February 14, 2014
Valentine’s Day. You may be wondering why a cozy mystery writer was assigned the task of writing a blog on the most romantic day of the year. I am asking myself the same question. Among the classic and cozy authors are many talented romance writers, why am I writing the blog?
I don’t think about pressed lips, eyes dilating with desire, or damsels in distress. I don’t visualize cupids, floral tributes, or heart shaped boxes of chocolates. I don’t dream in red, pink and white. Lace and hearts aren’t my thing. My mind doesn’t work that way.
At the check out counter I’m likely to contemplate ways to murder the woman with the fist full of coupons. If I glance toward the man behind me, it isn’t to imagine whether his embrace will send shivers up and down my spine. I’m wondering if he would be better cast as the hero or the bit part villain in my next novel.
The one aspect of Valentine’s Day that intrigues me is passion. (Again, not the man-woman passion.) My definition focuses on the inner feeling of doing something you are so devoted to that you leap out of bed at four in the morning to begin. I’m talking about the thrill of doing that one thing with fervor, to shout to the world about your commitment.
Unfortunately not everyone finds their passion at the age of twenty one. Sometimes life interferes with the path to your heart’s destiny. A career that pays the bills or family needs can waylay the journey. For that reason, many people find their passion in their later years. No matter what the age, the important thing is to find it.
Living a stagnant life is an impediment to the destination. Get out and explore the opportunities available. Make opportunities. It isn’t necessary to join the Peace Corp or volunteer at a hospice, although those acts can be rewarding time fillers until your passion comes along or they may become your destiny. You must keep an open heart and mind to the opportunities.
Your passion may not be the neighbor’s idea of a good time. Be true to yourself. A close friend was heavily into making jewelry. Another friend filled her spare bedroom with everything needed to create scrapbooks. While I wanted to spend time with those people, I wasn’t willing to wile away the hours pasting doodads on paper or stringing beads on a wire. They likewise can not understand my need to tell a story.
I am fortunate. I have found my passion. It came after my children were raised and my career was on autopilot. It fills my soul with excitement each morning. It is the first thing I tell people. I am a writer.
This Valentine’s Day enjoy the romance, but seek your passion.
Matrimony and Murder
Murder on a Park Bench
A Seminar on Murder (March, 2014)
Facets of Murder
Clarity of Murder
Cut of Murder (October, 2014)