Today MamaWriters is pleased to host Vanessa Kelly, debut Regency romance author and  . . . stepmother.  She’s here to talk about the unique challenges she’s faced, how they’re not so different from writing romance.

Please welcome Vanessa Kelly!

THE WICKED STEPMOTHER

Yep, that’s me.  Exhibit A.  Just like in the fairy tale.  I came to step-motherhood later in life, and with no biological children of my own to prepare me for the experience.  Launched into the fray—and I do mean fray—with almost no idea how to handle my two new stepsons.

The older boy was away from home at university, so I was able to feel my way through that relationship in careful, fairly short chunks of time.  But my youngest stepson was living at home with his father, after watching his parents split up, moving out of the home he had lived in for most of his life, and just starting school at our local university.

You can imagine how he felt when this woman he barely knew moved in with him and his dad.  Angry.  I’ll never forget the day when he told his dad and me that living with us was like living in a hell-hole.  Now, this was a hell-hole with a lovely bedroom and bathroom all to himself, his own car, and a dad who still did his laundry.  It sounds pretty over-the-top now, but at the time he meant every word of it.  And who could blame him?  His entire world had been rocked on its axis, and would never be the same again.

How did I feel?  Terrified.  In a panic, and often teetering on the edge of despair.  I was starting something completely new and didn’t have a clue what I was doing.  The stakes were high and the chance of failure better than even odds.  Some things were in my control, but others weren’t, and those things that I couldn’t control really frustrated the hell out of me.  There were days when I felt depressed and paralyzed, and more than ready to give up.

Hmm, now that I think about it, that sounds a bit like writing a romance novel, doesn’t it?  I was standing on the brink of the unknown, trying to figure out how to create something meaningful from conflict, overwhelming obstacles, and all kinds of ramped-up emotion and drama.  And like a romance novel, I wanted the end result to be an expression of love—overcoming all difficulties to win a happily-ever-after for my new family.

How did I do it?  Well, it was messy, just like writing can be messy.  I made a lot of mistakes.  I wasn’t past offering bribes—cold, hard, cash bribes.  I was forced to be creative as I tried different ways to get past the barriers we all seemed to build up around ourselves.  I cried, I yelled, I paced the floor, I stared out windows, I talked, thought, and talked some more.  With my friends, with my sister, with my own stepmother, with my husband.  And, most importantly, with my stepson.  Torrents of words.  Some that worked, and some that didn’t.  But what I didn’t do—what none of us did—was give up.  We stuck with each other, made adjustments, and endured.  We wrote our own narrative in our own time and way, and I’m glad to say that it finally worked.  I’d open a vein for my stepsons, and for the rest of the extended family that came with them, including their mom.  And I know they would do the same for me.

Blending families is hard, creative work—like writing.  It requires a careful balancing of many elements into one alchemical brew, but if you’re lucky something magical does happen.  You create a new family, a new work in progress.  It doesn’t replace the old one, but grows upward from all the strengths and weaknesses that came before.

If there’s one lesson I learned from being a stepmother that I would apply to my writing, it’s the lesson of persistence.  Do not give up.  If you value this thing you say you’re committed to—if you really love it—do not give up.  You can’t create magic unless you show up every day; butt in chair, kick-starting your brain and your heart into action.  No matter what obstacles may stand in your path.

My history with my extended family eventually found its way into my writing.  My stories are littered with stepmothers, half-sisters, adopted grandparents, and friends who are so devoted they really are part of the family.  I might be tempted to call these families non-traditional, except for the fact that they’ve existed for centuries.  Heck, in the 18th century the Duchess of Devonshire even raised her husband’s illegitimate children in her own household.

Because at the end of the day it’s all about love and the ties that bind us, in whatever non-traditional forms those ties may take.  And, in my humble opinion, that’s the best kind of story of to write.

So what about you?  What kinds of non-traditional relationships exist in your family?  And do you find that experience coloring your writing?  Any shapeshifters or vampires out there in the family mix?  Don’t be afraid to share!