It’s our first FELT TIPS guest post, and here to pop our cherry is the eloquent Michelle Ribaric. Michelle is author of the erotica short, All Work and No Play. Look for her and all the other amazing writers (and me!) in December for the first office supply themed erotica anthology. Kisses! Heather
I have a tricked out hand basket. It’s got a king sized bed, a Roman shower, a hot tub, along with a live-in gorgeous chef, a kick ass entertainment system and a few friends, preferably hot and wearing kilts. At least that’s my take on it. It also blares Highway to Hell at times just to annoy the neighbors.
So why do I have a hand basket at all you might ask? Well, as of December, I will be a totally published author; in the amazing anthology– FELT TIPS. But I’ll be a *gasp * EROTICA author. Thus the hand basket.
Well to get there, we need to go back to the beginning. I was born in the South; the rural South; the oops, that big metal thing you just tripped over darlin’? That was the Buckle of the Bible Belt. Yea. In addition to that my mother was a converted Catholic. Not the hey we go to church on Easter and Christmas. Not even the we go once a week and on Holy Days. Oh no. My mom became the one that goes to church 6 days a week, petitioned to have the masses back in Latin, and started doing pilgrimages to countries with shooting and land mines. And she sent me to Catholic school for grades 1-8. I still get twitchy when I see penguins. At least penguins don’t carry rulers.
So how did I get here? I argued as a kid – a lot. I argued with the nuns, priests, my mother, and I waited. Out of 313 graduating students I was the only one to leave the state. In other words, I ran and I ran fast. Then I began to research and ask questions and read more books. Books that weren’t allowed at home.
And I wrote. I had always dabbled in writing and loved it, but was told to pick a worthy career – my parents were horrified when I told them my top career choices I wanted were – author, chorus dancer in NY, and tennis pro. Seriously. They were NOT impressed. Imagine that. Anyway I kept writing – mystery, non-fiction, kids, and finally romance. But nothing that I ever considered “worthy” – enter that lovely “voice” in my head that sounded amazingly like a cross between my mother and one of the nuns I endured.
Then the internet happened – well the internet became available to the normal folk. And with that book came shops online, chat rooms, webpages, blogs, and boy did a whole world open up to me. I read things I had never heard of. And I liked them. And I wrote more, but kept it secret because that silly mindset of good girls don’t do this was still trapped in my head.
I met an amazing guy and married him. And he didn’t care if we had sex in a bed – there was the couch, the kitchen counter, the backyard, the car, etc. And we had fun, a lot of fun.
And after a few years the Universe decided I needed to have my turn at being a female Atlas and produced an amazing load for my shoulders. My father passed away and then my husband’s job, that we had moved to the West Coast for, laid him off. It took him a year to find a job and in the meantime, I worked part time jobs to keep us afloat. He found a job – 363 miles away and got a studio apartment while I kept our home going. Two years later my husband was home with a local job and we breathed again. Only to have the Fates let us know we were just getting started.
My remaining Aunt died; my great-uncle, that had been close to me after my grandfather had died when I was 9, died; we lost our 20, 19and 18 year old cats, my mother had a stroke; my big brother died unexpectedly and my sister – the stage 4 cancer survivor who had survived a major heart attack and had a pacemaker and a defib implanted – and I had to step up and handle everything. I flew back for a week at a time to the South every 4-5 weeks. I met with lawyers and financial people and helped take care of my mom. A year later mom died and my great “Auntie” passed as well leaving us to clean out houses, and deal with more things that I had never imagined. And I wrote. A LOT. I wrote in journals. I wrote letters that were never sent to folks that abandoned me during all of this or that went out of the way to hurt me. I wrote romance; I wrote sex; I wrote erotic romance, nonfiction, cookbooks, kid’s fiction. It helped to keep me sane and now, three years later, I’m still on those planes, although not as much, helping to bring in harvests and help out sis.
And here’s what that nightmare taught me: On a planet of 6 billion plus people those voices in my head represented less than maybe 10 – definitely less than 100 – I should never have listened to them. If you don’t reach for your dreams NOW, you may never get tomorrow. They are your dreams – therefore they are worthy of your time and your love and screw anyone – not in a good way, mind you – that tells you they are not. Every day you wake up is a chance – make of it what you can.
And after a glimpse, a thought, a chance – I grabbed it – Thank you very, very, much Tiffany!, and now, there’s no stopping me. Yes, the Universe keeps throwing things at me, but I’ve got a tricked out hand basket and I’m reaching for every dream I’ve got!
Michelle was born a Southern gal, and we all had farms. Worked everything from waiting tables, to being a vet tech, to working in a funeral home. Plans are to get back to the farm with Highland Cattle, Cashmere goats and a lot more. Love being ruled by animals; happily married and hoping to be an athlete again – oh and a writer, always a writer
Contact via Twitter:
Michelle BellRibaric