Setting: Where the Heart Feels at Home

My husband and I in front of the Trevi Fountain in Rome.

Have you ever visited a place for the first time and felt as though you were finally at home?

That's what it was like for me when I first set foot in Italy. And—more incredibly—it's felt that way every time I've been fortunate enough to travel there. I'd expected the magic to wear off after a visit or two, due to familiarity or the added perspective of age, but it's remained constant through the years...like my love of Renaissance art, Murano glass beads, or freshly made chocolate-orange gelato. (For the record, Festival del Gelato in Florence is my favorite gelateria in the world!)

Then again, maybe I'm biased because I'd daydreamed about taking a trip to the famous cities of Venice, Florence, and Rome ever since I was a little kid. Or possibly because our close family friends were native Sicilians. Or because my dad had spent a memorable summer working in that country before he met my mom, and I grew up hearing stories of Italy's beauty. Or maybe it's just because I really love ravioli, passionately sung music, Mediterranean shorelines, and pure southern European sunshine.

"Marilyn Brant's A SUMMER IN EUROPE
is a wonderful tale that captivates readers
as Gwen, transformed by her surroundings,
undergoes a change of heart about life...
and love." ~Doubleday Book Club

I poured my love and first impressions of Italy into a novel called A Summer in Europe (Kensington, 2011). The main character, Gwen, takes her first trip abroad with her eccentric aunt Bea and the elderly lady's outspoken Sudoku & Mahjongg playing friends. The adventure opens Gwen's eyes to the wonderful transformative power of travel and getting to see the world through a new lens at long last. It's a happy story of a woman who's on an inward journey as much as an outward one—though, of course, she doesn't know that at first.

What's always intriguing to me about travel is that, even when we know a trip has the power to change us, I don't think it's possible for us to truly recognize that change happening until we're at least halfway through it. Or maybe even home again...

I remember being sixteen and an AFS exchange student in Brisbane, Australia. I couldn't believe I'd been lucky enough to be chosen for this dream placement. (The residents often called it a "sun-burned" country, but I just called it "gorgeous," especially with sites like the Sydney Opera House, the Gold Coast, the Great Barrier Reef, and real live koalas that I could hold...) I'd read the student-exchange materials with tremendous interest. All of those handouts and brochures that the organizers had sent us—not just about the host country, but also about the time we'd be spending with our host families and our host schools. We were cautioned that we would need to change and adapt to our new environment. That there would be a lot of information to process. That it would be a roller coaster of emotions.

And it was.

Somewhere in the middle of my summer (their winter) stay, I wrote in my trip journal that I was supposed to have changed from all of this, right? Hey, I'd entered into this journey being open to change. I'd expected it. So, why hadn't it happened yet? I felt almost exactly the same as when I'd left home. To my own eye, I was still this mostly geeky, sort of awkward high-school girl who was good as school stuff and not entirely comfortable with much else. It was only in retrospect—some months after I gotten back—that I could see in hindsight that there had been changes all along. Some were subtle shifts in perception. Others were massive worldview transformations that, ultimately, ended up altering the course of my career path and my life.

"Gelato" Photo by Aaron Logan, courtesy
of Wikimedia/Creative Commons
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Gelato.jpg

I think a strong setting—whether it's in 3D right before our eyes or simply described on the page with heart and an acute attention to detail—has the power to affect as much change upon us and/or our protagonists as any other real-life person or fictional character could. It's the very air we're breathing. The sounds we're hearing. The landmarks in our periphery. And the taste (oh, the delightful taste!) of our most unforgettable dessert.

