EMLY FORREST: The Problem With Cougars

My friend Teresa wants a man. “Someone to share dinner or a movie, so I’m not the odd person out anymore,” she tells me. “A companion, a partner, and, okay, maybe a romantic liaison.” She states specifics: no dirty finger nails, no physical problems that might turn her into a caregiver, no deadbeats. Never mind that Teresa is old enough to be my mother (and I’m no teenager).

“Have you tried the Senior Center?” I offer helpfully. “Or what about a singles group?”

She gives me a look that says she’s sure I’ve lost my mind and then informs me that older men want younger women. By “younger,” she means someone my age. It’s relative of course.

Teresa’s daughter, a fine artist who makes her home in Mexico, advises Teresa that her problem is more about geography than chronology. Mexican men—actually Mexican folks of either gender—are not as age-conscious as most Americans seem to be. “They don’t see a problem with a fifty-year-old woman dating a twenty-five-year old man.” And she goes on to explain that it’s not only acceptable, but quite common.

Could this be true? Certainly, Americans are fixated on youth. Witness the thousands of women and (yes, it’s true) men who undergo the knife to undermine the wrinkles. Try to buy a magazine that is not filled with ads for creams and lotions that promise a smoother more youthful complexion. But is it possible that folks in other countries are not as obsessive about staying young as we are?

And if that’s true, is it possible that there are no cougars in these other countries? By “cougar,” I’m talking the woman-of-a-certain-age variety, not the animal. I’m guessing that if the age thing turns out to be mostly an American concept, then the idea of “cougar” would have little meaning in other countries. Maybe they even laugh at our notions of what’s acceptable.

While I try not to think of myself as a woman-of-a-certain-age (and what age is that exactly?), my doctor reminds me that I might be at each annual checkup. My petty physical complaints and pleas for understanding and relief are usually met with a pat on the knee and the assurance “Well, when we reach a certain age...” She’s letting me know that I’m falling apart slowly and there’s little she can do about it.

The upside, then, may be that I’m cougar material. Can there be a gorgeous dark-skinned lothario across the border who might find me irresistible? Is he willing to overlook a few mild frown lines, a slightly poochy tummy, and a drooping derriere because I’m witty, experienced and kind? I may never find out. But I like to keep the fantasy alive.

Perhaps that’s why I write about cougars. It’s my way of living the dream without doing irreparable harm to my marriage. But I’m particular about the “cougarness” of my cougars. First and foremost, no “Real Housewives” stuff. I don’t believe those woman are any more real than the folks that enliven Jerry Springer-type shows. My cougars must be women we all might know. Maybe even us.

Take Jessica Grandville from my novella Irish Ice, for example. Sure, she’s beautiful and has a good-paying job. But she’s also a single mom, bored with her life and ready to be romanced, whether she realizes it or not. Who couldn’t relate?

And then, there’s the matter of younger men. They should never be childish. Or too innocent (or even better, not innocent at all). In fact, as Jess finds out, some younger men may be more mature, more sensitive and more serious than a lot of older men. The point is, age is just a number. And there’s no accounting for attraction and no limits on love.

So, what do I tell my friend Teresa? This is me, shrugging. And hoping that someday she travels to Mexico to discover that her daughter was right all along. I hope she invites me along.

Interview with Emly Forrest

Today I'm sitting down with Emly Forrest, author of The Last Resort.

Clara: You write primarily contemporary romance. Tell us a little why you chose to write in this genre.

Emly: They always say "Write what you know" and I only know the thoughts and feelings of contemporary women. I suppose that nothing much has changed over the years in the way women fall in love, but I prefer to speak in the voice of a twenty-first century woman. that said, I do believe that social mores and conventions influence love as much as any other aspect of life. I'm most comfortable with those of our times and with the freedom and acceptability of sexual expression that has evolved in the last thirty or forty years.



Clara: What did it feel like to get your first acceptance?

Emly: I couldn't stop jumping up and down and laughing. I had to read the acceptance message four times to really believe that it wasn't a rejection. It was umbrella-drinks-at-the-beach good.


Clara: What is the best (and worst) part of the writing process?

Emly: What I love most is that zone that I fall into when writing where the characters take over and begin to say and do things that I hadn't really planned or intended. It's nearly mystical for me. The worst part is when I reread something I've written and can only think, "Crap, that really sucks!"


Clara: How long does it typically take you to finish a story?

Emly: Not sure I have an answer to that. The Last Resort (Lyrical Press 2010) evolved over several years. My latest story Irish Ice (a novella, Lyrical Press March 2011) came together very quickly and easily in a month or so. A novel I'm currently working on rolled out very quickly at first, but now I'm stuck on the last few chapters. I guess it all depends on that pesky muse.


Clara: Do you have any favorites out of the characters you've written?

Emly: I'm very much in love with Lee Soloman, the biker bad boy from The Last Resort. He's based on a man I knew many years ago and have never quite forgotten. I've always hoped he never quite forgot me as well.


Clara: Which writers inspired/influenced your work?

Emly: I wouldn't be so bold as to even suggest that some of my favorite authors allowed me to produce work as fine as theirs. I can only aspire to their greatness. However, those I love include James Lee Burke, Barbara Kingsolver, Annie Proulx, Stephen King, Dennis Lehane, and Pete Hamill.


Clara: Was there ever a point in your career where you said, "Yeah, I can do this!"?

