Its a colourless world today

As I look out the window this morning, the gray sky blends into the snowy landscape.  It looks as if we could get more snow at any time, although the forecast says not until this evening.   This is the time of year when everything is dormant, and all I want to do is curl up until the sun returns.

Something I didn't realize until I started to dye my hair purple is how faded my complexion became as I aged.   Back in the glory days, I took my appearance for granted and generally ran around with eyeliner and a touch of mascara.  Now I need to add blush, lipstick and a bit of eye makeup to my daily routine in order too live up to the purple hair. 

It feels good to spend time in the morning looking at my face in the mirror and improving my appearance.  I understand that how I look reflects how I feel about myself, and I have the right to look good.  For many years I was the only female in the household.  I rushed about mothering sons and volunteering at schools.  I lived in sports bras, tube socks, bluejeans and t shirts.  My hair was short and barely needed to be combed.  There was absolutely no lace, no makeup, definitely no frills allowed in my life.  My entire self worth was based on my children, and the internal me almost totally disappeared.

Now, my life is less busy.  My focus has turned inwards, and my appearance reflects a new care and attention.  It feels really good to have reached this island of calm, this appreciation of myself and reevaluation of what I choose to offer to the world.  And yes, I deliberately choose to have purple hair, to be happy and as much as possible cheerful with everyone I meet.  It may not feel like a big deal to me to smile at someone, but it may make a difference to them.

Yesterday it was interesting to see that I could name several female authors off the top of my head, but Terry Pratchett was the lone male author.  I spent some time thinking about that, and concluded that I do read more books written by women than by men.  However, Andrew Vachs, Ian Hamilton, James Lee Burke, George R. R. Martin, Jim Butcher are writers that I follow faithfully.  I have also enjoyed Dick and Felix Francis, Len Deighton, John Le Carre and Ken Follett. 

I'm not sure when or why the focus of my reading turned to female writers, and female protagonists.  I find the thoughts and attitudes more sympathetic, more believable.  An exception to this general rule is Ian Hamilton's Ava Lee series.  Ava is a forensic accountant who specializes in recovering funds for businessmen who have managed to lose their money under murky circumstances.  The characters and clients are oriental, and their world fascinates me.  I have no idea how realistic this series is, but it is fast moving and believable.  It reminds me of The Geisha Diary, by Kenneth Alfred Edward Noyle.  The character in his book, Minori, was very believable and the entire world was well written.  Both male authors have developed an interesting female character that I identified with.


Do you have a preference?  Do you find authors can write realistically about a protagonist of the opposite sex?  Do you prefer reading books written by members of your own sex, or are you happy reading either one?