What's a setting that's left a life-long impression upon you? A place that made you feel at home?

~~~

Marilyn Brant is a USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary women's fiction, romantic comedy, and mystery. She was named the Author of the Year (2013) by the Illinois Association of Teachers of English. She loves all things Jane Austen, has a passion for Sherlock Holmes, is a travel addict and a music junkie, and lives on chocolate and gelato. If you want to see pictures from her European travel adventures, she has a page on her website HERE. And, in her latest novel, The Road to You, her characters take a road trip down Historic Route 66, and she has photos HERE from that journey as well :) .

Necessity is the Mother of Reinvention

by Marilyn Brant

While this is in no way big news to anyone who grew up with me, what I thought I wanted to do with my life when I was a kid was "to become a rock star." Clearly, I was a very original 7th grader. (And oh, yes, I am definitely mocking my sensitive, lyric-writing, junior-high self.)

There were only three tiny problems with my plan to achieve the kind of global Top 40 domination that one-name megastars like "Madonna" and "Prince" had:
1. I could carry a tune, but I was a long way from possessing anything that approached a 'rare and natural' vocal talent.
2. I had acute stagefright and actually hated performing musically in front of anyone.
3. I was too anxious and too unwilling to take the steps needed to improve #1 or manage #2.
You know, I just really liked the fantasy...

So, I did not study much music in college, despite my deep love of the subject, until it turned up as a requirement for my major. All future educators had to take this beginners' guitar class. (I think some "Sound of Music"-loving administrator in the department was secretly convinced that all elementary teachers should be able to mimic Fraulein Maria and sing "Do Re Mi" in key while strumming.) Up until then, I'd played a couple of years of viola -- horribly, by the way -- and a few years of piano -- more successfully, but that's not saying a lot. Guitar was a brand new instrument for me, and the first time I tried to tune it, I broke two strings.

However, my classmates and my instructors did not know about my childhood daydreams of rock stardom or the lingering sadness that washes routinely over such a dreamer whenever she realizes she's given up on a passion without ever really trying. So, I decided I'd do my absolute best in this class. Give it my full effort. Pretend I wasn't scared to the point of nausea at the mere thought of singing/playing in front of everybody. Besides, I had no choice. I wouldn't graduate without those 3 effing credits.

The results were pretty gratifying. I picked up the basics of the instrument in just a few weeks. Delighted in the calluses on my fingertips, much as it hurt to develop them at first. Sped through learning the required songs and had the assistant professor listen to me play so I could get them checked off the list. Most of all, I was shocked to discover that the assistant thought I was one of the best guitarists in the class (though, keep in mind, this was a group of all beginners), and other students were starting to ask me questions like, "Hey, have you ever played before?" I did not say, "Only when I was imagining myself onstage as Pat Benatar." But I did feel that warm, inexpressible joy inside at getting to -- in a very small way -- acknowledge a dream I'd once had, confront a longstanding fear, and reinvent my self image. Not as a future rock star, of course, but as someone who could, in fact, play and sing in public. At least when necessary.

My final performance piece -- in front of the professor, the assistant, and a bunch of classmates -- rocked. Well, rocked in a country music sort of way (it was a John Denver song, LOL), but I not only got my required class credits, I managed to work up just enough courage to audition for our university's musical not long afterward. And I even got a part. A small chorus role in our college's summer production of "Li'l Abner." The rare and natural vocal talent I heard from some of my castmates during the show convinced me that I'd truly be out of my depth if I tried to compete with any of them professionally, but the gift I received was in getting a taste of the reality of singing onstage, not just the fantasy of it.

I thought about that whole experience a lot during my years as an aspiring writer. Sometimes being in a circumstance where we just don't have a choice in doing something or are limited in our options can be an odd blessing, particularly when it comes to figuring out who we are, what we really want, and what we're genuinely capable of doing. The reward is the confidence and courage that come from meeting an unforeseen challenge...and the knowledge that in some new, similarly unexpected circumstance, we could probably do it again.

p.s. What's a song or two that you love? Any that you wished you could sing onstage? If so, did you ever do it?!

~~~
Marilyn Brant is a national bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary women's fiction and romantic comedy. Her novel A Summer in Europe (Kensington 2011) was a Rhapsody Book Club top 20 bestselling title in "Fiction & Lit," and the Polish-language version was just released last month. Her next story, a coming-of-age romantic mystery called The Road to You, will be out in early October. It features the road-trip music of the 1970s, so there was much (private) jamming to Led Zeppelin, Boston and Bad Company while writing it. Also some Bee Gees, but don't tell anyone. ;)

The Wanderlust of Summer

By Marilyn Brant



The Polish edition of A SUMMER IN EUROPE.

“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art.” -- Freya Stark

A couple of weeks ago, I found out that the Polish language version of A Summer in Europe finally had a cover and was listed on the Prószyński i S-ka (publisher) website! For those writers who may already have multiple translated editions of their stories in print, maybe the thrill slowly starts to dim a little after a while...but for me? I'm not even close to being blasé, LOL. I was beyond excited to see it (embarrassingly so, in a dancing-around-the-living-room kind of way), and even more pleased to know that Polish speakers would soon have the option of reading it. It'll be released on June 18th, and I have my fingers and toes crossed that new readers will enjoy the novel.

So, even though this book originally came out from Kensington a year and a half ago, I've been thinking a lot about the story and the characters lately, wondering how they'll be received by a brand new audience. Also, since the timeline of the characters' actual journey takes place during June and July, I find myself imagining the European tour I'd created for my heroine Gwen and her fictional companions, and mentally traveling with them...especially to Venice, one of my favorite cities in the world.

There's something about summertime that always brings out my wanderlust anyway -- too many years as a student and then a teacher, I think. I equate summer vacations with backpacking and dusty road trips, sweating through t-shirts and wearing out the soles on my sneakers. I remember being a kid and riding in the car with my parents to see relatives out of state -- the windows rolled down, classic '70s or '80s songs on the radio (before they were considered "classic"), my mom's homemade sandwiches packed in the cooler and stashed in the backseat, along with chilled 7-Up and washed apples. I'm in the mood for a road trip like that right about now.

