The Mister as inspiration
All right, are you in for a bit of swooning? On my part, not necessarily on yours. When I posted this video, my husband, who doesn't read my books but is subscribed to my Instagram, reacted with, 'Your feet? What about me?' And to be honest, he has quite a substantial influence on me and my writing, so here's one for the Mister!
Me: I need an interesting character trait.
Mister Bakker: A love of all things lilac. Falls for men with a double name. Works in a warehouse.
That is him all over. Helpful, but not. No, that's not right. Helpful when I need him to be, but not when he feels I'd do a better job myself. Such as when I'm looking for an interesting character trait. However, when there's something like a house move involved, I'm absolutely useless.
Me: Oh no! Change! Change is happening, people. Engage panic mode. Play dead! That'll help.
Fortunately, Mister Bakker is the practical one. He'll be the Monica to my Rachel. Funny how those roles invert when it comes to admin...
Because my husband is an artist. This is great when it comes to the creation side of my book work, because he knows what it's like to be creative and to feel accomplished when you've made something. He's always given me all the support in that. Even though he doesn't always understand the entrepreneurial side of my book business, because he works for a boss and I'm my own boss, he's been amazing in letting me try to find my own way.
An artist with a boss? Yes, he makes video games. All those digital buildings and streets in the background? That's his job. He makes them, sometimes he plans where they go, and sometimes, he destroys them. Like for instance in a shooting game, the buildings also have to have a state in which they've been shot. His work is paradoxical like that: he creates destruction.
It's the planning bit that boggles my mind, though, because in real life, he can be a bit... artistic, while I work in a library. His bookshelves are a librarian's nightmare. I like everything in its place, but he's an artist. I wouldn't call myself that. I'm a storyteller, but my stories are highly structured, believe it or not. But I've tried to order those bookshelves, and they were in disarray again within a month. Just like in the library, I suppose.
I found out, at some point, that the Mister loaded up the dishwasher with rinse aid every time he very sweetly helped out when I went to work. I kindly corrected him with not too much laughter and felt very good about myself afterwards. It's nice to know that not everything runs as smoothly when I'm gone as he would have me believe.
If you've read my books, that story may remind you of two characters from the village of Saint-Maurice. Monsieur Vray and Madame Dufaux? Yeah, that's us. Or rather, I vented about the little domestic annoyances through Madame Dufaux. But then I also called them Mister Right and Madam Wrong. Not that I feel he's right to do these things, but they're really not important. And if I project them onto my characters, I can laugh about them!
He tells me what a fantastic couple we are if we've both slept well.
His taste in music varies from the Lord of the Rings version of Heigh ho, through pirate shanties on steroids, all the way to parents-after-months-of-lockdown (I'm talking screamy metal).
There are two boys with blue coats at school. Mine will always be the one walking in the opposite direction from all the other kids. That's his dad's genes showing.
But if he's so great, why doesn't he read your work?
Because he just can't help himself. When I wrote The Jet Jewel, his gaze fell on the phrase 'resting on the edge of my corset', and his immediate reaction was, 'She's carrying it with her boobs!'
My subtleties and euphemisms are wasted on him.
Then again, that same book contained a character called Lord North, who was a direct product of one of his jokes. I can't even remember where we picked up the name, but Mister Bakker did the voice and Lord North became some kind of Victorian Darth Vader, doing all the dastardly deeds you can possibly think of. I had to put him in!
Also, he drew me that cover.
So, my wonderful husband, who will probably never read this, has had his moment in my spotlight. I hope you appreciate him as much as I do. Or a little less, that's fine too. Probably healthy. Hands off, he's mine!