I don’t know how many of you read The Giver by Lois Lowry when you were in school. Recently, a collegue of mine decided to use it for his Science Fiction class, even though the reading level is far below high school level. Because I have the same students, I decided to read it so I could help them out if they ran into trouble doing the homework assignments.

I consider myself a pretty shallow person for the most part. I like happy endings, I don’t like to cry, I really don’t like to feel pain, and if I could avoid extremes of temperature, well that would be just dandy. Or at least I used to think so.

After reading this book where the society has been utterly conformed so no one feels or remembers anything other than what’s on the surface, everyone looks the same, every choice is regimented, and all color and emotion is washed out, I’m thinking a little pain and suffering isn’t such a bad thing.

Sure, I wish I could say my heart was never broken, or my nose either for that matter, but both experiences made me the person I am today. I’ve made some TERRIBLE choices in my life and have done some really stupid things, but that taught me not to do them again. At least I hope they did.

Pain is a part of life. So is joy and sadness. If everything is just even, is that really living? How can you appreciate the ups if there are no downs? How can you appreciate the sun if there is no rain? Or vice versa?

If you haven’t read this book, it’s worth picking up at your local library. I read the whole thing in 2 hours and that included mulitiple interruptions. Sometimes it’s good to remember there’s a reason for the struggles we have to face.

For in facing them, we grow stronger.

Many of you know that I live two lives. My writing life and my mom life, and never the twain shall meet.

I’m not ashamed of my writing side. Arianna is a lot of fun and brings joy to many people. She also gets to go to conferences and flirt and drink and dance and have a GREAT time.

The mom part of me can be fun too. I get to do a lot of great stuff with my family, go on vacations, hang out by the pool, and I usually manage to get some drinking and flirting in there as well.

Originally, I figured I’d tell people about my writing after I “made” it. I didn’t want the people around me to ask me about my stories as I received rejection after rejection. I’m still waiting to “make” it, actually. (Says the woman who just got ANOTHER rejection, sigh) I admit some of the reasons I’ve stayed “in the closet” is pride, but there’s more to it than just that.

I’ve heard of authors, especially erotica authors, whose children have been shunned, for lack of a better word. My girls are proud of me, but they don’t have a clue about what I write. I don’t ever want them to be ashamed of me. I’m sure they’ll be plenty embarrassed as time goes on, but that’s a whole different story.

My husband volunteers as a fire fighter. Can you imagine what would happen at a fire house if word got out that I was an erotica author? I know of some men who are comfortable handling the comments that come with being the husband of a romance writer. Mine isn’t one of them. More than likely, if his buddies started posting exerpts from one of my books, he’d blush so hard they’d have to turn the hose on him.

So, for now I’ll keep my secret identity. I have to admit, I kind of enjoy it. Sure, it would be nice to have some recognition, but honestly, I love being able to go to New Orleans or Daytona or wherever and let loose. By the time I’m done, I’m more than ready to come back and be mommy. And nothing I do while I’m Ari comes back to haunt me, hahahahaha