making choices and finding their resolutions. Good world building, description and dialogue are what allow the reader to get lost in a book…it’s what brings the characters to life in their imagination and where hopefully, they linger while anticipating the next book in the series.
The places and events in my stories are always born of personal experience. (Paranormal relationships notwithstanding!) My usual haunts—New York, New Orleans, Maine, Montreal—are featured heavily since they are the places I love the most. I also love to travel, and many of the places I've been lend their flavor to the stories as well. But if it’s something unfamiliar, a topic or procedure, etc., I will contact experts in the field and pepper them with questions, or scour books on the subject. These are essential elements when world building. You have to write what you know or you will be spotted as a fake.
I’d have to say my favorite part of writing and world building is falling in love with my characters. They inspire me in so many ways. And while I know that each one of them is just an extension of me, it’s great to be able to live a hidden part of myself out loud through them. It’s truly their gift. But, on the flip side, what I enjoy least about writing is the mechanics of it…all the editing and fact checking and so on. Necessary…absolutely. Fun…not so much. All in all I think of myself as lucky…I get to do what I love for a living, so it never really ‘feels’ like work.
March 8, 2013
One Question You Wish an Interviewer Would Ask...
This week an interviewer asked a very interesting question. She asked, “What is one question that you wish an interviewer would ask, but hasn't?”
I thought about it, and the question that came to mind was: “Has anyone ever tried to make you feel embarrassed or self-conscious about the genre you choose to write?”
My answer to that is, “Yes. Quite often, in fact.”
When people find out I’m a writer, the next question usually begs, “Oh…what do you write?” It’s at that point I pause, bracing myself for their reaction. Now, I should preface that I live in New York…the self-proclaimed publishing capital of the world…so it goes without say that there are more than just a few literary snobs trolling the cracked sidewalks of the city that never sleeps, and they have no problem letting my words, “I write paranormal romance/urban fantasy–vampires and werewolves, etc.” hang in the air between us like fumes from toxic waste.
Noses wrinkled and a ‘you've got to be kidding me’ look usually accompanies the standard, “Oh,” response, immediately followed by, “I guess some people like ‘white noise’ after a busy day.”
At this point I smile politely and reply, “Yes, romance and fantasy are fun to read, and that’s why it’s a billion dollar a year industry.” …and then, I walk away leaving them speechless.
I used to commute into Manhattan every day for work, and before the age of eBooks, I would read my romances on the train ride into Grand Central Station. I can’t tell you how many times I’d catch people stealthily craning their necks to read over my shoulder…many times the same snotty women that looked down at my choice of book while in earshot of their gaggle of friends.
CJ Elisson, a friend and fellow author says she just cuts people off at the pass, using humor to offset the reaction. She just answers the loaded question with the words, “Vampires and Sex.” According to her, that either shuts people up or makes them laugh. Good either way.
I recently tried CJ’s approach at the post office. The gal working the counter sees me weekly, mailing out book giveaways and swag to contest winners and such. When she asked what it was I kept mailing out, I responded, “My books.” Of course, she asked what kind of books, so I replied, “paranormal smut.” The gal laughed so hard, she actually snorted! So, there you have it! Now, every time she sees me walk into the post office, she smiles! Maybe I’ll surprise her and give her a copy of Twice Cursed. Her smile may be accompanied by a blush the next time I see her, though! LOL!
I LOVE what I write. I’ve always loved the dreamy fantasies that follow a well written romance or urban fantasy, regardless if it’s paranormal, contemporary or historical. It’s escapist, and brings an element of ‘what if’ to the mundane of everyday life. Reading the genre, as well as writing it, brings a smile to my face, and keeps me coming back for more every day. I’m sure you feel the same way, or you wouldn’t be reading this blog…So the next time you’re at the beach, or sitting on a bench at the park, or on a train, plane or bus, and someone says, “What are you reading?” Answer with pride and remember my words.
“Because it’s fun!”
I thought about it, and the question that came to mind was: “Has anyone ever tried to make you feel embarrassed or self-conscious about the genre you choose to write?”
My answer to that is, “Yes. Quite often, in fact.”
When people find out I’m a writer, the next question usually begs, “Oh…what do you write?” It’s at that point I pause, bracing myself for their reaction. Now, I should preface that I live in New York…the self-proclaimed publishing capital of the world…so it goes without say that there are more than just a few literary snobs trolling the cracked sidewalks of the city that never sleeps, and they have no problem letting my words, “I write paranormal romance/urban fantasy–vampires and werewolves, etc.” hang in the air between us like fumes from toxic waste.
