Getting Back to Business

     I opened this blog site and was astonished at what I saw. I knew it had been a while since my last post. But nearly 2-1/2 years? Really? Yes, really. But, why?
    As I reflect on those missing years, I understand why my heart was not interested in blogging. I kept up Twitter and Facebook, but not blogging.
    If you are amongst those who had followed my blog in the past, you may remember that I wrote posts from the heart. Travelling and writing. Riding and writing. Writing and writing.
    Sadly, my heart was broken 2 years ago when my Dad passed away. He left an enormous hole in my heart, for he was not just my Dad, but my mentor, my teacher, my cheerleader, my confidante, my boss, and my friend.
    Five months after his passing, my Mom suffered her first stroke. It affected her speech center and she was led on the road to rehabilitation. We moved her from "their" home to my city and placed her in assisted living. The stroke exacerbated dementia, but she was beginning to get over her depression from losing her husband of 62 years, when another stroke smacked her down. This time worsening her dementia and her speech once again.
    I have been her caregiver in all things medical and financial. I spend a great amount of time with her. Not because I have to, but because I want to. She is my Mom. She's always had my back and she would've done the same for me.
    I am a caregiver for my Mom, my 28 year-old daughter who has special needs, myself as I cope with multiple sclerosis, my husband's office where I am the manager, and my household (in general). Whew!
    So that is my excuse and I ask you to forgive me.
    Now that I have sufficiently depressed you all, let's concentrate on the good stuff.
    Last September, I visited Italy with a good friend. That was a great vacation and it gave me an idea for my third book.
    Last October, THE GOLDEN PEACOCK became available to the reading public and I have received a lot of positive responses. I also have a literary agent who works diligently to get a mainstream publishing house to contract with me.
    In June, I made it available in paperback because people complained (and rightly so) that they did not have an eReader.
    On a very personal note, I hit a BIG birthday year and went on a Caribbean cruise with my husband in April. We combined it with what will become our 30th anniversary in October. One of the islands the ship docked at was where we honeymooned - St. Lucia!
    We've added a new member to our family. An adorable terrier-mix pound puppy named Ozzy.
    My son is now living 9,000 miles away from me (sigh!) in Prague. But he is happy, so I am too. Kind of (you mothers know what I mean).
    This post is already too long, but I wanted to get you up to speed. I promise I will now get myself up to speed and start blogging again.
http://www.laurenbgrossman.com/

The Beauty of Being ...

Twenty-five years ago, when my daughter who has special needs, was a newborn, someone gave me this attached story. It really moved me and altered my thinking.

I can also relate it to my dealing with multiple sclerosis. There is no doubt that it pertains to almost any disability or life-altering disease.

Take a moment to read it. See if you are as moved as I was. You may have to enlarge your monitor screen to read it.

"The Beauty of Holland"

"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability-- to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

"When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous trip--to Italy! You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You even learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

"After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant comes in and says, 'Welcome to Holland.' 'Holland?!?', you say. 'What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy. I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy.'

"But there has been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

"So you must go out and buy new guide books and learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you never would have met. It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandt's.

"But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all talking about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, 'Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned.'

"But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't go to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland"

--Emily Perl Kingsley

Oh, what a ride....

And so, it is complete. No, not my second novel, but the Amazon 5-day giveaway. I had reservations about joining the Kindle Direct Program Select, because it required exclusivity to my book (only regarding e-book status). I found that to be a pompous request from a colossus of a company. But, after hearing from other authors that they successfully had their novels downloaded in the hundreds, and to celebrate its 2-year anniversary of publication, I decided to give it a try.

Five days later, I can report that I am tickled pink that I made that decision. There were 14,860 downloads! Of course, I’d be tickled bright red if those downloads were with a royalty. Nonetheless I am thrilled that my novel is now in the hands of 14,860 readers, who may have otherwise not have read it. Yes, it was FREE and people love getting things for FREE. I do too. Will 14,860 people read it on their Kindle? I doubt that. But, just suppose 500 of those people actually get around to reading it – then that means 500 more people will have learned about multiple sclerosis. (Though the novel is NOT about MS, one of the main characters receives a diagnosis of MS and the reader learns about the tribulations we MSers may go through daily.)