But what I remember most about those excursions were intangible things -- especially the intense longing to be further along on the journey than we were and that insatiable desire to see more and see it faster. To be able to gulp down the world around me so I'd understand it better, not feel so marginal to it. In many ways, it reminds me of the writing life. It feels like a similar kind of long and winding adventure. Lines from Jackson Browne's "Running on Empty" flow back to me whenever I think about those car rides: "Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels, looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields..." Memories of driving trips from decades' past meld together into a montage as my husband, my son and I zip down the open road in June. I don't even need to close my eyes to daydream -- my internal photo album flips ceaselessly from page to page as the landscape changes.

And, every once in a while, I remind myself that I need to slow down and savor these moments. Not to gulp. To let the experience seep in. Remembering that this day, too, will soon be a memory.

Do you have any favorite travel adventures from summers' past? Did you drive? Fly? Sail to get there? Any particular place you're longing to return to? I'd love to hear about it!

Now available: THE SWEET
TEMPTATIONS COLLECTION.

[FYI: If you're an armchair traveler and would like to take an excursion around Europe with me, I have photos and highlights from my blog/travel tour right here, featuring many of the great cities my characters visited in the book, from Rome to Vienna to Paris to London.]

--
Marilyn Brant is a national bestselling author of contemporary fiction. A Summer in Europe (Amazon, B&N and more) was featured by the Literary Guild, the BOMC and the Rhapsody Book Club, where it was a Top 20 bestselling title in Fiction & Lit. Her latest release -- just out last week! -- is The Sweet Temptations Collection (Amazon and B&N), which is a digital three-book boxed set of light romantic comedies. Her love of travel shows up in these stories, too, as does her ice cream addiction ;).

To Write vs. To Have Written

by Marilyn Brant

Last week, as I was getting ready to write this blog for today, I was sitting in a doctor's waiting room, making a few notes on scratch paper about what I really wanted to say. After jotting down 4 or 5 sentences, it occurred to me that I'd actually already written the post I wanted to write, LOL...I just had to find it. Which I did. (A modified version of these thoughts appeared on Magical Musings about 2 years ago.)

But I hoped it would be helpful to share this with you all now because these experiences we have as writers are cyclical, and certain themes and situations emerge again and again. And, recently, I found myself thinking about one theme in particular as I was chatting with an aspiring writer friend -- someone I care about and hope will finish her first manuscript. We were talking about the difference in verb tense between wanting to do something and wanting to have done something.

For instance, I’m not much of a runner these days. (Read: Only when I go out to the mailbox and it’s raining. Not sprinkling, but seriously downpouring.) I was sort of into it at one time, though. Pre-motherhood. For about a year, I actually ran for 3 – 5 miles a few times per week. Even got up to 7 miles on a handful of occasions. So, I’d experienced enough of the sensation of lean, stretching muscles — toned by high-cardio exertion — and fully oxygenated lungs working to capacity, etc., to understand the concept of a long-distance race and to even imagine myself running one.

I loved the mental image of it. I could so easily picture myself having crossed the finish line, striding — exhausted, but proud — to the winner’s podium (Gatorade bottle in hand) to get a medal, a certificate or even just a few congratulatory handshakes.

My brother, however, wasn’t just imagining it. He ran scores of races, including the Chicago Marathon** three times. It was so inspiring to watch him in action and hear his stories about these events. For one thing, he finished fast. He's not a professional athlete either, or any kind of a personal trainer. (He's a math/stats guy.) Even so, in his first year of racing in Chicago, he came in 599th place out of 31,200 finishers and about 45,000 total runners — so in the top 1.5%! I had, right before my eyes and in my very own family, a model for real running success. Furthermore, my brother is an incredibly cool dude, and he openly, enthusiastically told me all the things he did to train and prepare for the big event.

And THAT — my friends — put a dramatic end to my racing fantasies!

Turns out, I didn’t want to run a long-distance race. I wanted to have run one. I wanted the end game only — the podium, the handshakes, even the Gatorade. (I like the grape flavor.) I did not want to wake up at 4:45 (A.M.!!!) to go to the gym for strength training every day before work. I did not want to limit my chocolate intake in any way or learn how to regulate my diet for “ideal athletic performance.”  (Huh?!) And I really did not want to run outside in all types of nasty weather conditions — rain! snow! heat! — for mile after mile, month after month, just so I could get ready for that grueling course. No way! I wanted to run for fun — short distances and at a leisurely pace (with my iPod blasting Bon Jovi), amusing myself with daydreams about first-place ribbons and Olympic gold. That’s the unvarnished truth.

Any of you ever have a fantasy like that? To win “American Idol,” for instance, or to be an Academy Award nominee or a jujitsu black belt or a star figure skater? I’ve imagined all of these at some point or other... I was willing to do exactly zero work for any of them, but they provided some entertaining daydreams, LOL. Writing a novel, however, was — quite literally — a different story.

