Accepting The Inevitable

I wrote a post for another blog recently where I talked about my collection of fashion prints. And I blamed my mother for getting me started on this mad obsession of mine. She was helping another sister fix up her home in Maine and unearthed a fashion print still in its frame, under a porch. Then, since Mom was never one to throw a perfectly good item away, she washed the dirt off it and gave it to me as a housewarming gift when I bought my first home.

Now, years later, I'm writing historical romances and I spend a lot of time discussing gowns–shabby ones, off the shoulder ones, gowns the same exact shade as the woman's lover's eyes, etc. I even went so far as to make one of my characters the owner of a dressmaking shop.

My current work in progress features a young woman who masqueraded as a boy while stowing away on a ship bound for America. When she arrived, she needed to borrow a gown in order to be properly presented to her aunt, and the only gown available was a faded blue serviceable dress which belonged to the hero's dead wife and is the only thing of hers that he kept, since it was his favorite dress. The aunt made some rather caustic remarks about the inferior quality of the gown, but the heroine knew how much it meant to the hero and takes care to properly clean and return it.

Mom may have started me down this path years ago, but if my first Godey print was the catalyst for my choice of genre, then I should be thanking her every day that I write. Not being one who likes being told what to do, it took me several experiments in writing before I settled in on American historical romance. I have accepted the inevitable and will continue to write about the clever, dedicated, brave men and women who made us a free nation.

Thanks, Mom.