Noses wrinkled and a ‘you've got to be kidding me’ look usually accompanies the standard, “Oh,” response, immediately followed by, “I guess some people like ‘white noise’ after a busy day.”
At this point I smile politely and reply, “Yes, romance and fantasy are fun to read, and that’s why it’s a billion dollar a year industry.” …and then, I walk away leaving them speechless.
I used to commute into Manhattan every day for work, and before the age of eBooks, I would read my romances on the train ride into Grand Central Station. I can’t tell you how many times I’d catch people stealthily craning their necks to read over my shoulder…many times the same snotty women that looked down at my choice of book while in earshot of their gaggle of friends.
CJ Elisson, a friend and fellow author says she just cuts people off at the pass, using humor to offset the reaction. She just answers the loaded question with the words, “Vampires and Sex.” According to her, that either shuts people up or makes them laugh. Good either way.
I recently tried CJ’s approach at the post office. The gal working the counter sees me weekly, mailing out book giveaways and swag to contest winners and such. When she asked what it was I kept mailing out, I responded, “My books.” Of course, she asked what kind of books, so I replied, “paranormal smut.” The gal laughed so hard, she actually snorted! So, there you have it! Now, every time she sees me walk into the post office, she smiles! Maybe I’ll surprise her and give her a copy of Twice Cursed. Her smile may be accompanied by a blush the next time I see her, though! LOL!
I LOVE what I write. I’ve always loved the dreamy fantasies that follow a well written romance or urban fantasy, regardless if it’s paranormal, contemporary or historical. It’s escapist, and brings an element of ‘what if’ to the mundane of everyday life. Reading the genre, as well as writing it, brings a smile to my face, and keeps me coming back for more every day. I’m sure you feel the same way, or you wouldn’t be reading this blog…So the next time you’re at the beach, or sitting on a bench at the park, or on a train, plane or bus, and someone says, “What are you reading?” Answer with pride and remember my words.
“Because it’s fun!”
July 16, 2012
The Forgetful Heart
We've all had days that blur endlessly one into another. The same daily routines that leave us mind-numbed and yawning through our lives. However, every once in a while we're given gift, a glimpse of how life should be. Like flashes from a Hallmark card come to life, these glimpses come in moments so seemingly insignificant, they're easy to miss.
I had one of these moments while dropping off my kids at school. As usual, the circle was packed with cars, bumper to bumper waiting for the crossing guard to give the go ahead to move. The buses had just let out, and legions of third, fourth and fifth graders herded toward the main entrance of the school. It was pretty much the same old, same old I see every morning, but as I watched my kids join the throng, I noticed two boys holding back. They had spotted my fifth grader, and with huge smiles, waited for him on the sidelines. As my son came up to his friends, they all fist punched, and then laughing, headed in to start their day. I felt a stupid, silly grin spread across my face, and my heart swelled. All I could think was, "Wow."
Happy, I pulled out of the circle and onto the street, but as I drove home that momentary feeling of parental euphoria ebbed as I thought about life, about how things change, and how I didn't want any part of that change for my kids...how I wanted them to stay happy and innocent the way I saw them just moments before. I don't know why, but for some reason scenes from the movie, "The Breakfast Club," flashed through my mind. The random thoughts were most likely a by-product of caffeine-deprivation, but nonetheless, there they were. Those of us of a certain age remember the movie well, and though there are an equal amount of both humorous and poignant moments from the film to choose from, imagine my dismay when the one line in particular that grabbed me as I turned into my driveway was..."When you grow up, your heart dies."
I sat in my car a little stunned at where my brain had taken me, and after my initial feeling of, "What the hell...", I thought, "Huh, is that what really happened? Why I was so blown away by such an simple gesture of innocent joy?" I turned off the ignition and looked at myself in the rear view mirror, staring at my reflection as if the answer was hidden somewhere behind my eyes.
With a sigh, I got out of the car and walked halfway toward my open garage doors and stopped. It hit me then. It's not that our hearts die when we grow up. It's that we forget to remember that life is simple...that joy isn't quantified by how much we know, how much we have, what we look like or how much success we achieve. We get sidetracked in our busy lives, becoming associates in our marriages and our friendships, believing that life is made up of details.
I went in the house, and shut the garage door behind me. As I climbed the basement stairs, I started to laugh. My caffeine deprived brain had done it again, but this time it was the epilogue from the movie that ran through my head.
