What if the heroine was a you-either-love-her-or-hate-her type celebutante with a pet dog? (Using mental picture of Paris Hilton here.) What if the bodyguard was a tough and rough ex-commando guy? (Picturing Russell Crowe in Gladiator.) What if he'd been burned by a celebrity lover in the past and wouldn't go near another of that group with a ten feet pole? But he has to when he receives a direct order. And to add insult to injury, his assignment isn't even to guard her. It's to guard her pet Poodle!

 

There are thoughts of murder in play even before the bad guys arrive :-) These two set off a dangerous amount of sparks. There are times when it takes a few days of writing before the chemistry ignites between my hero and heroine. No such trouble with these two. I just had to sit back and take notes as they circled each other, then I had to get out of the way when the inevitable clashes came. I had so much fun writing the book, it was like an early Christmas present. (And the cover turned out pretty good, too, although it seems the art department hadn't been able to reach Russel. ) Of course, now that the book is finally out. (THE SOCIALITE AND THE BODYGUARD) I'm on pins and needles waiting to find out if anyone else likes it as much as I do.

 

Normally, I have a December writing deadline and the holidays pass in a blur. (Write. Bake. Write. Buy presents. Write. Visit people. Write. Clean for visitors. Edit. Wrap presents. Edit some more. etc.) But this year, for the first time since I've been published, I'm done with the next book and can take some time to relax. A whole new world is opening up here! I'll even have time to paint. Yay! That has been going well lately. I wanted to paint for as long as I wanted to write, but since I like shoes on my feet and food in the fridge even more, I kept both on the backburner while I went to work in an office. Eventually, the need to write became stronger than even the need to eat and I took some pretty hairy chances. All turned out well and I ended up getting published. Nobody was more surprised than I was, believe me. So I was feeling pretty darn grateful over the last couple of years and not about to push my luck by asking for the painting thing, too. I felt it would be too greedy. Now and then, when I couldn't take it anymore, I'd sneak away for half a day (never allowing more) between two books and paint something that would keep the urge at bay for another few months until I finished the next book.

 

Then not long ago a friend told me that if you had a very strong desire to do something with your life, you were probably meant to do it. Sure, I thought. Serial killers probably tell themselves the same. But the idea stayed on my mind. Then this September a weekly art class opened nearby. On Saturdays, negating my usual excuse that I will not give up my M-F writing time for anything. And it was free, eliminating the money excuse as well. So after 20 yrs of putting off painting, I joined. I cannot tell you what it feels like to sit there and give myself permission to be an artist. The same sheer, unadulterated joy that I felt when I was laid off from my office job and gave myself permission to write full time instead of rushing out to find myself another gray cubicle somewhere in the corporate jungle. Our class had our first show at a gallery last weekend. It’s amazing how much we’ve grown in just a few short weeks. The mayor of the town where the class is held gave the welcome speech for the visitors. And then… he came over to me, told me how much he liked one of my paintings and bought it. It will hang at city hall.

 

And I just found out this morning that another picture of mine won a contest in another town and will be used as their official Christmas card for this year. They’ll be printing it and selling it for charity.

 

So here is something I learned in 2009: It’s good to break up the pieces of our comfortable lives and add new ones, shuffle everything every once in a while. You never know what beautiful picture will emerge next.

 

Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season,

 

Dana Marton