How old are you really?

So when I’m galloping around and swiveling my hips in Zumba (Latin-Hip-Hop aerobic dance) class at my gym, I picture myself at that age, with no wrinkles or saggy neck skin or knee dimples. Which is also, by the way, why I stay back from the gym mirrors. Fuzzy vision is my friend, ahem.

In fact, when I go out to a restaurant or bar or a party and catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror I always hesitate…who is this woman? Not the smooth-cheeked, glittery-eyed, perky blonde with the trim figure in my head, but a slightly worn out female with a hopeful expression but signs of…age. Sigh.

What age are you locked into in your head? Do you know why you stuck at that age? For me, I think I was at the crossroads of insecure youth and the sky’s-the-limit adulthood at the time.

Of course it took a few more years for me to really become an adult (and some would say I still have a ways to go) and a few more to achieve my dream of being a full-time novelist, but the journey began in earnest that year of my life.

And now I see no end in sight to the stories I want to tell about my late-twenties heroines. I just sent off two new story ideas to my editor, am working on the galleys for my first SuperRomance, A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS, out in November and expect revisions any day to HOME TO HARMONY, to be released in January.

So maybe a 27-year-old spirit in an, um, well, older body is not so bad after all!
All my best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com