The Making of a Woman

Misconceptions about womanhood are played out in books and on the big and small screen all the time.  To believe that emphasizing the attractiveness of a woman's face or the firmness of her thighs will have no effect on how men view women or how young women see themselves is a lie.

Writers who perpetuate such misconceptions do a disservice to womankind.

Lately, I've been editing my version of The Twelve Dancing Princesses featuring a dozen distinct female characters. The journey from character sketch to final scene taught me a great deal about what makes a woman.

Let me tell you, it ain't those size 0 jeans. (Especially if the lady in question happens to be fond of chocolate. Or human.)

And it certainly isn't a blemish-free face. We earned those wrinkles with years of laughter and tears, didn't we? 
Could it be the sweet, patient woman who holds her tongue when perturbed? Perhaps.

But it could just as easily be the sharp-tongued lass who gives as good as she gets.

Might it be the glowing wit that leaves a room rolling with laughter? Maybe.

But it might also be she who delivers speeches that inspire, uplift, and move a room to tears and brave acts.

Being a woman may include a heart worn on a sleeve for all to see and abuse. It may include a tough skin built to guard a soft heart from hurt.

True womanhood encompasses a number of human foibles, mistakes and missteps that make a character human, lovable, and more understanding of others.
The women featured in literature should be a reflection of the mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and wonderful aunties in our lives. Good, bad, interesting, bland. Real. And more than a pretty face and an itty bitty dress size or a big bottom and a penchant for donuts.

Because that doesn't define us.

Real women are driven by love, pain, anger, jealousy, protectiveness, loyalty, and a myriad of other things. Shouldn't they have a place in literature? Shouldn't they have a chance to shape the way men think about us or what young women learn to value in themselves?

The more complex, intriguing woman I transform from  fairytales princesses who suck up the abuse only to become trophy wivee into complex, intriguing women, the better I feel. Isn't it time to stand up for real women with saddle bags, rings under their eyes, and no energy? Isn't it time to celebrate motherhood and dirty diapers and potty training? Isn't it time to celebrate women who work their butts off to make a difference in the world?

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Thanks for dropping by! Feel free to leave me a comment and share your tips on crafting female characters. And if you'd love to read more about writing awesome heroes, peruse away!
Develop Sassy Heroes by Being One
Barbie's Dream Boat
Classic Heroines: Anne of Green Gables
The Power of Fairytales
Fairytales & Fancy Footwear
Diva Depressed
Funny Girls: Hostile Makeover

Humor & Inspiration in Writing: Prairie Wife in Heels

@PrairieHeels
Those shoes though...

Perhaps you haven't noticed my love of shoes. Maybe you've missed/ignored my many shoe selfies. (Suuuure.) Anyway, Cathy (AKA Prairie Wife in Heels) was one of the first people I connected with on Twitter, and I instantly thought, I like you! (See her profile pic on the left.)

Seriously, what's not to love? She's a city girl turned country girl with a shoe obsession. I tell you, Cathy, I can relate. 

Cathy (along with other life-minded cowgirls) writes a blog to inspire and uplift women. So when she asked if she could be a part of the Humor & Inspiration features, I was more than thrilled to pass her the mic. Take it away, mama!

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The Idyllic Country Family

When most people think of the Wyoming Prairie they imagine deep blue sky as far as the eye can see, wide open grasslands, and fragrant sage brush gently rocking in the wind. Cowboys herding cows, galloping horses, and women in long skirts. Perhaps they even imagine a few children cheerfully tagging along waving sticks and singing…From a distance my “homestead” does look like this but, the closer you get the more the idyllic scene above is proven wrong.

Cowboy and Cowboy-in-training

More often than not the sage brush and grass is being blown sideways by 30mph winds and while we have four horses and mini mule, they are kept in a corral and not able to roam free. My Cowboy can be found herding one of our five children rather than cows. Long skirts have been replaced with sweats. I do constantly have children tagging along after me but, cheerful isn’t the word I would use to describe their typical attitude.

Offspring. Definitely not cheerful.

I have always enjoyed writing but, with the birth of my first child and the next two years of being a working mother, I found other ways to spend my few precious moments of free time (sleeping). Then my husband got a new job which resulted in a move 30 miles outside of town.

As a city girl known for her love of high heels, the move to the Prairie offered many new experiences. My Wyoming life as a Prairie Wife was so unusual to all my friends back home, that I found myself being asked to share the same stories repeatedly. Those who knew me growing up, found it hard to imagine me shooting raccoons out my bedroom window in the middle of the night. 

Who's chasing who? Go, mama!

My herd of children offered many varied parenting experiences, and my local friends were often handing out my number to their acquaintances so I could answer parenting and nursing** questions.

Eventually, I began my blog PrairieWifeInHeels.com to share my stories with a wider audience and offer support to other women. I knew that having a blog would force me to take the time for myself and write. Finding opportunities to sit and write amidst the chaos of my life was overwhelming at first…but with true prairie wife grit and grace I kept at it. Soon, I began to notice that regularly taking time to blog was enriching my life in unexpected ways.

