Why mature women matter
Recently I was with a gorgeous redhead at a writer’s conference (my roommate for the event) and we came upon one of the workshop presenters (who happened to be a man closer to my age – probably older – than hers) who graciously responded to my roommate’s question and proceeded to invite himself along for another function. That was all well and good, and fine with me. Here’s where it got sticky, I tried to insert myself into the conversation a couple of times, but quickly discovered the silver-haired man did not know I existed. He only had eyes for youth and beauty.
I don’t blame him, my friend is gorgeous, but whatever happened to common courtesy? “Hello, other person who I am not the slightest bit interested in. Nice to meet you, now, let me ogle your friend, if you don’t mind.”
I don’t put up with stuff like that anymore. I wish I could say I grabbed him by the lapels and forced him to look at me. “I exist, jerkhead! Therefore I am.” But, unlike him, I enforce that common courtesy I was pining over in the prior paragraph. So I disappeared, (how can you disappear when you don’t exist, you ask?) and went off where I knew I would be welcomed. Who has time for that stuff at this age? My gorgeous friend is perfectly capable of handling social situations, and, as it turned out, karma was afoot.
A fact of life’s stages
There comes a time in each woman’s life when she slips from the radar in some areas, but comes into her own in so many other aspects of life. I didn’t seriously pursue writing
until I was fifty years old (I’m being honest and vulnerable here, so be gentle!) Sold my first book three days before my fifty-sixth birthday, and continue to write stories about falling in love for Harlequin, Mills & Boon, and The Wild Rose Press.
My favorite quote:
“To all, I would say how mistaken they are when they think that they stop falling in
love when they grow old, without knowing that they grow old when they stop
falling in love...” Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
That quote can be applied to so many things in life! I worry about people who become overly cautious, or stop doing things because they feel past their prime. I ziplined for the first time in 2010 in Kauai, got on the back of a motorcycle for the first time last year, too. I took a class on gun safety and spent time at a shooting range a couple years back. In 2005 on my own, I picked up and went to the UK because my daughter was spending a semester in Oxford. Did I worry about traveling alone? A little, but not enough to hold me back. I welcomed the adventure of staying in B&Bs, learning the local transportation, exploring the city, and discovering restaurants and pubs unlike anything I’ve found in the U.S.
As a writer, I get to hang out with wonderful women of all ages at writer’s conferences. Instead of feeling intimidated, it invigorates me. We have a common thread – we all write some form of romance. And though, after twenty-nine years of marriage, the first spark of falling in love may be a distant memory, it has never been forgotten. I love rekindling that spark with each book I write.
In our hearts we’re eternally twenty-five
One quick look in the mirror re-enforces our true age, but soul-age is eternally young. Ask anyone with white hair. When a person gets swept away by music, do they feel any specific age? Or when they’re engrossed in the wonder of a Monet painting, is age an issue? When I close my eyes and ride amusement park rides, I’m a kid again. Snorkeling in refreshing azure seas, I am ageless and timeless. Tasting the subtly infused herbs and spices of a new chef, my palate knows no age requirement. And love, yes, if you’re lucky, falling in love happens several times a day. With who and what, is completely up to you.
I don’t know about you, but these days, older and bolder heroines are the kind I want to read about!
TELL ME ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE HEROINES IN THE RECENT BOOKS YOU’VE READ.
ONE FOR THE ROAD a Wild Rose Press Contemporary Romance tells the tale of a 46 year old D’Anne Palmer, stranded and broke, a 40 foot RV her only possession, and Tyler
White an ex-country star on his comeback tour. As they journey from Nashville to Las Vegas, via Texas, with the band and Tyler’s dog, can close quarters help a has-been singer and a widow with California style find love?
For an excerpt of One for the Road go here.
I love to write older heroines with a few lines on their faces to prove they’ve
stared down that enemy who tries to tell them, “You’re too old. It’s too late.” And if my daunting stare doesn’t scare away the negativity, I’ve recently mastered a mean sidekick that will leave doubt and insecurity on their respective keesters.
Until next week, make it a great one!