With the giveaway over, the novel is available to download once again for $4.99. In addition, it is in the Amazon Lending Library and available to their Prime Members for 90 days, exclusively. People have already begun to “borrow” the book, and they are still buying the paperback. With a giant push, I have added to the platform that I started building October 2010 when the novel first was published (in publish-speak a “platform” is an audience).

Now exclusively in the hands of Amazon, I feel a great sense of relief, in that I can really concentrate on my second novel. Yes, I still have to promote, but not on a daily basis. This affords me the luxury of working on this second novel.

My next novel is so different than my first, that I may have to warn some people before it goes into publication. I really stepped “outside the box” of my comfort zone with this one. It is partly historical fiction/partly contemporary. There is murder/suspense/mystery, and it is loosely based on a real person who survived the Holocaust. I promise: no vampires or zombies.

I can only hope that the platform I built will continue to follow my writings. And, I sincerely want to thank all of you who downloaded the novel and made it an Amazon Bestseller. Oh, what a ride it has been!

Outside My Comfort Zone

Stepping outside of my comfort zone or
How to become one Tough Mudder.

Last weekend my son and nephews entered in the Tough Mudder race in Southern Calif. For those of you who do not know what a Tough Mudder race is; allow me to explain.

It is an obstacle course – not unlike those Navy Seals use for training. You jump into vats of ice water, then hoist yourself over walls, army crawl through mud, while being zapped by electrified wires (NOT KIDDING). Some people actually run it as a race, some walk it. They are held throughout the country (Google it), but this one was at a snow resort, so I’m guessing fewer people were actually racing up Black Diamond mountains. The entire race took my son with his team of six, approximately five hours to complete.

Through poor planning on the part of the organizers, they ran out of bananas, parking meant taking a shuttle to the ski resort and then after the long tedious race, when all you want to do is lie down and sleep, they had a 2½ hour wait to get onto a shuttle to return to their car. Since the sun was setting and they were wet and mud-covered, they were handed space blankets to keep warm.

It sounds to me that this is not really a race as much as an endurance test. No one in their party attempted to be the first to cross the finish line, They just wanted to be able to have the opportunity to say they survived the Tough Mudder from start to finish.

Now, I am proud they did it and happier still that no one was injured. But, I pondered why anyone would push themselves to the limit.

Why must people climb the tallest mountains wearing oxygen masks? Why must someone swim across vast expanses of water (even shark-infested), if they haven’t fallen overboard? Why do people push their bodies to extremes?

Trust me: I don’t get it. There was a period of two years when I was working out with a personal trainer. I felt it was my duty to keep my multiple sclerosis in check, by being at my fittest. I worked with an excellent trainer who was well aware of my strengths and weaknesses. I did get stronger and I did lose weight. But, after my workout I went home and collapsed. Then I was in pain for the next two days. "But it’s a good pain" – that’s my husband talking. I gave him looks of daggers, because to me PAIN IS PAIN. Then I would return to the gym and begin the same routine all over again. Workout, collapse, limp around in pain for two days.

Well, I finally got it! If my MS was going to create pain anyway, I didn’t need to cultivate it in a gym. So, I stopped going. Lo and behold, I have been pain-free since. Not of course, free of my MS pain, which I will always have. But free of that good kind of pain that kept me grimacing for days on end.

I strongly advise most of you NOT to listen and follow my newly-acquired way of thinking. Exercise is good for people with MS. Just not this person. And that becomes my choice. I choose not to push myself to my limits. I prefer to stay within my comfort zone.

Now I may not be one Tough Mudder (as it were), but I am pushing myself outside my comfort zone in a different way. Not with my body - oh no, I’ve learned my lesson - but with my mind. My creative mind.

With my first novel, “Once in Every Generation” I was well within my comfort zone. Even though it was fiction, it was semi-autobiographical. I knew what it was like to step into the spotlight and I knew what it was like to get diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I also wrote within the genre of which I read. I like books about interpersonal relationships.

Here’s where I am leaping (giant leaps) outside my zone of comfort: the novel I am working on now with great intensity and excitement is a combination of contemporary and historical fiction. Though based on the life of a real person, it combines real life characters with fictionalized events. The research has been extremely inspiring for me.

You will read about a true person who survived the Holocaust, only to have to relive it in her elder years. There is mystery, drama, humor, and even a chase scene throughout the backstreets of London.