So, for example, when somebody strolls into a bookstore, scans the shelves and dreamily says to the person next to them (i.e., me), “I always wanted to write a book,” I have to wonder if their desire is like my idea of being a long-distance runner — a totally fun fantasy — or if it’s like my brother’s idea of being a long-distance runner — years of work, dedication and sometimes pain.

And I’ve found myself more than once kindly and gently trying to explain to that person the difference between wanting to write a book and wanting to have written one. I’ll ask them many of the same questions I've had to ask myself:

Does the prospect of getting up early every morning and/or staying up late every night to work for hours on a manuscript fill you with an unusual sense of excitement?

Would you rearrange your hobbies, your work hours, your free time, or whatever you need to do, to accommodate the writing whenever possible?

Will you draft, revise and persist no matter what the weather is like, how you’re feeling (tired, sick, unmotivated), the number of rejections you get or what’s on TV that night?

Do you enjoy studying the necessary aspects of the writing craft, the ever-changing publishing industry and the market to improve your skills and understanding as a novelist?

And are you already doing this — if not every single day — on most days, whether or not you have any guarantee of success or fame or fortune in the end?

Whether the other person’s answer to each question is a yes or a no, I’m happy for them. Self knowledge is power! But I know from both my experience at the track and my experience in front of the computer screen that, oh, yeah, the difference in verb tense is a BIG one. And, at a certain point, one of the marks of adulthood is being able to be honest with yourself about when you’re willing to pursue a passion with all the time, energy and effort it requires vs. when you’re not. That a particular fantasy may be delightful (and fantasies should be!), but be sure to recognize it for what it is.

As for those activities that you are willing to do all the necessary hard work to pursue — please give yourself some extra kudos for the uniqueness of that commitment. Because it’s rare and it should be honored.

___________
Marilyn Brant is the national bestselling author of seven novels, including A Summer in Europe (women's fiction) and Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Match (romantic comedy). She lives in the northern Chicago suburbs with her family where she walks a lot.

**Thoughts and prayers to the people of Boston and to everyone affected by the explosions at the Boston Marathon yesterday. Couldn't believe this happened...sigh.

In Defense of Vanilla Sex & Fiction That's Not So Edgy

By Marilyn Brant

The incredibly popular E.L. James novel
that sparked so much controversy and
interest around the world.

There's been A LOT of talk online and off when it comes to the novel Fifty Shades of Grey. Very strong opinions abound -- and frequently conflicting ones -- about the series/the plot/the characters, which was why I finally decided I had to read at least the first novel myself and draw my own conclusions.

Well, I just finished Book One this week and, I'll readily admit, I had some conflicting personal reactions. While it had its entertaining moments, I doubt the primary appeal of this story was the prose itself. Nevertheless, it's become a runaway international bestseller, and I think I can pinpoint at least a few good reasons why.

To me, the allure seems to stem from a combination of factors: The well-documented "Twilight" fan-fiction connection. The peek inside the world of BDSM (I couldn't tell you if it's accurately portrayed, though). The familiarity we have for character archetypes like Anastasia and Christian, where an innocent but beautiful/clever heroine meets a controlling/damaged but very wealthy hero and they inevitably, and somewhat inexplicably, fall in love. In this case, they also have lots of sex on lots of surfaces.

There's that fear of missing something, too. Most of us -- writers in particular -- don't want to be left out of the loop if millions of people are talking about a book. The curiosity alone can be quite a compelling inducement to read it. It was for me. ;)

Regardless, reading this got me thinking about the attraction we seem to have for stories that are labeled "edgy" and for characters who are described as "dark." Many of us are familiar with Tolstoy's famous first line from Anna Karenina: "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." And, so, there's an ever-present expectation that novelists should write about the state of unhappiness in some form or other. I get that. But that doesn't mean grittiness and dysfunction are the only ways to touch upon it. Unhappiness doesn't require great extremes in behavior to feel genuine -- just well-expressed motivations.

So, I began to wonder to what degree the dark/edgy thing was all about shock value or voyeurism. Do we need our stories to keep pushing the envelope because we're increasingly desensitized to graphic images -- even those we create mentally? Are we collectively becoming a society of world-weary sophisticates, who are bored with vanilla sex, traditional types of conflicts and average, everyday people fighting to rise above their not-very-unusual challenges? Can a book be "fresh and original" without celebrity-ish characters, kinkiness, violence or a hefty dose of emotional instability? (By the way, these aren't rhetorical questions. I'm really asking you. What do you think?)

For my part, I'll say this: I'm fascinated by the portrayal of extraordinarily damaged characters. I'm curious about fictional lives and experiences that aren't my own. I'm interested in being introduced to new worlds and varying ways of processing information, and I consider myself to have a pretty rich imagination. I love to explore characters in my stories whose perspectives may be wildly different from mine.

