Through His Eyes

One thing I hadn't expected to evolve from my writing was the fact that I lean more towards story telling from the male lead's perspective. As a female author, this might not seem like the most obvious direction to narrate from, it certainly wasn't for me at first. After some quiet contemplation, I came to understand the reason behind it.

I am fascinated by the, often under appreciated and undervalued, beauty that is the masculine man. In a society that has put a lot more focus on broadening the scope of what being a man is, I think that as an unintended casualty, traditional masculinity has come under fire and, in some cases, even villianized. I believe in part due to how gravely traditionally masculine men are misunderstood.

Growing up, I believed that there was no stronger, smarter, or more righteous man than my father (and in many ways, nothing about that has changed.) I turned to him for every answer and every source of comfort for a very long time. I was, in every sense of the word, a daddy's girl. For most of my childhood I thought that he was super human, but as I began to take notice of his softer side, I realized that strength wasn't that straight forward. When our Doberman, Grendel, passed away, I saw my father cry for the first time. It was a poignant moment in my life seeing this pillar of strength that held up my world soften under the weight of his love for a beloved companion. It was in that moment that I realized he was much more complex than just a strong and intelligent man. He was tender and nurturing too, though anyone who wasn't looking for it might easily have missed these equally powerful traits.

In time, as I grew up, I saw different layers of my father exposed, and I continue to see more with every passing day. I saw the God loving man who turned to his Father for answers and peace. The brother and the son who stepped up when his family needed him to get through the difficult times no one could have predicted or prepared for. The leader and protector of the women in his life. A father of all girls who he raised with warmth and tenderness while also instilling strength. A man who never turned his back on the mothers of his children. A man unafraid to stand up for what he believed was right, even at the cost of losing his anonymity. The man who, when looking for a dependable partner in the male dominated industry of conveyor engineering, didn't hesitate before hiring a woman to work alongside him.

It comes as no surprise that when I met my husband it was important to me that I feel safe around him, protected, and provided for. In fact, I distinctly remember during a trip to New York City being afraid that I wouldn't feel as safe with him as I did when I had been to the city with my dad. When I did feel safe and he navigated his way through the streets of the big city without so much as a fraction of doubt, I remember feeling a very tangible sense of relief. He had passed the test. He was the kind of man I could fall into the arms of and not be afraid. At the same time, I had been raised by a man who had taught me how to walk in my own strength. Over the past seventeen years, I have seen similar contrasts of strength and tenderness in my husband that I always have in my father.

And it is this beautifully masculine mixture that I often convey in my novels. I'm so fascinated by the raw beauty of masculinity in fact, that I indulge in exploring it from the inside out. While traditionally masculine men tend to have hardened exteriors, once you peel back the layers, the complexity of who they are as a whole can be truly bewitching. It is that unexpected depth that I seek to unearth in my writing. I respect that image and honor it so deeply that it's the place I feel most comfortable telling my stories from. In many ways, telling stories from this perspective is an ode to the two men in my life who have always made me feel safe, loved, and cherished. Not only have they both made it clear that they will always protect me, they've also left no question to the fact that they know me to be fully capable of protecting myself.