Totally outside my comfort zone! And as I type I can feel the adrenaline pumping. I look forward to sitting down at the keyboard and writing. This has become my Everest, my pushing the limits, my Tough Mudder race (without the mud). And I can finally understand why people push themselves outside of their comfort zones. I finally get it! Yes, I am one Tough Mudder, after all.

I'm No. 1! I'm No. 1!

Yea! Please, tell your friends. "Once in Every Generation" is No. 1 on Amazon in this category:
Books - Literature & Fiction - multiple sclerosis.

HELP WANTED: Dream Interpretation Needed.

Sorry it has been a while since my last blog. In fact my last post was by a guest blogger. But the simple truth was that I had nothing to write about. And I refuse to bore readers with the details of my everyday life (like some bloggers).

But just to update you, I have been writing with a ferocity I have never felt before. I am very excited about this story and that’s why this next novel is moving along. Though still in its rough draft state of infancy, I have a clear vision of where it’s going.

The purpose of this post is to reach out and see if there is anyone out there who can help me. You see, for the past 25 years I have had a recurrent dream. It is a dream with variations on the same theme. As I dream I recognize it as such. Moreover, I believe it is connected with the novel I am currently writing. Perhaps, for 25 years I have been destined to write this story.

So, for those who are not interested in dream interpretations, feel free to stop reading at this point. You won’t hurt my feelings. For those who are interested I would love you to leave a comment here, or email me at: lauren@laurenbgrossman.com.

Each dream involves a large house with many rooms. I am the owner. As I enter each room there is a door which leads to other rooms, which lead to more rooms, etc.
Example of a dream I had maybe 20 years ago, but is still vivid in my mind: I have just bought a house and I enter a room. It has dark paneling and lots of built-ins. The former owners must have left in a hurry because the drawers still are full. At first I am annoyed that I have to clear out their mess, but then I realize that you never know what you might find. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure, right? I leave that room to explore my new house, and I enter a room. It is as large as a warehouse. There are many beds in this room. Metal springs and thin mattresses – the kind you had when you lived in a dorm in college. They are all strewn about the room n disorder. I make my way through the room and pass into another room, which is obviously some sort of trailer. I think to myself, “Oh good, I own a trailer, too.” There are other smaller details, but that is the gist.

Another dream is in an apartment I live in which has doors that lead to many other rooms. Some have stairs to climb to get to the next room.

The one particular dream I had which lends me to believe it is a connection with my novel was this: A white manse which I have gone through, though I never make it through every room for there are too many. I find myself at the bottom of a hill looking up at the manse. It sits on a grassy knoll with an identical manse slightly angled next to it. I am with children at play. A nun comes for us (I am Jewish) and tells us to follow her. I realize this residence is an orphanage and I live there. I can still see it clearly.

As I said, the dreams are the variations on the same theme. But why do I have these recurrent dreams? Not every night, not even every month, but several times in a year, I will awaken and recognize the theme.

Here’s the clincher for those readers who have stayed awake reading with this post: My novel is about a real woman who survived the Holocaust because her parents could not afford to feed her. Like many people had to do, they sent her to an orphanage run by nuns. It is only a small portion of her story, which I have turned into an historical fiction. But I had the revelation while rereading the story that it connects to my dream of when I was an orphan looking up at the white manse on the hill.

Karma? Reincarnation? Coincidence? Too much spicy foods before bedtime?

Seriously, if you have any thoughts I would welcome them. It has baffled me for 25 years. My hope is that if it is a connect to this novel, that the dreams will end when I finally go to publication.

What are your thoughts?

Guest Blog - Spring Break, Revisited

Welcome Terry Crawford Palardy as our guest blogger

Spring Break, Revisted

On a true spring day,
Temperatures in the fifties
Sun behind a thin veil of clouds
I am remembering…

It is spring break week for colleges, but not for public schools. It has been a full year since I’d last sat on the porch each morning of this blessed week with a pot of tea, there to scribble restful thoughts into my notebook.
I had taken the week off to recuperate from a growing sense of malaise, fatigue, confusion and sadness. My career would be ending soon, sooner than I’d planned. I decided to consider it a vacation week, like the college students had. I found it a precious time of year, with the worst of winter behind us, and the true beginnings of new life just ahead. I wished in that week that every teacher could experience a true spring break.

