Wonder of wonders - Jane wrote back promptly and even said 'yes'!! And so here is her article in which readers get to see Jane, the woman and the author she is today.
Many thanks to Ms. Porter from taking time away from her deadline (she's busily working on the next book due to release next year, so don't tell her editor she's playing hooky here!!) to come and do a guest blog post here at A Book Blogger's Diary.
Before you get the wrong end of the stick, I should tell you that the article is entirely hers, but the all photos are my inserts, taken from her fun website. I just couldn't resist!
I love writing for women. Frankly, I’m amazed by women. Of course I’m biased, but I think women are the cooler gender. I also think we’re the most confused, but that’s probably because Madison Avenue ad folks have figured out how to get to our heads—just tell us we’re not good enough. Convince us we need to be fixed. Sell us products with which to repair our damaged selves. And keep fixing our damaged selves.
That’s where I start frothing at the mouth. And that’s when I pull out my soap box and begin to beat my chest Tarzan style.
We women are cool. And we’re not messed up. We have just been sold a bunch of BS for a couple hundred years.
My job as a writer for women is to start peeling away the layers of lies. It’s to rake out the BS. It’s to poke fun at our fragile sense of self. It’s to challenge the notion that we’re not good enough.
Which is where my new books come in, particularly Mrs. Perfect, my May release.
Mrs. Perfect is a follow up to September’s Odd Mom Out. The books are linked, and Mrs. Perfect, like Odd Mom Out, explores the theme of appearances, self-image and what lies beyond the public image. We women tend to be so hard on each other and I wanted to write about two women who didn’t like each other, and yet were forced to deal with each other on a regular basis. I discovered that these women, although quite different from the other, actually had a lot in common. I also discovered that at the end of the day, we women have to be compassionate towards not just each other, but ourselves.
I wasn’t always so compassionate. I grew up rather hard on women, but that’s because I was brutal with myself. I couldn’t make mistakes. I couldn’t fail. I couldn’t bear to think I was flawed—and yet, God help me, I am one of the most flawed women in the universe. I’m intense and passionate, prickly, emotional, ambitious. And once I hit my late thirties, I thought—cool. I’m prickly passionate Jane and I’m going to start enjoying what I do well, and not worry about what I don’t do so well, and just be happy with me. The miracle was that by finally accepting me, I could accept everyone else.
Now I’m a bit of an evangelist. I preach more love, more laughter, more happiness in my books. I really want women to like themselves, to enjoy their lives, to savor their gifts, to forgive their weaknesses. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to live fulfilling, interesting lives.
Treat me to a Starbucks, so I can stay up late blogging my heart out!
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