...But you look so normal?

Not too long ago I was at a friend's framing shop. I had stopped in to say hello and catch up, but seeing as she was busy, I told her I would come back another time. Needless to say, she asked me to stay, saying she'd only be a minute finishing up with a client that had come in from New York City to have some custom work done.

We all got chatting, and my friend mentioned that I was an author, and had been successful with recent book signings at a few local Barnes & Nobles. The look on the client's face was nothing short of incredulous. It wasn't because she had read my work and couldn't believe I had scored book signings at such a big chain, nor was it because I was a small pubbed author...it was because she couldn't believe I was an author at all. And her reason?

"But you look SO normal!

She simply couldn't wrap her head around the idea that someone with talent could walk around without being pierced, tattooed, or sporting mutli-colored neon hair.

"That's certainly not what we see walking around the city?" she said staring at me like I was some sort of anomoly. I half expected her to turn me round and ask me to open my mouth so she could examine my teeth.

I politely told her that while those things may very well be the "costume de rigueur" of people who consider themselves creative, true creativity lies in how one dresses the mind, not the body. And while fashion choices may be an outward show of a creative mind, it certainly ISN'T a pre-requisite for one.

Now I'm no stranger to the stranger types...I hold an MFA from the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan, and have my fair share of friends who choose to dress as such, but that doesn't automatically make them more creative or talented than anyone else. Sadly, in my opinion, it almost makes them cliché, a stereotype of just the thing they are trying to rage against.

For Romance Writer's the stereotype is even sadder. When most people think of us, it's usually the image of a lonely woman sitting in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, conjuring lovers and adventure in her imagination. In other words, one step away from being the neighborhood cat lady. If that description just made you go "eeewww", then you get it. Thankfully, for most of us that image is far from accurate, and the same goes for the people who read our work.

On one of the Amazon forums, a woman once described what we write as 'white noise', what she reads to dumb down her mind after a busy day. While I don't mind the idea of our genre being escapist, I do mind the stereotype that it's somehow less than, and to say that it's something one reads to "dumb down a mind' is insulting to those of us who work so hard at our craft.

Stereotypes are hurtful and wrong... especially when they bleed into your personal space.

Marianne Morea

A Little Good News

I spent the weekend trying to think of something terribly profound to write here, but came to the conclusion I'm not a profound person. *G*

It's true, really -- despite having a pretty decent IQ, I don't like deep, thought-provoking reading. I've had more than one person ask me why I "waste my time" reading romance, or other genre fiction (I also love fantasy and cozy mysteries). I should be reading the latest depressing Oprah pick, I suppose, or rereading "Of Mice and Men" by Steinbeck.

I hate Steinbeck.

I "waste my time" on romance (and other genre fiction) because, for the most part it's uplifting. It ends happily and makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I don't understand folks who don't enjoy that, to be honest.

Recently my local news station posted a story on their Facebook page about a deer in a New York cemetery who's protecting a Canadian goose and her nest since her mate was killed. Apparently it's the male goose who guards the nest while the female sits the eggs. Without the male, the nest is a goner. Except now this goose has a four-hooved protector. It was a great, sweet story. And yet, the comments were split -- half thanked them for posting because it WAS sweet, and the other half said things like, "THIS is news?"

Wouldn't it be nice to have a day when we didn't hear about earthquake casualties or fighting among the congress? A day when no child was abused, no woman raped, no man murdered?

The world can be a depressing place, more so because of the way the news is reported. I know good things happen every day, but when news agencies try to report them, they're mocked for not being serious enough. I wish they'd do it anyway.

So, yeah -- I'm a pretty smart person and I read romance. I'm proud of it and defend it rigorously.

How about you?

Let me leave you with an old song from the 80s that says what I was talking about (and for those of you who grew up then, the lyrics are a real flashback!):



Visit Marianne at her website or blog.

Do You Peek?

My daughter is eleven and is VERY engrossed in Christmas this year. She loves to wrap gifts, so has done everything but her own, and each time she adds another under the tree she admonishes us, "Don't peek!"

I've never really had any desire to peek at my gifts ... it ruins that surprise on Christmas morning. I like to fondle the present a bit when it's handed to me, turn it over in my hands, listen to the sounds it makes and spend some time wondering what it could be. Then, once I've had that foreplay, I slowly peel back the layers and find out what it contains.

Peeking would ruin my joy.

Surprisingly, this doesn't extend to reading for me. You see, I'm one of THOSE people... you know the kind: the ones who frequently read the ending of a book first.