Some mornings I would simply watch the weather, listen to the birdsong, and sniff the fresh moist scent of buds breaking through recently thawed earth. Other times I would write at a frenzied pace as life itself happened: the chickadees’ and nuthatches’ noisy quarrel with the squirrel, contrasting with the mourning doves’ quiet, fluttering arrival to forage beneath the feeder, and the chipmunk’s incessant chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp from the front doorstep, where he sat on top of the garden statue of a bunny, his short tail looking like an anchor tucked between the sun-warmed ears of the statue. The creatures in view were ever changing, never still. The sparrows would arrive en masse, taking over the feeder, leaving the larger but timid cardinal hiding deep within the branches of the pines nearby. I would scribe their chatter, and describe their behaviors, but try as I might, I could never quite capture their natural beauty with my words. One week of spring vacation could never be long enough.

Afternoons of that special week were dedicated first to a restorative nap, and then a valiant attempt at spring cleaning, of winter wardrobe weeding and donation deliveries, and sorting through the stacks of unattended miscellaneous mail, always set aside during the school year, less important than the bills and such, and always requiring at least a glance before being cast away. If weather allowed, and energy sufficed, an outdoor patrol with garden gloves to pull last fall’s debris off the little spring shoots and a camera to capture those blossoms that did arrive before week’s end. Washing the windows was anticipated, but not accomplished during
that very short week.

Evenings during my spring ‘vacation week’ found me back indoors, feet up, school bag at my side and piles of student work spread about nearby awaiting grades to fit the comments already written. My notebook lay neglected then, as work bled into the home scene consistently. Many evenings I wished I might have the student beside me as a page was being reviewed; to point out a difficult passage, and make a suggested change with immediate feedback and response … how much we could accomplish together, one to one … but with one hundred students and only me, that could never happen. No chance to praise and take delight in work well done and little time to coach and encourage the one who had shown little understanding of the task. The comments I wrote always said so much more than the isolated letter grade at the top of the page, but the grade alone would hold the student’s attention and the comments were often all for naught. So many hours invested outside the schoolroom, far removed from the intended target of those instructional notes. My labor of love would be put away quickly as the student went off to the next class, another subject, and a different teacher with different papers to return, grades and all.

I tried to continue through the rest of that spring to summer, to finish that last year of school on my feet, with pride. But I was humbled by the increasing forgetfulness, and sadness, and fears and tears. Rising each morning became more difficult. A permanent substitute was in my place now, and while I was welcome to stop in and guide her through the curriculum and materials, I was unable to fill even that role. I spent more and more hours asleep each day, and in my dreams visited my classroom, only to find it was no longer mine. I dreamt of being lost, I dreamt of being misplaced in time and place, and I dreamt of being no longer needed. In my dreams I became a different person, a stranger even to myself… after thirty years of being a teacher, I became an unknown.

It has been a year since that wonderful week followed by that difficult end of my career. I used some of that time to visit doctors, to try new medications, to rest, to take walks during the daylight rather than at the weary end of a workday. I learned how to reduce our expenses to fit our pension. I leaned what I needed to know about our new health insurance that accompanied my retirement. I learned how to let go of the responsibility I felt each year for one hundred new students. I learned not to fear letting their parents down, or letting students down, and letting myself down. I learned that I did not have to remember every family situation and health issue and learning style of those hundred new students each year. I learned that it was alright to be finished. I learned that there is life beyond the classroom, beyond a career.

But I do miss them, all of them. I miss the students’ smiles in the morning, their pride in their work, their delight in understanding something that they were learning. I miss my colleagues, my partners, my friends, and our meetings together where we discussed all of our students and their lives and their learning. I missed, for a short while, the regularity of a schedule, and learned that without that external structure I could find my own within. And I know that the balance has
shifted, and the time taken from my family for my students is now free for me to spend with those I love at home. I am beginning to know who I am now, this different me. And I am happy. And my spring break is now long enough, and need never end.

Terry's links:

Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00580PJ9Y

Website: www.beyondoldwindows.com

Blog: http://terrysthoughtsandthreads.blogspot.com

Facebook: Terry Crawford Palardy, and Terry's Thoughts and Threads, and Multiple Sclerosis, an Enigma

Twitter: @thoughtsthreads

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5057459.Terry_Crawford_Palardy

I'm Number 2!!!!!!

Yea! My novel is now #2 on Amazon under literary/fiction - multiple sclerosis!!!!

