WOW! I can’t tell you how excited I was to be asked to join the Stiletto Gang. I mean, so many of the authors on this blog are the ones lining my bookshelves. Being offered a spot in the blog family made me dance the tarantella in my living room before I gave my answer – a resounding YES! Only, now I have to confess something and I’m worried it’ll get me kicked out of the club.
I don’t wear stilettos.
Before you start digging around in your refrigerators for those overly ripe tomatoes, let me explain. I think stilettos are awesome. Stilettos are sassy. They make a great weapon if you want to lay waste to someone’s toes and they make legs look like they go all the up to here. (Okay – you can’t see me holding my hand over my head, but you get the point.) The weapon part I love. The sassy part is totally awesome. The tall part….well, adding extra height to my legs means turning me from an already tall person into an Amazon.
Yeah – I’m tall. Add in the red hair and you have a person that sticks out like a sore thumb.
That’s not to say I don’t wear heels. I do. Well, I do now. When I was a teen I was agonizingly aware of my height and refused to wear heels. Over the years, I’ve learned that my height isn’t any less noticeable in flats, so I’ve embraced the idea of towering over folks. But stilettos still don’t work for me. The tiny heels that look so sexy on everyone else always make me feel like I’m going to end up flat on my face. And face it – as a red head, I’m a magnet for trouble. Have you ever tried to run away from someone in stilettos? I’d be nose to nose with the floor in minutes. Which is why my feet sport wedges. On wedges I can run like the wind.
So there’s my dirty little secret. Although, I guess all things considered really isn’t all that surprising. For some reason, I never am able to completely conform to the way things are supposed to be done. The cozies that I write aren’t really cozy…at least that’s what I am told. I guess a socially frisky grandfather and a hat wearing camel aren’t par for the cozy course. When I tried to write a ‘real’ cozy for my next series I ended up writing something I’m told is even less cozy. Thankfully, an editor was okay with that. And now….well, the new book I’m writing isn’t even in the same hemisphere.
I guess I’m doomed to march to the beat of my own drummer while wearing wedges. They are still sassy and sexy. And while they clomp instead of click down the hall, they are all me. So please, make me feel less like a rebel. Tell me what rules you break in your writing and in your every day life. And hopefully, the Stilettos will let me stay a member of the club long enough to see your replies!
Happy Tuesday all!
Joelle Charbonneau - the new kid on the block:)