Michelle Styles: A Mother's Influence

Sometimes it seems the only time people discuss mothers is when Mother’s day happens. However,  my daughter happened to stumble upon Marmee and Louisa by Eve LaPlante which is the first exploration of the influence Abigail May Alcott had on her daughter Louisa. Prior to this the focus had been on her father, Bronson Alcott a self-proclaimed visionary educationalist. However in Little Women, the lynchpin is Marmee, the mother.  And then I  started thinking – how many other book were about the mother/daughter relationship and why have the mothers of authors been ignored?

When reading about the  Little House books, why is the emphasis on Pa rather than on both the parents? I recently read the annotated autobiography of Laura Ingalls Wilde, Pioneer Girl and much was made of the father, rather less of the mother. Equally I suppose the relationship between Laura and her own daughter Rose is ripe for exploration.

Then there is Jane Austen who wrote about strong older women (some of them monstrous). What was her mother like? Was she a Mrs Bennett type? Or some other creature entirely?  And what about the Bronte’s? What was their mother like? I know she died young but what effect did her death have on the family? What were her beliefs and how did that affect her daughters?

Some of it could be lack of material. If the journals and letters have

disappeared, there can be no way of telling a person’s thoughts or looking for clues. In Abigail May Alcott’s case, some survived but they were heavily redacted by her husband. After her death he cut out those passages which were unfavourable to him. Given what remained, it begs the question of how badly did he treat her?  He was not a man who believed in supporting his family.

Some of could be subtle (or not so subtle) misogyny — that the father/daughter relationship matters more for some reason. Or that women somehow have less influence in their children’s lives.

I am suppose I am as guilty as any for not wondering more about the mother’s influence. I know my mother had and continues to have a huge influence on me, even though there is an ocean between us.

Anyway, the book is excellent. I had not realised how much Louisa had cribbed from her mother’s life. Abigail May Alcott also proved to be a woman of courage and really moulded her daughter.

Michelle Styles writes warm, witty and intimate historical romance. Her next book Sold to the Viking Warrior will be published in February 2017. You can learn more about her books on www.michellestyles.co.uk

The Wrong Heirs and Mommy Swaps

When I sat down to write the duet that eventually became The Wrong Heirs, I wanted to pay a small homage to mothers everywhere, especially the ones who helped me raise my own children.

Parenting is hard and the earliest years of parenting, when you're not good at it yet, are the hardest. (They were for me, anyway.)

I was lucky enough to have two neighbours who became fast friends. Their children were about the same age as my own and they had similar values and styles of parenting. Without them, I would have been a far more stressed (and far less skilled) mom.

I should mention that I hold their husbands in high regard, but female friendship, especially when it's forged in child rearing, really stands the test of time. As did the children's friendships.

This photo is my daughter with one of those childhood friends. I love that years after they were drawing on the sidewalks themselves, they're still walking side by side, sharing secrets.

I could wax for a whole blog post about the beauty of these children and their eternal friendship, but today I'm extolling the one that mothers share, especially when they hold another's newborn and feel not just warmth and love, but the tribal 'this one is my own' feeling.

I had that for these other women's children and have always trusted them with my own, knowing that they would not only care for my children for an afternoon, but guide them and even provide them that little bit of mentorship and fresh perspective that would enrich my children's experience beyond what I could provide.

This very special feeling between mothers was something I wanted to capture when I wrote my baby swap books. Sorcha and Octavia have shared an experience of being handed the wrong baby. They held that stranger's baby and felt the well of protectiveness. It leaves them with an indelible need to be part of that child's life forever, to be a standby guardian of sorts.

Here's a snippet from The Marriage He Must Keep showing their connection:

Octavia had apologized to Sorcha when they had a moment alone, saying, “I’m so sorry this awful situation happened, Sorcha. I feel terrible—”  

“Oh, I don’t hold you responsible!” Sorcha reassured her, but admitted on a quivering whisper, “But Cesar didn’t know about Enrique. At all.” The stress of dealing with his discovery was visible in her pinched nostrils and white cheeks.  

Octavia didn’t judge. She was far too preoccupied with her own problems and the sordid reason her husband had married her. Part of her wanted to spill it all to her new friend, but it was so personal, so lowering.  

Before she left, Sorcha made a point of exchanging contact details so they could stay in touch. “I’ll be going to Spain,” Sorcha had said, a conflicted expression torturing her beautiful face. “I don’t expect it’ll be a warm welcome from his family. I’d appreciate having a friend, even if you’re in London.”  

“I’ve been in London for medical care. I live in Naples,” Octavia had said, not bringing up her reservations about going back there. Alessandro hadn’t said another word about their plans, but she hadn’t stopped thinking about how ruthless and arrogant he’d been the other night. It hurt. She felt as if she was back in her childhood, expected to do as she was told. And why not? She virtually always had.  