Sometimes.


My latest digital release, Holiday Man,
is a contemporary romance that shares
two distinct similarities with Fifty
Shades -- the hero is a wealthy
businessman & there's this one steamy
scene with a blindfold...LOL.

But, sometimes, equally as much, I love seeing snippets of my real, often humdrum suburban life reflected in the fiction I read and write. Sometimes I want the traits that make these characters unique to be their emotional courage, their honesty, their strength of spirit. I want their passion, humor, hard-earned ethics, persistence and clarity of thought to be what elevates them and makes them memorable characters...not just their "dark enigmatic past" or their "edgy intensity."

So, I guess, what I'm saying is this: In my opinion, familiar situations and commonplace problems in a story are valuable to readers, too. And, if you're writing one of those kinds of novels for NaNoWriMo or otherwise, please don't change your course just because of the popularity of any particular genre trend.

After I'd been married a few years and became a new mother, I read novels by authors who explored everyday experiences with a wisdom and truth that I didn't merely want at the time...I needed them. I had to know I wasn't alone in having (very normal, it turned out) fears and insecurities about being a wife and mom. I needed to read about characters who weren't larger than life, but who were a lot like me, and they let me in on their perceptions of the world, the mistakes they made, the struggles they had and, best of all, the way they eventually rose above them.

I'm still incredibly grateful to the authors who created these characters and plotlines -- among them, Sue Miller, Elizabeth Berg, Anne Tyler -- for bravely writing about domestic dramas, even though some might consider those tales mundane. (After all, there were no red rooms of pain or 27-year-old billionaires in them...) But, for me, those stories were lifesavers.