I can't help myself. I was horribly traumatized at an early age when I read "Where the Red Fern Grows". That book utterly destroyed me. I cried about it for days. I know, I know, I suppose it's the mark of a good book that I cared so deeply about the characters (even if, in this case, they were dogs), but it didn't matter -- from that moment I swore to never read another sad book.

Since I slowly eased my way into reading romance, I never really worried about the endings. I mean, it should be a foregone conclusion, right?


So, off I went on my merry way, reading romances and finishing every book with a smile. More than a decade ago, however, I heard about this amazing romance novelist who was A MAN. His books were 'must reads' and of course, I had to join into the lemmings running off the edge.

I read "Message in a Bottle" by Nicholas Sparks.

You're all nodding your heads now, aren't you... you KNOW what happened to me. Once again, my heart was ripped from my chest. NONONONONONONO..... one of the protagonists should NOT die in a romance! NEVER.

And I remade that vow from seasons past.

Now? If I'm not reading a category romance, I read the end first. Usually I only read the last line or two -- I have to know if the H/H are both still alive and whether they are together. That's all. I don't care about the rest of it -- that's the journey I read the books for. But I expect a payoff, and now I make sure I get it.

I peek.

What about you? Peeker or not? Why?

See how determined I am about the HEA by checking out the tagline on my website.

Hello from yet another Maryann...

One of the most fun things about this blog has been discovering all the variations of the spelling of Maryann. I think I am the only one with this spelling, which doesn't mean people have not tried to make it two words, or add an 'e' at the end. Most of the time I don't mind the liberties taken with the spelling, as long as my name is correct on my books and on my royalty checks.

For my introductory post I thought I would describe my workspace just a bit and tell you about some things that mean a lot to me.

I have an old Royal typewriter - vintage 1940 - that I bought when I discovered that I had to type manuscripts to submit short stories to magazines. Mind you, I did not buy the typewriter new, so I am not older than dirt. Just close. I bought it second hand from the drugstore where my boyfriend worked.

I had submitted a story, written out in my neatest handwriting and submitted it to Redbook Magazine. The editor there was kind enough to send it back - I didn't know about SASE's either - with a note that handwritten manuscripts were not accepted. So I bought the typewriter and got the story typed and resent, but they still didn't buy it. I really thought that was all it was going to take, so you can imagine my disappointment.

On the wall above the old typewriter, I have framed certificates from contests I have won, as well as a framed copy of the first check I earned for a short story that was published in a national magazine - not Redbook. This one was in Lady's Circle. I thought about framing the check itself, but my husband reminded me of how many groceries we could buy if I cashed it.

Just to the left of my computer monitor is a window, and I must say that can get quite distracting. We live out in the country, so all kinds of birds, bunnies, and other critters make their way through the yard. Of course, I must stop writing now and then to take a picture.

Above my monitor is an array of cards, cartoons and pictures that all have a special meaning. Some are cards I received congratulating me on a new book, others are special because of the pictures on them. I have a dear friend who is a sculptor and she sketches on small cards and sends them out to brighten someone's day.

I'm a horse lover, so I have one whole wall of my office covered with pictures and postcards of horses. I even have an emblem from an old Ford Mustang that I found on my property when I was hiking one day. It is up there with all the horses.

I work at a computer desk with a hutch to my right. The hutch is filled with knick knacks, the most prized ones being a collection of angels my husband has gifted me with over the years. The desk itself is a mess of papers, but I do kinda have some order to my disorder. Which works well until one of the cats decides the top of my desk is his or her favorite spot for today.

John, who started life with us as a kitten and was called Little John, no longer fits that moniker. He is the most frequent visitor to my office, usually when he wants to eat. He will jump up between me and the monitor screen, trying to make me stop. If that doesn't work, he will plop down on the desk and "accidentally" push a few things off. That's when I know it is time to quit and go feed the cats.

When I am not fighting with the cats for space, I work pretty much all day in my office, and I am glad it is big enough for me and all my mess, as well as the cats. I am Managing Editor of Winnsborotoday.com, an online community magazine. I blog regularly on my blog, It's Not All Gravy, and I am with a wonderful group of editors who do The Blood Red Pencil blog. We are doing a series this week on sex scenes and love scenes that is quite interesting.

And, oh, yes, now and then I work on a new book. LOL

For those of you who are dying to know more about me and my books, there is a lot of information on my Web site, and I have put the covers of two of my books up here; Play It again, Sam, and One Small Victory.

I am really thrilled to be part of this talented group of writers and look forward to getting to know them better, as well as all the romance fans out there.