“I’d like a friend, too,” Octavia said with a touch more vehemence than she meant to reveal. “I’m very attached to Enrique,” she added, reaching out to stroke Sorcha’s son’s tiny closed fist. “I’ll need regular updates. I’m going to miss him. He was almost mine.” It was true. She felt a strange connection to the boy.  

“I feel the same,” Sorcha said, eyes shining with emotion. “I’ll feel so cheated, not seeing Lorenzo every day.” They hugged it out and Sorcha was gone when Alessandro settled Octavia in the back of his town car.

Do you have a fast-friend who became your child's Other Mother? Is there a family friend who isn't related, but you call Auntie? What do you think about these bonds?

The Marriage He Must Keep is on shelves now! Or grab it from one of these online retailers:
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The Consequence He Must Claim is a Feb 1st title, available now at Mills & Boon and shipping from Amazon Feb 19th. Preorder here:

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Dani Collins is the USA Today Bestselling author of two dozen sexy, witty, vibrant titles for Harlequin Mills & Boon, Tule's Montana Born, and herself.

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Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes by Jenny Gardiner

I've been thinking a lot about transitions lately, mostly because my own life has been riddled with transitions, the biggest being my recently becoming an empty-nester. Now, I long dreaded this particular transition; I had no idea how I could morph from living a life that has been all about my kids to releasing control for the most part and letting them take over the reins and having no one for whom to be accountable on a daily basis. But it's a part of life and we all have to go through it, like it or not. I've tried to tell myself this will result in plenty of freedom in my life, though I guess with that comes the potential to simply become unmoored, adrift while you try to figure out how to redefine your life.

Perhaps it was a little more dramatic how this unfolded, because not only did we send our youngest off to college a few weeks ago, but a week before that we sent our middle one off to study abroad in Europe, and then just last week bade farewell to my oldest (who graduated from college in May), who left for a year-long adventure in which he'll be off-the-grid, incommunicado, in remote stretches of the world. So not only are my kids gone, but two of them are essentially unreachable, and sadly I can't just pick up the phone and call, or text or email just to touch base with them. I've sort of gone from immersion in my kids' lives to extrication, in one fell swoop.

As an avowed extrovert, I have been wholly unprepared for this screeching halt to my world of a perpetual buzz of activity. As a mom first, writer second, I learned long ago to pick up and go with my laptop and write when I could, be it soccer practice or pick-up line at school or roadtrips to soccer matches in different cities. At home I worked at my desk in the middle of all the activity, with homework and friends of the kids dropping by and the television blaring. I became used to operating in "putting out fires" mode, jumping from one urgent, pressing situation with the kids to another, squeezing my writing in when I could. On top of that, I never quite realized how much of my social life centered around being at school-related functions, where you're around parents of kids your kids' ages. When all of a sudden you don't have that outlet, you realize you have no one with whom to hang. My close friends either have school-aged kids so are still very involved with their kids at home, or have already departed for the post-empty nest world and aren't even around. Or else they're now stuck in jobs and are completely unavailable. I'm thinking I might soon have to chat up the mailman just to have companionship by day. I was thrilled to have had all the kids (and their respective girlfriends/boyfriends) around much of the summer, so this meant we had much going on, with little free time for writing. Truth be told my life hasn't allowed for much writing at all since last winter, what with my youngest child's travel sports schedule and trekking all over the east coast while deciding colleges for her, and in between that road-tripping to my other kids' schools for various awards and events.