Writing has enabled me to reflect and grow. Feeding horses in -20 degree weather, in a foot of snow, nine months pregnant wasn’t funny at the time. But, I knew it would eventually make one hell of a blog post.

The connections I’ve made through our monthly interviews and social media has shown me that everyone has a story that we can learn from. What started as a way to take a few moments to myself, and perhaps help a few other women get through a rough day, has instead resulted in motivating me to be a better woman, wife, and mother.

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Cathy AKA Prairie Wife in Heels

Carry on, funny mountain mama! 
For more, connect with Cathy online.
Twitter
Pinterest
Facebook
Prairie Wife in Heels website

And for more inspiration, read the first Humor & Inspiration post, No, I Won't Write Your Memoir featuring Lydia Thomas. 

If you're a blogger, writer, or author and you'd like to be featured in the Humor & Inspirations posts, leave a comment below. 

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**The following, from Letter to the Grouchy Lady in Church shows Cathy's unique sense of humor. Apparently, after the little ones had jostled the Grouchy Lady coming and going, tossed their toys and mourned their loss, baby demanded lunch. 

“It is clear to me...that despite covering up with a blanket to nurse LittleMissH, I obviously offended your sensibilities. I of course refrained from pointing out that your breasts were only covered up by a piece of fabric as well. Though I will admit that your polyester black blazer offered a touch more coverage than my blanket. I have never prayed for a blanket to stay in place, or the baby to stay silent and not cry or burp before, how wonderful to have that experience while at church! Never before has the sound of a baby farting made me break into a cold sweat but I can attest to the fact that Secret Clinical Strength deodorant does work to hide stress sweat smell.”

Snicker! As always, thanks for dropping by, friends. By the way, you can read all the Humor & Inspiration features below:

Lydia Thomas: No, I Won't Write Your Memoirs  

Anne Goodwin: When Words Behave Like Toddlers 

Terry Tyler: Art Inspires Life

Kaley Tallman: Abandoning the Comfort Zone

Heidi Doxey: British Book Invasion

Carol J. Hedges: So You've Published a Book...

Allison Maruska: Four Steps Away From the Cliff
Colleen M. Story: Writers with Personality
Tamara Copley: The Magic of Humor
Sarah E. Boucher: Beating the Blaaahs
Jenniffer Wardell: All the Best Jokes

Sun, Surf, & Solace

Greetings all! The author is currently roadtripping all over the Bay Area (northern California) with her seventy-two-year-old mother.

Like that's not a recipe for adventure...

Here we are stopping for a selfie while Geeves brings the car around. That's how we roll in Reno.

My favorite so far has been Beach Day. You can play Spot the Tourist by seeing who braves the water this time of year. 

There I am, and yes, the water is cold. But it doesn't matter.  It's my happy place. 

When life turns nasty, my mind heads to the beach and conjures up the sound of waves rolling onto the shore and pulling out afterward.  Like a great sigh or the rhythmic breathing of a large animal, that sound calms me more than anything else.  

As I told my cousin, for a girl who lives so far inland, I am strangely enamored with the ocean.  Simple pleasures, my friends, simple pleasures. Sun, surf, sand, good friends, and solace.

As always, thanks for stopping in.  Words of wisdom and/or utter silliness will resume when I return to my beloved Utah.  Happy summer!

Paper Dolls & Cotton Castles

Paper dolls of various sizes litter the dining room table. Round, fat tummies, cotton-candy hair, extra big eyes, and cheerful grins.  Trace them, she taught me, trace them to make the clothes. I hold a pencil in one had and a handful of markers in the other. I remember to add tiny rectangular tabs to the shoulders and waists to affix the dresses, top, and pants to the dolls. 

With a little bit of effort, you can make your own fun.

I've never suspected that she's to blame for my clothes fetish, but perhaps she is.

The day-to-day clothes I wore as a teenager certainly didn't inspire my love for clothing. We did our best with six kids and a single income, but that meant we thrifted before thrifting was the thing. She did have a gift for sewing new items out of practically anything.  She fashioned dresses, tops, and skirts and loved doing it. Through high school, all my cute dresses were made by her hands on a treadle-run machine no one else could work. The rhythmic clickety-clack across cream lace, blue and white taffeta, and forest green sheers became the background music of our home life.  

Beauty can be made even if money is scarce.

We were green before green was the thing too. T-shaped posts supported three laundry lines, too many clothespins to count, and clothes and bedding for a family of eight. I remember weaving in and out of the sheets, feeling like a princess in a cotton-walled castle with a blue sky roof. 

There were chats over piles of laundry while we folded. Fold, chat, fold, chat. Momma's little helper. She always said the work went faster when you had someone to talk to, and as usual, she was right.

Work is light when everyone takes a part. 

That's my mom. 

She's a bestower of good advice, a woman the neighbors call angelic, a housekeeper who has always preferred to be hands deep in dirt rather than cleaning indoors, a gifted artist who keeps her talents a secret, a wife who has made it work with her sweetheart for nearly 50 years, a mom who takes twenty minutes to say goodbye because there's always one more thing to say and one more hug and kiss to give. 

She is and always will be my biggest fan.

Thanks, mom! Happy 72 years of being amazing!