This post is part of the Beauty of a Woman BlogFest VI! To read more entries, and potentially win a fun prize, visit on August’s McLaughlin’s site between today and 11pm PST March 11th.
As always, I want to thank August for the opportunity to contribute to her tour, and do encourage you to read the other entries!
I'm also using this little movie clip, from Desk Set, with Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy:
The reason for this is to show you all that, in anything I write, I associate many things with many things, and I cannot let my mind alone.
I was in the shower one morning and said, "There are not enough girl pirates in books." I quickly decided to write a little riff on The Count of Monte Cristo, using a girl protagonist, and having her become a pirate in order to exact her revenge.
But then my mind began to wander.
Women can be badass...or can they? We can seek adventure, be rough-and-tumble gals, thirst for excitement. We can laugh at death, just like men. Unlike men, however, we have one more primal fear: rape.
Yes, I know. Men are raped. Unless thousands of you guys tell me differently, however, I'm going to assume you don't walk down dark alleys fearing you'll be raped. Mugged, yes. Murdered, sure.
But it's us, the females, who have that small muscle in our gut that's always strung tight. It's that fear, That Fear, that keeps us from walking down the dark alley. We may be more afraid of being sexually assaulted than of being chopped into pieces.
My heroine, Lisette, is sold as a virgin to the pirate Rocco. I wanted her to be a bold, stubborn noblewoman, in a very fictional version of the 16th-century Caribbean. How do I handle THAT FEAR, and make her run toward danger, or at least stroll confidently in its direction?
I began by dismantling my own beliefs, my own fears, my own hangups about a woman's body, about virginity, and about how important physical touch is, in terms of utilizing all of our senses.
Once she is kidnapped, Lisette starts to question her virginity. Why is this such a sacred thing? No one waits for that special moment to say their first word, take their first step, eat their first solid food. You're ready to do it, so you just start. Why is that part of our real estate such hallowed ground, that we protect it and wait for The Right Someone (and in ye olde days, showed the stained sheets as proof on our wedding night)?
She begins to wish she was not a virgin anymore. In her words, "Just get it over with." Unfortunately, Rocco has some secrets of his own. Taking her as a lover is not exactly on his to-do list, at least not that he freely admits.
It doesn't stop her from exploring her sexuality. As she matures, she wonders why sensuality is such forbidden fruit. At one point, she asks, is it such a sin, to crave a man's touch more than, say, to enjoy a delicious meal or hear a pleasant tune?
Even as she questions what she's been taught, and rejects most of what she's learned, she still manages to experience sex on her own terms. As with many stories, she falls in love, it's complicated, and I expect it will have a happy ending--eventually. Did I mention my little riff grew up to be a trilogy?
Perhaps I let her off easy. The story is strewn with the bodies of men who try to rape her and fail. Perhaps I should have let one succeed. It is the reality for many women. As the writer, I would get to examine what kind of steel Lisette has in her backbone if she does not win one of these fights.
But this is a fantasy. My excuse is that I want her to be strong and smart and independent, and fight for what she believes, and win. I want her to embody that warrior in each of us. And a piece of me wants to open that introspective door in other women's minds--what do you really think about touch and sex and your body?
She's a pirate, yes, but in a way, she's also a superhero. All because I can't let my mind alone.
PS. I have completed the first book of the trilogy, a historical fantasy. Or perhaps it's a hysterical one--time will tell. It's currently in that state of Artistic Limbo: in the editor's hands, trying to be a book, while the Author and Editor decide whether to query an agent, look at small presses, self-pub, or toss the whole thing in the nearest bonfire. Wish me luck. Better yet, wish me the strength of a girl pirate.