...[Mr. Vernon] you see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms and in the most convenient definitions...But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...and an athlete...and a basket case...a princess...and a criminal. Does that answer your question?
Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club
The words still speak to me, but I see them now as a token memory, encouraging me to look past the obvious and see what's really there. That perhaps these little glimpses grab our hearts for no other reason than to remind us of what's important. That joy is right there in front of us, if we have courage to look for it.
So, take inventory of the glimpses shown you, and recapture the moments of joy in your own life. Trust me, your forgetful heart can take it.
Marianne Morea
I had one of these moments while dropping off my kids at school. As usual, the circle was packed with cars, bumper to bumper waiting for the crossing guard to give the go ahead to move. The buses had just let out, and legions of third, fourth and fifth graders herded toward the main entrance of the school. It was pretty much the same old, same old I see every morning, but as I watched my kids join the throng, I noticed two boys holding back. They had spotted my fifth grader, and with huge smiles, waited for him on the sidelines. As my son came up to his friends, they all fist punched, and then laughing, headed in to start their day. I felt a stupid, silly grin spread across my face, and my heart swelled. All I could think was, "Wow."
Happy, I pulled out of the circle and onto the street, but as I drove home that momentary feeling of parental euphoria ebbed as I thought about life, about how things change, and how I didn't want any part of that change for my kids...how I wanted them to stay happy and innocent the way I saw them just moments before. I don't know why, but for some reason scenes from the movie, "The Breakfast Club," flashed through my mind. The random thoughts were most likely a by-product of caffeine-deprivation, but nonetheless, there they were. Those of us of a certain age remember the movie well, and though there are an equal amount of both humorous and poignant moments from the film to choose from, imagine my dismay when the one line in particular that grabbed me as I turned into my driveway was..."When you grow up, your heart dies."
I sat in my car a little stunned at where my brain had taken me, and after my initial feeling of, "What the hell...", I thought, "Huh, is that what really happened? Why I was so blown away by such an simple gesture of innocent joy?" I turned off the ignition and looked at myself in the rear view mirror, staring at my reflection as if the answer was hidden somewhere behind my eyes.
With a sigh, I got out of the car and walked halfway toward my open garage doors and stopped. It hit me then. It's not that our hearts die when we grow up. It's that we forget to remember that life is simple...that joy isn't quantified by how much we know, how much we have, what we look like or how much success we achieve. We get sidetracked in our busy lives, becoming associates in our marriages and our friendships, believing that life is made up of details.
I went in the house, and shut the garage door behind me. As I climbed the basement stairs, I started to laugh. My caffeine deprived brain had done it again, but this time it was the epilogue from the movie that ran through my head.
...[Mr. Vernon] you see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms and in the most convenient definitions...But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...and an athlete...and a basket case...a princess...and a criminal. Does that answer your question?
Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club
The words still speak to me, but I see them now as a token memory, encouraging me to look past the obvious and see what's really there. That perhaps these little glimpses grab our hearts for no other reason than to remind us of what's important. That joy is right there in front of us, if we have courage to look for it.
So, take inventory of the glimpses shown you, and recapture the moments of joy in your own life. Trust me, your forgetful heart can take it.
Marianne Morea
April 17, 2012
Where has the time gone?
It seems like just yesterday my kids were these delicious little gremlins, reminiscent of cute Anne Geddes photographs as they sat in their strollers, everything I needed to keep them happy and safe in a compact diaper bag.
But, like everything else in life, things change...
Somewhere along the line, I traded in my diaper genie for a chauffeur's cap, and joined the ranks of other suburban moms ferrying their children around from place to place. Oh, the destinations changed as the years flew by, moving from kiddie parties and mite hockey games, to "Just drop me off at the mall," and "Mom, I need a new dress for the dance," and "My hockey team is going to Lake Placid to skate the Olympic ice!"
But all of that pales in comparison, the day they turn to you and ask, "Mom, can you teach me to drive?"
If you're like me, you pretend you didn't hear them. Of course, the reality is you did hear them, but your head is swimming and you're suddenly incapable of cohesive speech. You muster every conceivable argument you can find to try and stave off the inevitable, but it's a lost cause. Life just took sharp curve and pushed you out of the driver's seat...literally.
As you fight panic, along with nausea and nail-biting at the fear of everything that can go wrong, you stop and take a deep breath.You look at your child, and find yourself muttering about where time has gone, baffled at how your beautiful, little baby grew into this gorgeous teenager, ready to take the helm and start her own life's journey.
