I've always been different, to the point that at some times in my life I've felt like an outcast. I was never fashionable or popular - I had friends, but they tended to be as peculiar and distinctive as I was. I was a plump, bookish nerd with coke-bottle glasses and curly hair during a period when long, straight locks were de rigeur. I wanted to be an astronaut and then later, the next Marie Curie. I got such good grades that my high school boyfriend dumped me because he said I made him feel inadequate.
When I was a kid, my deviance from the popular norm bothered me. Like all youngsters and teens, I wanted to fit in, to blend into and be accepted by the crowd. My mother had other ideas, though. I'll never forget arguing with her about wearing snow pants to school under my skirt. "Come on, mom," I whined. "I'll look silly. Nobody else wears snow pants." She looked me in the eye and said, "So what? Do you want to be a sheep?"
Back then, I probably answered, "Sure. Anything, as long as I don't have to wear these dumb pants!" Now, half a century later, I know how wise she was. I'm still different, but now I'm proud of it.
It does seem, though, that my "difference" shows up in my writing. I've had a number of reviews from people who didn't really know what to make of some of my tales. One reviewer wrote that Fire in the Blood was a "romance of a different sort". Another commented that Necessary Madness was a mystery, a paranormal, and a May/December romance all rolled into one book. The one shape shifter book that I've published so far involves a god whose animal form is a cross between a bird and a snake. Meanwhile, my upcoming release Almost Home, due out December 13, apparently defies categorization. It includes a M/M/F relationship, but my publisher refuses to call it a ménage...
Oh well. By now I'm used to being different. And I kind of like not fitting into someone else's pigeonholes!