Emly: Maybe I'm overconfident, but I guess I never thought I couldn't do it. I've been writing and editing for the biggest part of my long professional life (and making a pretty good living at commercial writing), so I knew I had a least a bit of talent. I wasn't quite as sure about writing fiction, but I've never been known to shy away from challenge.


Clara: Was there ever a point in your career where you almost gave up writing?

Emly: Never. It wasn't an option. Even if I never published a work of fiction, I'd still keep doing it. Writing is the only talent I have--modest though it may be. It's a part of me. Just something I have to do.


Clara: How do you come up with your stories?

Emly: My husband and my friend Jan provide my biggest story inspirations. They throw stuff at me--some of which makes little sense at the time--and I try to work it into a story. For instance, one time my husband told me about a dream he'd had involving two guys named Nacho Nate and Big Bob the Mover. I've not put them into a story yet, but I know they're lurking there waiting to be developed.


Clara: What do you do to overcome writer's block?

Emly: Keep writing. Even if I know what I'm writing stinks. I make myself write at least 500 words a day--good, bad or otherwise. No excuses and no backing down. I can always go back and rewrite or delete later.


Clara: Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?

Emly: Write every day. Read a lot. Don't listen to anyone who tells you your work is no good. It's only their opinion. I was privileged to attend the University of Denver Publishing Institute years ago. At one of our classes, a publisher at a major house told about rejecting the manuscript for Jonathan Livingston Seagull, which was published by another house and became wildly successful financially. It seemed like a stupid story idea, but you just never know what's going to take hold and sell. At the same time, do pay attention to critiques of your work by friends, family and critique partners. Good advice is invaluable to good writing.


Clara: Thank you for joining me, Emly! Visit Emly online at www.emlyforrest.com.


Be sure to stop by next week to hear about Larion Wills and her story It's Still Tomorrow.

Clara.

EMLY FORREST: Why Love Matters

“It’s only love and that is all.” So goes the Lennon and McCartney song. Only love. Not some earth-shattering event. And yet, so much of our music, literature and mythology circumscribe the theme of love.

Take for example, the catalyst of love as it figures in ancient mythology. Gods and men seem to be in constant turmoil because of romantic jealousy or spurned attentions. An entire war was fought over Helen of Troy. How cool is that?

Well, you might argue, that can’t really be proven. It may only be a legend. Nice story, but would anyone really go that far simply for love? I offer, then, the case of King Edward VII, who in 1936 abdicated the throne of England to marry Wallis Simpson, an American divorcee. No one could argue the depth of his feeling for the woman he wanted.

And while some are willing to die for love (Romeo and Juliet), others find comedic pleasure in pairing (Lucy and Ricky). Sometimes the whole thing is tragic beyond belief, as with Dr. Zhivago and the ill-fated Laura.

So why the big deal? Why are love and romance so important to us? They are important because...well, because they just are. No one is immune. Kings and paupers, wise men and fools. We are all looking for that unexplainable, sometimes painful, joy, sorrow, ache and thrill called love.

Perhaps the next best thing to being in love is reading about it. Or maybe writing about it, which is what I am privileged to do. When you write a romance, you can make it happen any way you choose. (Unlike real life, which—as we all know—often goes awry.) I can make a hunky bad boy fall inexplicably in love with a not-exactly-gorgeous wallflower. They can meet in the craziest scenario, hate each other and then decide they can’t live without one another.

If I want, I can craft a plot with a case of mistaken identity that forces a rift in a liaison. Or I can send the hero to prison (wrongly, of course), then have him released years later only to find that his love for one woman still endures (as well as hers for him).

Maybe it’s a sweet story about a married couple sharing an unbreakable bond of love and romance for a lifetime. Or a tempestuous affair that seems unlikely to last, but works out in the end.

These things don’t normally happen in the average person’s life. That’s why we’re so drawn to reading about impossible attraction and implausible endings.

When I write about romance, I draw from real life stories, either my own or those I’ve heard about. In my novel, The Last Resort, for example, I chose a protagonist who finds herself suddenly on her own after a bitter divorce. She has some road adventures, buys an RV park on the Gulf Coast and eventually reunites with a lover from her past. Not that all those things have happened to me personally. Nor to anyone I know. However, bits of Murph’s story come from many different people I know. And yes, even from my own experience.

And what about Happily Ever After? The rule for HEA is a marriage or at least committed relationship. In fact, most publishers and readers don’t consider a story to be a romance unless there is HEA. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an absolute necessity. In Murph’s case, her HEA is a man to share her bed and be her companion. She’s a little old to expect or even need more than that. Does that mean it’s not a romance? Not in my book—literally and figuratively.

Do I have any rules for writing romance? Sure. Above all else, the focal characters must be likable and identifiable. They’ve got to be “real.” And their time together must be electric. I want readers to be drawn into the vortex of sexual attraction, feeling the irresistible pull toward something that may or may not be well advised. In a love story, of course, it won’t matter and can’t be helped.

In my soon-to-be released novella Irish Ice (Lyrical Press, March 2011), the protagonist is pursued by a man nine years her junior. She’s not looking for love. In fact, she resists the advances of the handsome stranger. Ultimately, of course, he wins her over despite her fears that he may be involved in some deadly activities.

For me, that’s the fun of writing romance. Do I really want an affair with a dangerous younger man? Nope. Am I interested in chucking my cozy life, starting all over and finding sexual adventure on the road? Not at all. But I sure like to imagine it. And I’m guessing you do, too.