And then it hits you. Besides the worry churning in your stomach, a cold reality dawns that it is no longer your time, but hers. The spotlight has now shifted, and you've been directed to exit stage right. It's a sobering moment. For me, my maternal worry was followed by an immediate sense of loss, of suddenly not being needed, of growing old. But I looked at my kids, and amazingly it dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride and unconditional love.
I guess this is what my parents meant when they said, "One day you''ll understand."
But the truth of it is we were all there on that same threshold at some point. Every one of us has war stories and glory days, and most of us can easily recall our own teenage battle cries, our zest for life in all its forms, regardless of consequence. The memories maybe soft and hazy with nostalgia, but catch yourself talking with friends, especially ones who knew you when, and watch the smiles blossom. They might be embarrassed, 'what was I thinking' sort of smiles, but still chuckle-worthy.
Now it's our children poised at the starting gate, and no matter how much our fingers clutch at the air, we need to let them go. We need to have faith, in them and in the lessons we've taught, however flawed. It's their time, their rite of passage. We need to let them sound their own battle cry and run, fists raised into life, to make their own mistakes, their own memories, and all we can do is pray they don't get caught in the crossfire.
I taught my kids everything, from how to talk and walk, to how to reach for their dreams. At times I find myself wishing I had some of the same supernatural powers I attribute to the characters I write. It would make my job of keeping my kids safe a lot easier, not to mention fun, and let's not forget the added little perk of youthful immortality...but alas, such is not the real world.
But that's okay. 'Cause while it may no longer be my time in the spotlight of youth, it's certainly my time to watch my children soar, knowing I'll always be there for them...regardless of the thuds along the way.
Marianne Morea
But, like everything else in life, things change...
Somewhere along the line, I traded in my diaper genie for a chauffeur's cap, and joined the ranks of other suburban moms ferrying their children around from place to place. Oh, the destinations changed as the years flew by, moving from kiddie parties and mite hockey games, to "Just drop me off at the mall," and "Mom, I need a new dress for the dance," and "My hockey team is going to Lake Placid to skate the Olympic ice!"
But all of that pales in comparison, the day they turn to you and ask, "Mom, can you teach me to drive?"
If you're like me, you pretend you didn't hear them. Of course, the reality is you did hear them, but your head is swimming and you're suddenly incapable of cohesive speech. You muster every conceivable argument you can find to try and stave off the inevitable, but it's a lost cause. Life just took sharp curve and pushed you out of the driver's seat...literally.
As you fight panic, along with nausea and nail-biting at the fear of everything that can go wrong, you stop and take a deep breath.You look at your child, and find yourself muttering about where time has gone, baffled at how your beautiful, little baby grew into this gorgeous teenager, ready to take the helm and start her own life's journey.
And then it hits you. Besides the worry churning in your stomach, a cold reality dawns that it is no longer your time, but hers. The spotlight has now shifted, and you've been directed to exit stage right. It's a sobering moment. For me, my maternal worry was followed by an immediate sense of loss, of suddenly not being needed, of growing old. But I looked at my kids, and amazingly it dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride and unconditional love.
I guess this is what my parents meant when they said, "One day you''ll understand."
But the truth of it is we were all there on that same threshold at some point. Every one of us has war stories and glory days, and most of us can easily recall our own teenage battle cries, our zest for life in all its forms, regardless of consequence. The memories maybe soft and hazy with nostalgia, but catch yourself talking with friends, especially ones who knew you when, and watch the smiles blossom. They might be embarrassed, 'what was I thinking' sort of smiles, but still chuckle-worthy.
Now it's our children poised at the starting gate, and no matter how much our fingers clutch at the air, we need to let them go. We need to have faith, in them and in the lessons we've taught, however flawed. It's their time, their rite of passage. We need to let them sound their own battle cry and run, fists raised into life, to make their own mistakes, their own memories, and all we can do is pray they don't get caught in the crossfire.
I taught my kids everything, from how to talk and walk, to how to reach for their dreams. At times I find myself wishing I had some of the same supernatural powers I attribute to the characters I write. It would make my job of keeping my kids safe a lot easier, not to mention fun, and let's not forget the added little perk of youthful immortality...but alas, such is not the real world.
But that's okay. 'Cause while it may no longer be my time in the spotlight of youth, it's certainly my time to watch my children soar, knowing I'll always be there for them...regardless of the thuds along the way.
Marianne Morea