I'm celebrating with https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/50529?ref=laurenbgrossman. A 99cent promo.

It's a novel about two women with extraordinary singing voices who learn to overcome challenges in their lives.

Read it, then get back to me. I love feedback - good or bad - it doesn't matter, as I learn from everyone.

The Count is In!

    The count is in and it seems 95 people took advantage to download "Once in Every Generation" for free, through Smashwords, during READ AN EBOOK WEEK.

    Why give it away for free?
1) It coincided with the beginning of MS Awareness Month.

2) 95 more people will have an opportunity to become aware of MS (if they were not previously aware).

3) 95 people can re-gift or re-cycle the book and continue to spread awareness.

    I would invite anyone who downloaded the novel to please post a review on my Amazon book’s page:  http://amzn.to/d0MUEz or if you are a Goodreads member: http://bitly.com/GH7bpE.
    You may not consider yourself a critic, but I value all opinions of my story. So, do not feel it has to be lengthy. Even a couple of sentences are valuable. Ask yourself: how did this story make me feel? Was it an enjoyable read? Would I recommend it to others? Or, what was it about the book I hated? The truth is that I value the truth – good or bad – I learn from everybody. Of course, please remember that constructive criticism is the best kind.
    By the way, thanks to all of you who have taken the time to contact me directly at lauren@laurenbgrossman.com. I love the feedback and try to get back to you within 48 hours (kind of like the doctor’s office).

    I am participating in READ AN EBOOK WEEK in order to help promote reading and, coincidentally, March is MS Awareness Month. So, this helps promote Multiple Sclerosis Awareness, as well.
    "Once in Every Generation" will be available for FREE for one week. You can read about the novel at the Smashwords link: http://bitly.com/irnMCM. Use Coupon Code RE100 at checkout.
    Happy reading, everybody!

Stories to Inspire - Recycled

 

In the spirit of recycling, I am reposting an article that was printed in the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America's magazine - "The Motivator." Please keep in mind that 5 years has passed since I wrote this article, and we all know that nothing stays the same.

The following article was published in The Motivator - MSAA’s magazine - Winter/Spring 2007.

     I’d love to be able to say, in an upbeat, perky way that “I have MS, but it doesn’t have me-e-e-e.” But, I’d be lying. Multiple Sclerosis has a firm grasp on my family and myself. In some imposing ways, and in other almost imperceptible ways, MS has fingered itself into our lives.
     Lest you, the reader, after having read the first paragraph, think, “Oh no, not another depressing MS story,” I want to share with you a heartening story.
     I was not diagnosed after my first exacerbation 14 years ago. It was only one incident and I refused a lumbar puncture. Of course, 14 years ago, the ABC drugs were just emerging, so no treatment was encouraged.
     Seven years later, my second exacerbation left me with a definitive diagnosis, a somewhat weakened body, aches, pains, a slight depression, and a great excuse for a part-time maid.
     My concerned husband of 15 years mobilized and removed the most unnecessary stresses in my life. Working alongside my husband as his office manager, I was responsible for all the bookkeeping, which of course, included the reconciliation of bank statements.
     I was also responsible for bank statements at home, and I was treasurer of two different investment clubs. I counted up all the bank statements I was reconciling and found the number to be over twelve. I was a busy woman. Immediately, my husband took over all of our finances at home, leaving me with only the office and investment clubs with which to deal. Very do-able.
     Laundry became his domain. He even began doing the major food shopping once a week. After a long day at work, I would come home and collapse, yet he would come home and cook dinner.
Slowly, my husband…my hero…lifted away the extra and often, unnecessary, burdens I once shouldered.
     Which is not to say, I am helpless. I still do plenty of my share of the housework; getting children ready for school, carpooling, planning parties, running an office, etc. After all, you still have to live your life.
     They say, “The less you do, the less you can do.” As I found myself doing less and less, I found myself being less involved in my two childrens’ lives. No more hikes, no more throwing the ball around, no more school chaperoning trips, or kite flying. As I said, MS fingered its way into all of our lives.
     If the less you do, the less you can do, then it only serves to prove the opposite is also true. The more you do, the more you can do. With that in mind, I began a carefully worked out exercise plan to slowly and painlessly get my legs and body back into reasonable shape. But, please understand, that for most of my adult life the “e-word” (exercise) was not a part of my vocabulary. In fact, if I ever spoke that word it was always in a whisper. The thought of following a regimen of any sort was something I found, frankly, nauseating.
     After one year I would be facing an event, which I decided to use as a focus to achieve a new goal. I wanted to be able to dance at my childrens’ B’nai Mitzvah. My daughter and son were to celebrate their combined Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. It was to be a weekend-long event for family and friends. Beginning with the service, a major party for 150 guests and a Sunday brunch at our house, I knew I would not last if I did not start this workout regimen.
     For nearly one year, I worked out two times a week. No, it wasn’t easy. But, each time I was on the treadmill, and a size 6 woman in leotards would pass me, I noticed I walked just a little faster and sweated just a little harder. I would never look like her, but I would, at the very least, look like a better me.
     I began to notice a change in my body. My stomach was getting flatter, and my arms and legs were becoming stronger. I was actually capable of shopping again. The long walk from the overcrowded parking lot to the mall was no longer something I dreaded. My legs were becoming stronger. On the downside, if I did not work out, I found my legs began to hurt. Damned if you do…damned if you don’t.
     I DID dance continually at the party. I DID last on my feet the entire weekend. Of course, there is a lot to be said for adrenaline.
     When the last guest departed, I put my feet up and they stayed up for two days. I expected that. I   even prepared for that.
     But I made it through one of my family’s most important events in our lives. And happily, I was not sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else having fun. I was having a blast and bursting with pride in my family.
     That was over 3 years ago. My visits to the gym became less and less. I was falling into the same old pattern. So, I have now set another goal. I plan on celebrating my 50th birthday in Hawaii with my wonderful husband. Every other morning, you will see me out for a brief walk to get my legs in shape. I understand there are a lot of nice shops in Hawaii.
     Goal-setting has become my standard way of staying healthy. If I can just make it to the next goal, I feel proud and strong. Baby steps…one goal at a time.
     Yes, I have MS and it really does have me-e-e-e. But, that’s okay, because my family and I have proven that we can handle it together.