Maybe you've felt that way about some authors, too. Someone whose work strikes an authentic, recognizable chord in your own life. If so, please share. And to all of you in the midst of NaNo, keep at it!
~~~

Marilyn writes award-winning women's fiction and romantic comedy. Her latest trade paperback release was A Summer in Europe (Kensington, Dec. 2011), which was a Rhapsody Book Club Top 20 Bestseller in Fiction and Literature. Her newest contemporary romance is Holiday Man (ebook, Nov. 2012), a story that takes place over a year of holidays at a quaint Wisconsin inn. Hot scenes? Sure. But she admits there are no vampire-inspired characters in this book.

Book Review: Switch -- How to Change Things When Change is Hard

By Marilyn Brant

Normally, I'd jump at the chance to share with you all one of the, ohh, five hundred and forty-two thousand novels in my office (only a slight exaggeration) for my first Girlfriends book review.

But, while I do have several impressive stacks of great fiction scattered about, the book I've been reading lately (and, in fact, rereading in numerous spots) is actually a nonfiction project called SWITCH: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard by Chip and Dan Heath. Any of you already familiar with it?

The reason I wanted to share it here is because I know many of our blog readers are aspiring or published authors. And, seriously, this book couldn't be geared more toward those of us trying to find a place in the publishing world...especially during the insane month of NaNo when there's such a focus on writing more prolifically than ever and, yet, we have other obligations pulling at us. As I was reading through the 300+ pages of text, I kept thinking, "Novelists can draw some great career advice from this! And, hey, maybe it'll also help me stick to my exercise program a little better, too..." LOL.

This is what the publisher, Broadway Books/Crown, had to say about SWITCH:

Why is it so hard to make lasting changes in our companies, in our communities, and in our own lives?

The primary obstacle is a conflict that’s built into our brains, say Chip and Dan Heath, authors of the critically acclaimed bestseller Made to Stick. Psychologists have discovered that our minds are ruled by two different systems—the rational mind and the emotional mind—that compete for control. The rational mind wants a great beach body; the emotional mind wants that Oreo cookie. The rational mind wants to change something at work; the emotional mind loves the comfort of the existing routine. This tension can doom a change effort—but if it is overcome, change can come quickly.

In Switch, the Heaths show how everyday people—employees and managers, parents and nurses—have united both minds and, as a result, achieved dramatic results:
● The lowly medical interns who managed to defeat an entrenched, decades-old medical practice that was endangering patients.
● The home-organizing guru who developed a simple technique for overcoming the dread of housekeeping.
● The manager who transformed a lackadaisical customer-support team into service zealots by removing a standard tool of customer service

In a compelling, story-driven narrative, the Heaths bring together decades of counterintuitive research in psychology, sociology, and other fields to shed new light on how we can effect transformative change. Switch shows that successful changes follow a pattern, a pattern you can use to make the changes that matter to you, whether your interest is in changing the world or changing your waistline.

 

One of the many things I appreciated about the Heath brothers' theory is that it focused on three easy-to-understand avenues for change: the Rider (our thoughts), the Elephant (our emotions)  and the Path (our environment). If we're able to "Direct the Rider, Motivate the Elephant and Shape the Path," we're able to significantly alter our course. I found their examples to be clear and logical, regardless of what areas in life a person wishes to create change.

But the segment that really reminded me of the long journey to publication (and all of those roadblocks and rejections we face) and struck me as an insight particularly helpful for writers was a passage I found on page 169. The Heath brothers were talking about "creating the expectation of failure" and how, counterintuitively, warning workers/team members in a company that they should EXPECT to meet with hardship and frustration as they worked on their projects was, ultimately, an act of optimism.

They wrote (and the italics are theirs), "That's the paradox of the growth mindset. Although it seems to draw attention to failure, and in fact encourages us to seek out failure, it is unflaggingly optimistic. We will struggle, we will fail, we will be knocked down -- but throughout, we'll get better, and we'll succeed in the end. The growth mindset, then, is a buffer against defeatism. It reframes failure as a natural part of the change process. And that's critical, because people will persevere only if they perceive falling down as learning rather than as failing."

All I could do in response to that was to nod, nod again, and say, "Yeah..."
---
Marilyn Brant writes award-winning women's fiction and romantic comedy. Her debut novel, According to Jane, won RWA's Golden Heart Award for Best Mainstream Novel, the Booksellers' Best Award and the Aspen Gold, among other honors. It was named one of Buzzle.com's "100 Best Romance Novels of All Time," (she takes great delight in reminding her not-always-so-romantic husband about that), and the trade paperback edition is on special sale at Amazon right now. Her latest novel is A Summer in Europe, which was a Literary Guild, BOMC2 and Rhapsody Book Club pick.

Owning Our Strengths

By Marilyn Brant

So often, a sign of maturity is our ability to own up to our weaknesses. To learn to admit when we're playing at something that's out of our depth, so we can genuinely take the steps we need to improve and move forward.

But there's more than one way in which we can skitter at the edges of honesty and hide the truth from ourselves. The world won't be as quick to criticize or to call us out if we're downplaying a strength and, more than likely, we'll even get praise for our modesty. But, just as we should never be foolish enough to believe our own press or fail to see the publicity spinning wheel for what it is, we, likewise, shouldn't make a habit of internalizing our self-depricating statements, particularly when we know we don't mean them.

I think about this sometimes, especially when I'm actively trying to deny an ability I have. My high-school years were marked by two such assertions: (1) that I wasn't athletic and (2) that I wasn't a storyteller. In moments where I was quiet enough to listen to the inner voices and be honest about my actual gifts and flaws, I knew I was wrong to fight so hard against both of these. To keep claiming again and again that I was exactly who I said I was. Someone who hated gym. (Wasn't this proof enough of my lack of athleticism? Sure, I might love to dance, but didn't REAL athletes freakishly enjoy running laps and playing games like softball?) And someone who couldn't tell a story to save her life. (A TRUE storyteller would be able to express an anecdote aloud with ease, not just write it down, wouldn't she? And she wouldn't need to burn through half a dozen drafts to get the paper version just right either...)

