Sassy Pants

Everyone talks about crafting strong female characters who possess the perfect blend of strength, weakness, and that special something that makes them jump off the page. Well, I'm here to pass on a little secret. Are you ready? I'll give you an extra second to compose yourselves. Okay. Now? Here we go!

It ain't hard when you have plenty of sass yourself.

When you're the type of girl who naturally makes snarky comments, wears fancy footwear, and falls on Yell Leaders and/or other unsuspecting individuals, you're pretty much set. If natural borne sass is something you struggle with, I'm here to help you. Consider me your Sass Guru.

Being a Sassy Pants in Five Easy Steps:

1) Embrace your awesomeness. You can choose the label you tag onto yourself. Make it adorable, spunky, fun, and yes, awesome. Why not? If you believe it, others will see it. (Incidentally, unless it's your mother, others will not label you accordingly. Don't allow their opinions to flavor your self-perception.)

2) Dress the part. I'm sorry, but Crocks, sweatpants and/or mother jeans are not dressing the part. This isn't a 24-7 gig, but you do need to dress up in order to make an impression. Trust me, there will be time for Netflix and pajama pants in the off-hours.

3) Exude sassiness. Don't confuse sass with crass. Sassiness is a mix of cleverness, teasing, and cuteness that attracts people to you rather than driving them off. It is an invitation to spend more time with you rather than to duck and cover. (Also, in case you pass the line between crass and sass, learn to apologize appropriately.)

4) Stand your ground. You may be adorable, but you don't need to be anyone's doormat. Express yourself respectfully but firmly. (For instance, I will make you cookies in a ruffly, ruffly apron, but I will also tell you to please shush and go away if you're getting on my nerves.)

5) Learn to defend yourself. Whether it means taking a self-defense class or just watching Miss Congeniality repeatedly, learn to take care of yourself. That way if your snarky younger brother decides to kick you in the lady bits at Kmart, you too can deliver a sound jab to the jaw to remind him how to treat a lady.

Once you've uncovered your inner sass, pour it into your characters. Make them as quirky and lovable as you are. Not only will you be the strong female lead in your own life, but your characters will live and breathe.

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Like to devour a bit more? Meet a few of my leading ladies in Woman: The Most Dangerous Plaything, Arguing With Myself, Hostile Makeover, Interlude in the Rose Garden, S'more Smoochin',  Just a Taste. & Dealing With Divas. Enjoy the sass!

Barbie's Dream Boat

Fine. I'll admit it. I have some pretty strong perfectionist tendencies. Because of that, having a variety of projects going at the same time keeps me from fixating on any one, deciding it's complete rubbish, and bagging it. Sam James is one of several stories I wrote early on and decided to rework when my writing skills improved. As I fiddle with it in between my main projects, I'll continue to post chapter excerpts for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

Chapter Three:

Barbie's Dream Boat

Samantha emerged butterfly-like out of her cocoon of drab clothing and footwear and drew the attention of eligible bachelors like moths to a flame. Perhaps a wealthy oil tycoon searching for true love and adventure, or a sexy bad boy bent on ruining every woman in his path would succumb to her charms. After a mad, passionate rumble, the selected swain would abandon his wicked ways and beg her to be his.
At least, that was the plan. 

However, with all the changes she had undergone, one thing remained constant: next to Vanessa Sumers, Sam was invisible. Sam propped her cheek on her palm and sighed inwardly as the attractive-looking businessman seated beside her at the table leaned over her to vie for Vanessa’s attentions. The athletic-looking fellow seated beside Vanessa was fighting equally hard. 

Well, Sam thought, caught in a flirting maelstrom in which she played no part, this is what I get for letting myself daydream.

As always, Vanessa had secured one of the best tables in the ballroom for the evening’s entertainment, set alongside the stage itself.Tonight’s program boasted a ballroom dance review. Sam knew little about dancing, but she admired the skill and grace required and wished she had any type of coordination. As group after group took the stage, she continued to be impressed by the talent and poise of the on-ship entertainers. Finally, one duet remained. The Paso Doble.

The lights dimmed and the audience hushed as one dancer stepped onto the stage.  Illuminated by a spotlight, he stood tall, erect, motionless. As the music began, his feet tapped out a complicated rhythm so quickly Sam could hardly keep track of them. He sauntered, spun, and slid across the stage, performing the intricate movements that reminded Sam of a bull fight. Only when he paused, arm outstretched, waiting for his partner to join him did Sam realize she had been holding her breath. As soon as their hands met, they were off again, twirling across the stage until the music reached its finale. The room fell silent, the dancers frozen in a passionate embrace. Before she realized what she was doing, Sam was on her feet, clapping wildly, her eyes still riveted on the dancers.  A gentle touch on her arm pulled her from the magic of the moment.  She looked down to see an uncommonly soft smile lighting Vanessa’s face. With a wave of the hand, Vanessa reminded her to take her seat. 

As she did so, Vanessa leaned forward to speak furtively in her ear, “You know, I used to be a dancer.” Sam lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “I was quite good too, but as usual a man got in the way.” Vanessa sighed half-regretfully. Sam imagined her buxom boss as a dancer, but found it impossible to visualize anything that didn’t include a pole. 

Vanessa continued, oblivious of Sam’s train of thought. “That doesn’t mean you can’t live your dream,” she said. Before Sam could reply, Vanessa raised a hand and motioned to the nearest waiter. He scuttled to her side, an inquisitive look on his brow. “My friend,” she said, gesturing toward Samantha, “would like to learn to dance like that,” she gestured toward the now empty stage. 

Sam envisioned herself as a young and awkward Frances (A.K.A Baby from Dirty Dancing) paired with the male from the last number as the hunky bad boy Johnny.  Coincidentally, his partner would be incapacitated for the rest of the cruise and he’d be forced to train her instead.  (What was unclear was why he wouldn’t select a partner from the 50-some-odd other well-trained dancers on hand, but why mess with a tried and true plotline?)  Through many clandestine training sessions he would transform her ungainly movements, and finally during the formal ball on the last evening of the cruise they would flout convention and display her new found dancing prowess and their undying devotion for one another.  She could hear the words, spoken in a husky tone, “Nobody puts Sam in the corner.”  

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the waiter replied politely, interrupting Sam’s reverie, “those services aren’t offered on this cruise.  But I’d be pleased to give your compliments to the dancers.”

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Thanks for dropping by!  For more on the adventures of Samantha and Vanessa, Finding Myself in Literature, Hostile Makeover, Dealing With Divas, and Diva Depressed. And the one where Samantha comes face to face with her dreamboat: The Meet-Cute.