(Dad is actually one of my subject-matter experts for all my writing, even the stuff that goes under the professional pseudonym; I run all the car details by him starting early in the writing process -- sometimes as early as the outlining stage -- and then have him double check the details. Sometimes this is only a line or two in a short story, though a novel like Werewolves in Love which has a mechanic main character is a lot more work for him. He's also one of my musician consultants, because he's a guitarist.)
The amusing part of all this is that neither of my parents actually likes what I write. I mean, not my work, but the genres and styles. They are both readers, but neither are fans of horror or monsters or paranormal romance or whatever. They don't really read teen fiction, either. Basically, the only reason they read my work is because it's mine, which is really sweet and supportive. I mean, Monsters & Music is teen fiction about a girl who can see the ghosts of murdered people and who ends up in the middle of some werewolf politics, and Dad has pretty much zero interest in any of those things, but was super supportive anyway.
I love that, even though they aren't interested in the genre, they are always eager to read more. My parents are awesome.
This reminds me of a story I shared with bewize the other day, but meant to share here, too. I was outlining the end of the chapter I'm currently writing for Monsters & Music and realized there was going to be some serious making out and fooling around. For a moment, I was all, oh, Mom and Dad are going to read that, they're aren't really for sexually active teens, kinda awkward. Then I remembered it was ridiculous to be nervous, because a) I believe in my characters and their actions and support that but also b) they've already read the masturbation scene anyway, so how in the world was kissing awkward?
I'm entertained by us.
I'm sometimes amazed by how close Dad and I are, considering how different our beliefs. I was telling him about Obama speaking at graduation, and made sure to reassure him that it wasn't the same ceremony Dad's attending, because he's not interested in hearing Obama speak, while I'm thrilled about it. For some reason, we started talking about politics, too, and health care reform, and tax reform, which gets us both riled up, but in the end, even though I so deeply disagree with a lot of things, he still supports me completely.
I think the point I'm getting at here is how incredibly lucky I am to have such amazing parents.
Actually, this is sort of an aside to a rant I'm drafting about adoption stories and how frustrated I've been with them in the media these days. I should finish that up and post it, maybe Thursday. (Wednesdays are busy days for me at school.)
Dad actually wanted to talk to me today because he got his passport for our bar trip and was giddy with excitement about it. I'm giddy, too. While we were talking about it, he said he no longer thinks our original schedule is enough, he wants to more than double the time we'll be out together. I told him I was free from August 1 to November 1, so however long he wants to make this roadtrip, I'm game.
Basically, this entry can be summed up as this: My family, totally awesome.