So, I ignored any signs that might contradict these two arguments, even though there was a persistent side of me that suspected if I really challenged my denials -- point by point -- my claims wouldn't entirely hold up.

But I know now why I did it. Why, in many ways, I'm still denying these two areas to be strengths, despite having been a competent enough dancer to be chosen to tour Europe with a performing group one summer during college...or a decent enough storyteller to be multi-published in fiction. Because to own up to having some natural abilities -- to really embrace them as strengths -- would require my having to take full responsibility for developing them. If I tried but failed in some way (i.e., didn't get a place on the team or had a manuscript rejected), my ego couldn't soften the blow of defeat by blaming it on my lack of aptitude. But if I could insist that I had no gifts at all in these areas, then any small bit of progress I made was a triumph. I could pat myself on the back for overcoming great obstacles and doing something not remotely innate. I could convince myself that, of course, I'd have to work 3x harder than those natural athletes or storytellers. If I succeeded, then it was only as a result of my work ethic. But if I didn't succeed, well, I'd have a ready excuse to justify that failure, wouldn't I?

It's difficult for me to fight this tendency to immediately negate a gift just because I'm terrified of the personal/societal expectations of owning it. Better to think of myself as an overachiever than to suspect the reverse: That for too many years I may have actually been underachieving. That I possessed more strengths than it was comfortable for me to admit, and that I even squandered them at times because I wasn't willing to believe they existed. That my greatest weakness had nothing to do with either athletics or storytelling, but being too afraid to tell myself the truth about what I could really do well and what was genuinely out of my grasp.

In A RETURN TO LOVE, Marianne Williamson wrote something famous and beautiful on this subject, which even Nelson Mandela quoted her on. She said, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? ... Your playing small does not serve the world."

Perhaps not every person who reads this will have experienced something similar. (I don't doubt I carry around more fears than most, LOL.) But I'm hoping there are some of you out there who'll immediately think of a gift of your own that you've struggled to openly claim. Maybe it's baking or painting or playing a killer game of Texas Hold 'Em. Having an aptitude for poetry, math, tennis or jewelry design. Possessing more musical talent or more computer knowledge than you ever use. Whatever it may be, telling yourself you don't have it -- when you do -- doesn't make it disappear. So take that first frightening step...whisper it aloud. Say, "Yes, this gift is mine...now, what am I going to do with it?"

Marilyn Brant writes contemporary women's fiction and romantic comedy. Her latest novel, A SUMMER IN EUROPE, came out from Kensington Books in December 2011. About the story, A Bookish Affair wrote, "Oh this book is like sitting in the sun in the middle of a Roman piazza while eating a big scoop of gelato. It's lovely and something to be savored... Sigh, this was so good; like a vacation in a book!" (Marilyn likes this quote a lot and hopes it's true. :)

Do We Need to Explain Why We Write?

by Marilyn Brant

Writing a novel is such an emotionally intense and mentally involving task that, much of the time, we writers are so caught up in juggling the details of story structure and craft that we lose focus on the ultimate big picture: Why are we writing this book in the first place?

For me, days, weeks, even months go by and I don't think about this huge, unstated question. Oh, no. I'm too busy pondering whether the point of view I'm using to narrate my latest project is, in fact, working effectively. Or wondering if the plot and turning points that I've laboriously beated out (thank you, Blake Snyder) are, actually, succeeding in escalating the conflict like they're supposed to... I spent most of the summer puzzling over the time period and the setting of my current manuscript, asking myself -- and just about anyone who stood near me long enough: "Hey, do you like this idea? Does it make sense? Is it as interesting as I hope it is?"

These aren't bad questions, of course. But, at some point, isn't it more important to ask myself instead: "Who else cares about this? Why does this story matter? Will any narrative choice I make mean anything to anyone but me? Is going to all the trouble to write this book worth it?"

In my opinion, there is a long and a short answer to that for each of us as we face our various projects.

The long answer is undoubtedly a complicated equation involving an analysis of our writing goals, our resources, our ability to reach readers, our desire for some of the fantasies that typically come with the writing life (regardless of whether or not we end up achieving them), like being seen as famous, earning our idea of a good fortune, winning honors and awards, battling Death in our ever-present fight against our mortality, or feeling the rush we get by challenging on paper a personal fear. Essentially, by some semi-objective means, we try to determine how capable, connected, valuable and relevant our stories are in the eyes of our target audience. How meaningful our work is, at least as deemed by the society in which we live.

The short answer is...I don't know.

It's kind of like asking if Love is worth it. You can try to measure the quality of the relationship by whatever scale you value most (how attracted you are to that person, how smart or kind or wealthy he/she is, how often you laugh when you're with him/her, which ideals you both share, etc.), and you can answer the famous Ann Landers question -- "Are you better off with him or without him?" -- to try to get at the very core of what draws you to the relationship. But, when it comes right down to it, we all know it's still a leap of faith. That, ultimately, we have to come to terms with our own lack of absolute certainty in regards to what we hope is our Love of a Lifetime.

Maybe that's why, as writers, we throw ourselves so wholeheartedly into the details of the writing craft. THAT is something we do know (or, at least, we're fairly confident people like Robert McKee and Anne Lamott have some idea ;), and it gives us hope that there are things about our calling that we can know for sure. ("Yes, third person point-of-view is definitely the way to go for this piece. No, no, don't put the first turning point in that scene...")

In the end, we may or may not leave a literary legacy behind, we may or may not earn much money or many accolades for our work, and we may or may not even know all of the deep-seated reasons that drew us to writing stories in the first place, but I don't think we should have to justify our passion for writing any more than we have to justify falling in love with our spouse.

Why do we do this? Why do we write?

