A couple of months ago, I got to spend some quality time with two of my nieces, which was an extraordinary treat. They live in New York. I don’t. In fact, I live far, far away in a little tiny town that probably has more cows than people. Not that I have a cow, but that’s beside the point. One afternoon when my 27 year-old niece and I were talking, I realized just how much age and distance changes perspective.

It’s been a while since I was 27, but as she was lamenting the sad state of her love life, I was instantly taken back to those days I had been so like her. She’s very successful career-wise. In fact, she’s an attorney, was valedictorian of her class at NYU law school, and now works for a non-profit dealing in restorative justice. She’s beautiful, and I’m not just saying that because I adore her, she really is. Funny, kind, bright, thoughtful. Any man would be lucky to be with her, and it’s hard for me to believe there’s one worthy enough. Now that, I admit, I say with complete prejudice.

At her age, I was like that. Successful in my career, driven, bright, focused. But I constantly lamented my lack of love and was steeped in self-doubt and low self-esteem, even though I tried hard to hide that fact. Now, when I look at pictures of myself at that age, I’m amazed at what a hottie I was. Seriously, I had no idea.

How did I not know I was a babe? How did I not see all the terrific things I had going for me? I know now it was because I was looking through a distorted window. I’m sure there must be some young people who see themselves clearly. Wait, no, I doubt that. I think that’s part of being young. We don’t see ourselves yet because we haven’t become our true selves yet. So I muddled through, just as my niece is muddling. She can’t see it yet. But the good part, for me back then and for her now, is that she knows who she wants to be. She has role models, and not just the few people out there who’ve made headlines.

A very cool (and sometimes weird if I think about it too much) thing is that she reads Blaze books. Loves them. She reads my Blazes. Eeek! I think it’s great that she does, because in today’s romance novels, particularly Blazes, I believe she can find really wonderful role models. Strong women who aren’t ashamed of their sexuality, who are out to make a difference, who learn to see themselves as deserving of love. Not just deserving, but worthy of the best. She’s reading about men who need to work at it to get their women. The heroes have to transform just as much, if not more, as the heroines.

I want her to believe that about herself. I want all the women who read Blazes to believe that about themselves. Therefore, it’s crucial to me that I write heroines and heroes of substance. Books that don’t trivialize either the sexual journey or the emotional journey. Not that they can’t be fun books, or funny books, in fact, humor and joy are important aspects of painting a picture a reader can believe in.

As I continue to write for Blaze, I feel this responsibility more and more acutely. These books, I believe, are the fundamental novels of so many, many womens’ lives. They’re not the flashy Oprah books or the one’s people write their theses about. (Although there’s nothing wrong with those). Romance novels are the bread and butter, the solid foundations. They are accessible and relatable and the ideas and values in them become part of a person’s core beliefs. I’ve seen too much proof from readers and writers to believe differently. I do not for one moment think these are trashy little books, or that they’re in some way not real books. These are the books that help create who we are. Not every book will become part of a readers’ character, but any book can.

I’m delighted to say that my editor and I have just come to agreement on five more books, and those will be coming out in 2010 and 2011. I’m excited and nervous, because I want to write women who are real, who face real dilemmas, who overcome real obstacles in a believable way. And who not only get the heroes, but who get a new perspective on who they are and their intrinsic worth. It’s a tall order, and one I’m not sure I can fulfill, but I’m going to give it my best shot.

I know for me, my life has been so informed and shaped by reading that it’s impossible to separate books from the rest of my life. Not just my current career, but every job I’ve held, every dream I’ve had, every goal I’ve fought to achieve. Books, much more than school itself, and probably just a bit less than my nuclear family, have been an enormous influence. I know that’s true for other people – lots of other people – as well. Can you even imagine a life without books? Can you picture your teenage years if you hadn’t been a reader? I’d love to know how books have influenced your lives. How they’ve changed you and how they’ve become entwined in the fabric of your days. What do you know now that you didn’t know then? Growing up with role models who strive to be the best they can be made me work harder, dare more. Is that true for you, too? I bet it is.

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 19th, 2009 at 6:00 am and is filed under Jo Leigh. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.