Ahh, the Smell of Coffee and Writing is in the Air!

    Well it has been a while since I last posted a blog. January 1st was my last post. Since nothing had come to mind, I did not want to blog for the sake of blogging. That would be rambling about nothing and, I assume, boring and a turn-off for most of you.
    But, I have some exciting news.
    First, let me just say this:
    One of my past posts was about procrastination (on my part). It ended with a solemn vow to write two days a week. I'll share a secret: that didn't come to pass. As Angelina Mariano says in Once in Every Generation "Life gets in the way of living." And, that’s exactly what happened.
    In my case, my multiple sclerosis got in my way. I became ill and lost any momentum I had begun. MS can do that. Pain can do that. Fatigue can do that. Lack of interest can do that.
    Finding myself flat on my back with pain from degeneration in my lower lumbar area; the pain and fatigue made me lose interest. I can hear you saying, "Well, that's what laptops are for." Uh, uh. Not me. I prefer to write sitting up and at a desk. Habit, I suppose. A condition I set up for myself years ago.
    After a while, the pain subsided and, though the degeneration will inevitably continue, I have been reinvigorated with energy.
    Big news: I have broken a habit. I no longer sit at my desk, but actually take my laptop to a bustling coffee shop…and I WRITE! With a caramel macchiato (with soy milk), and a muffin, I sit and get lost in my writing. Background noise be damned – I don’t hear it. I am lost in my writing. Yesterday, four hours magically flew by before my cel phone rang and shook me out of my reverie.
    As a result, I am getting a lot done on my second novel. I hope you are as happy for me as I am. I call this the J.K.Rowling effect.
    My second news:
    1.)    Next week I will be a guest author at a book club about two hours north of me. I was contacted through my website by the hostess. She has MS and found me on Amazon.
    2.)    I will be on internet radio on February 22^nd for an online book club.
    3.)    There is a Facebook book club who has slated me as their first book – date TBA.
    So, as my body is back to moving along, so is my writing/book life.
    And this is HUGE: My book is number three out of 100 books on Amazon under literature & fiction – multiple sclerosis! I’M NUMBER THREE!!! I ask that if you have read it, please post a review on my Amazon site: http://amzn.to/d0MUEz. You don’t have to use your name – an alias will do. It’ll help keep me up in the ranks.
    Well, I’m off to the coffee shop. Got to keep writing, not to mention I'm now addicted to caffeine.