Somewhere inside of each of us, we know why. And though we may work hard to express every nuance in every sentence within our manuscripts, and we should be held accountable for those story choices by our readers, I don't believe we owe anyone an explanation about what drives us to set pen to paper in the first place. We may choose to share, of course, but I feel it's as personal a question as revealing a childhood secret. As much of an individual stamp as our writing voice. And as unique and hard-to-define as we are.

What do you think?

Marilyn Brant is the award-winning women's fiction author of According to Jane, Friday Mornings at Nine and the upcoming novel, A Summer in Europe (Kensington 11-29-11), about which Publishers Weekly said, "Brant's newest distinguishes itself with a charismatic leading man and very funny supporting cast, especially the wonderful elderly characters with their resonant message about living life to the fullest." She also writes light romantic comedies and has release two digitally -- On Any Given Sundae and Double Dipping. She eats a lot of ice cream.

Learning to Follow a Passion

I wasn't supposed to be a writer. I was supposed to be a scientist. That was the occupation my parents and extended family members had agreed upon for me from about 3rd grade on. They took a long, practical and rather somber look at what I good at in school (science and math = yes, sports of any kind = no) and immediately started suggesting a career path that would lead to my becoming their favorite kind of scientist: a doctor.

Thankfully, they were somewhat flexible on this. When I turned out to be squimish about things like blood...and needles...and medical procedures of all varieties, they were just fine with me channeling my academic efforts toward the bloodless sciences of geology, physics, astronomy or botany. My father, as I recall, was especially keen on the idea of pharmacy as my future occupation for a time, and I had to admit I was initially taken with the notion of grinding up tablets with a mortar and pestle and mixing chemicals every day like some kind of mad scientist -- never mind that most pharmacists don't actually do a lot of that. (I was geeky enough in the '80s to think the white lab coats were pretty cool from a fashion standpoint, too.) There were tons of possibilities, almost all of which would have made my parents happy.

But, see, I had a secret.

Although I really liked and respected the sciences, I loved the arts. All of the arts. Passionately and with my whole geeky heart. I did not dream of becoming Gen X's answer to Marie Curie. I dreamed of becoming Pat Benatar. I wanted to sing, write poetry and lyrics, play my electronic piano, be in a stageplay or two, paint huge canvases with watercolors and oils, and dance, dance, dance -- tap numbers and jitterbug and the occasional samba. (Don't laugh, Latin styles are fun.) More than anything, I wanted to do something artsy and creative every single day. Something that had meaning for me. Something where I could try to make sense of this crazy little thing called life.

But making a career in the arts requires more than dreams or hopes or passions...it also requires courage, and I didn't have a lot of that at 16 or even at 26. Part way through college, I changed majors from biochemistry to teaching -- working with 2nd and 3rd graders would be both creative and meaningful, IMO -- but I knew there was still an important element missing for me.

After eight years, when I was expecting my son, I took a leave of absence from the school district. I'd already gotten a master's degree in educational psychology (where I'd spent my grad years studying other people's creative efforts...), and I'd been working on adding an art certification so I could teach that subject, too. But a very strange thing happened during my time away. The courage that had elluded me for decades on my own was present in full force -- possibly doubled, even tripled -- when I held this new little being. I felt overpoweringly protective of him. Conscious of my need to do for him what I never would have done just for myself: To be the daily example of someone who put aside her fears long enough to follow her true passions.

I knew how easy it was for parents to get caught up in having their children fulfill their dreams for them. I'd seen it. Lived it. Didn't want to make the mistake of pressuring my kid into becoming a painter or a writer or a musician (if, say, he was wild about the sciences and dreamed of being a doctor instead...) just because I'd wanted those arts opportunities and had been too afraid to take them.

So, I started by writing poetry, articles and essays and sending them in to magazines. Some of them -- to my shock and delight -- even got accepted and published. I wrote my first women's fiction manuscript by hand on lined paper when my son and husband slept, having never read at that time so much as a single book on the craft of writing fiction (yeah, it showed), but then I wrote a second, third and fourth manuscript with the tremendous support and advice of Chicago-North RWA and my family behind me. And when I wrote the fifth one, According to Jane, I not only got an agent for my efforts, but that book went on to win the Golden Heart Award for "Best Mainstream Novel with Strong Romantic Elements," sold to Kensington and was released in October 2009.

Since then, I've sold two more novels. Friday Mornings at Nine, just came out three months ago and was chosen as a Doubleday Book Club and Book-of-the-Month Club featured alternate selection. And my third book, A Summer of Europe, will be out this year in late November.

Beyond that, though, I don't know.

I'm working on a fourth and a fifth novel -- and I'd love to sell them, of course -- but I'm taking it one story at a time. The writer's path is an interesting one and I'm curious to see where it leads. As for my son, he's now 12 and really fond of stargazing, coin collecting, Blackhawks hockey games, playing clarinet and his Nintendo Dsi. I have no idea what this motley assortment of passions might mean for him career-wise or what skills he's building toward exactly. (He swears his videogame playing is educational -- LOL.) But that's for him to decide, not me.

What I'm proud of most is knowing he's been a firsthand witness to my writing journey for as long as he can remember, and that he's come to understand that following a dream takes thousands of hours of time, a relentless work ethic and enormous levels of courage. I'm so glad I was able to give him the gift of this insight. It was very hard won. And for all those writers out there -- both published and aspiring -- putting endless hours of work into drafting, revising and submitting your stories, without knowing what the outcome will be and wondering constantly if it's all worth it...stay the course if you can. Because, yes, I think it is.

Question: Did you always know what your career would be? If not, what were some of the occupations you considered on the path to where you are now? Any career you still hope to try? (I'm still working on that Pat Benatar thing. ;) I'll give away one signed copy of Friday Mornings at Nine to one commenter -- I'll draw on Friday morning (not a coincidence!) and post the winner's name in the comment section. xo Marilyn