So all of a sudden this week I was faced with the deafening silence of being virtually alone. Now, I'm not completely alone because I have this menagerie of demanding pets (two dogs, a parrot, a bunny and a cat). So it's not silent like a normal person's house, but rather silent with a lot of barking, squawking, and still a huge mess even though no one is leaving a trail of dirty dishes and laundry about the place. Instead it's mounds of feather, fur and animal poo, thanks. To top it off my husband went out of town. And I was left to be alone with myself. And I hated it. It's sad because I vividly recall times when my children were young when I probably would have paid to be alone at a Greyhound bus station for a few hours, I craved solitude so much. But now that I've found solitude, I don't particularly like it, and I am anxious to be around people. Which doesn't happen as easily when your office is the desk in your kitchen and the only ones around with whom to converse have fur or feathers. I fear I'll turn into a cat lady.The unfortunate hallmark of my weekend alone were bouts with unbidden eruptions of tears and a half-hearted pity party thrown in for good measure. I guess it's a good thing I didn't resort to watching home videos of my children as babies. I blubbered enough without that, thanks.
As if this week during which loneliness seemed to be defining my life wasn't bad enough, with my husband away I decided to have the dogs sleep with me in the bedroom. Nothing worse than being home alone with a dog barking in the middle of the night downstairs to unnerve you. So I figured I'd keep them nearby to avoid that. So instead, at 3 a.m. Saturday night, I was awoken abruptly by the unmistakable sound of a dog throwing up. I hastened the dog into the bathroom to keep the mess at bay, but she followed me back to the room only for me to realize she was about to have a seizure. Knowing what that would entail, I scooped up my nearly 80-pound dog and lugged her, completely deadweight but for the onset of her seizure starting to overtake her, and laid her on the bathroom floor, trying to settle her in as best I could. Carrying her resulted in my being accidentally scraped up by her claws, and yeah, covered in dog wee wee, which I'd been trying to avoid by sticking her in the bathroom in the first place. Just as her seizure finally ended, I heard my other dog start to throw up. Seriously. So while I have tried to tell myself "Hey, the upside of the empty nest is no kids to wake me in the middle of the night!", the reality is I have animals who somehow can't help but do so. I was up cleaning the dogs and their mess till after 5 a.m. and couldn't fall asleep till 7 a.m. Yep, my first week as an empty-nester left me too tired to even do the one thing I now have all sorts of time to do: write.

I'm hoping week two of my transition will result in a much more productive week. The stress of the past month of preparing my kids for their various departures left me in a state of inertia, just sort of treading water as I clear my head and try to get a grip on my new life.

I know at some point I will relish this newfound "freedom" (bound though I am with these crazy pets, one of whom is a talking parrot who has repeated "Goodnight, I love you" ten times in the past fifteen minutes). I'll be happy to be able to settle down and focus on my writing again, once I actually learn how to focus with no distractions (wish me luck). In the meantime, I guess I just have to ride this wave, see where it takes me, expect to feel sad and at odds with myself and allow myself to be unmoored, adrift in a new world I don't quite know how to navigate. This happens when life is in transition.



  Sleeping with Ward Cleaver

Slim to None

Anywhere But Here

Where the Heart Is

Winging It: A Memoir of Caring for a Vengeful Parrot Who's Determined to Kill Me

Accidentally on Purpose (written as Erin Delany)

Compromising Positions (written as Erin Delany)

I'm Not the Biggest Bitch in this Relationship (I'm a contributor)

And these shorts:
Idol Worship: A Lost Week with the Weirdos and Wannabes at American Idol Auditions

The Gall of It All: And None of the Three F's Rhymes with Duck

Naked Man On Main Street

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Honoring Mothers and Mothers' Day

This Sunday is Mother's Day in the US, Canada, Australia and a number of other countries. The UK has Mothering Sunday during Lent when mothers are appreciated. As I now live in the UK, and my mother lives in the US, I do have to remember the US date as my mother prefers to celebrate Mother's Day on Mother's Day rather than on Mothering Sunday.
As I am sure you know, Mother's Day was chiefly the work of one woman -- Anna Jarvis. She wanted to honor her mother and to celebrate the role of the woman in the family. She began handing out carnations at her church in 1907, choosing the Sunday closest to her mother's birthday. The movement took off and in 1914, Woodrow Wilson signed the bill making the second Sunday of May Mother's Day in the US. Later Anna Jarvis denounced the day as it had become far too commercialised. But the day remains and mothers do like to think they are appreciated.
It is interesting that it started in this time period. International Women's Day which is celebrated at the beginning of March (particularly in Italy as the Festa della Donna) started as a result of the 1907 fire in New York City. Many of the seamstresses who were killed were Italian.
But whenever you celebrate, I do think mothers and motherhood are well worth celebrating.
Thankfully, my lot understand that often the gift of time and a romance novel are what I want.
Anyway, as a mother, one of my great joys is to read some of the quotes about motherhood. My aunt sent through some yesterday and so I wanted to share some with you. Does anyone else have any good quotes or sayings about being a mother?
All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother.--Abraham Lincoln
My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my
mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and
physical education I received from her.--George Washington
A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary.--Dorothy Canfield Fisher
Youth fades; love droops, the leaves of friendship fall; A mother's secret hope outlives them all.--Oliver Wendell Holmes
The joys of motherhood are never fully experienced until the children are in bed.--Author Unknown.
Becoming a mother makes you the mother of all children. From now on each
wounded, abandoned, frightened child is yours. You live in the suffering mothers of every race and creed and weep with them. You long to comfort all who are desolate.--Charlotte Gray
A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after.--Peter De Vries
It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn't.--Barbara Kingsolver
God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers.-- Jewish proverb

Michelle Styles's latest release in the UK was Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife.