Fired Up On Words & Burning It Down!

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Not having anyone such as a publisher pushing me one way or another when it comes to my writing, I can be and usually am, all over the place, working on different projects. Yes I am still working on editing my first novel, but I will also write poetry to take a break from the editing, but the biggest project I am working on is my 3 book series.

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I do have a lot done with my first book, even the book jacket cover, I just need to finish editing and getting it posted on Amazon Kindle. The initial writing of book one took me 2 years to complete and the sense of accomplishment when I finished it was phenomenal!

I can describe what I am like when it comes to my writing, a chameleon!

Not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but when I write a story, I really connect with the emotions of the character and if he/she is going through troubled times, by the time I am done writing for that session, which is usually night time, I will go to bed and cry for him/her!!!..Good God, it’s draining!..Ummm, I will have to ask my friend and published author, Gordon P. Bois, if that is normal or am I eccentric?

http://www.gordonsbookshelf.com/

Oh boy, just reading this short post shows how I can be bouncing off walls when it comes to my writing, but I love it!!!

One Chapter

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I have written a book and currently editing it myself. The editing part is taking a time to do, I am adding to it as much as I am taking away from it. I think that is okay because I can see where I want to add more depth and I am quite enjoying the editing part of it. I have decided to post it on Amazon Kindle when I am done. I have come up with a book cover design also and the title was decided upon a long time ago. Below is an unedited chapter for you to read and give your thoughts on which I am looking forward to. Enjoy!
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Where had it gone? Her voice, Sarah had lost her voice, not the sound, but the will to speak it anymore when it came to her wants and dreams. So many years of not being heard, so many years of not being validated, she was silent. Yes there was conversation with others in her life, but not of what she wanted to converse about, what she wanted to say. There was the voice of judgement and anger, the voice of a mother giving guidance, the daughter listening to her mother and father, the voice of a friend, giving words of kind. Yet deep within her was stowed away the voice of self. No longer have living words, only those that need to existed.

Now she was going thru the motions without emotion, living the life yet not loving life, so deep within herself, it was dark, it surrounded her this darkness, yes the nothing, the walls so thick now, nothing was penetrating thru them anymore from either side. But who is to blame for this or is there blame to be laid on anyone? Who is the builder of these walls and will they ever be broken down or will it be her tomb?

Her body was a vision of security, protecting the self deep within, the thickness. The face, a smile, yet to look into the eyes, one would see nothing. Yes she still neared the mirror in the mornings, trying to look into her own eyes, looking back, but she was out of focus, with all her will, she tried to see, but could not, leading to her head bowing to the darkness with tears. Her skin blemished, nothing being able to scrub away the erosion taking place.

She fed her body with toxic waste, soon her body would rebel, but she kept feeding it.

In pain, she descended the stairs, the pain so intense, she held onto the rail. At this point even as the water passed her lips, the pain intensified, her body was now rebelling with all its force anything she brought to her mouth and swallowed. She slouched over onto the kitchen counter of her daughters kitchen, always having a high tolerance for pain, the tears flowed, she questioned why she could not will this pain away, but no one was answering, not even her self. She made her way back up the stairs slowly to a level of the house where all its occupants were in a deep slumber, even Rick, as she lowered her painful body, covering it to try and stop the shivering, into a fetal position, embracing the pain, hoping to smother it, yet it was not to be.

In a weakened voice as she touched Rick to waken him…

“Please take me to the hospital?”…

No words spoken, he rose, got dressed, and went out to start the car as she struggled to get on her clothes, wishing her mother was here to dress her, to embrace her, to tell her it would be okay, not to cry. An embrace she was never familiar with, an unclear image.

It was the 2nd day in the hospital; she laid there, the pain now only eased by the morphine entering her body thru a tube, with a button to induce more of the pain killer as she felt the need for. Nothing was passing her lips now; accept maybe a small ice cube from a cup set before her. She would fall in and out of unconsciousness, wakened only by a hands touch and a voice saying it was going to take her vital signs at that moment. If there was anyone beside her bed, Rick, one of her children, a friend, a family member, she was no longer aware of their presence. She was wilting away, she knew she was, but did anyone else around her know her will to live be sitting beside her within those dark walls of self deep within?

She opened her eyes, focusing on a face in front of her, a brother, his hand now atop her head, touching her hair, slowly lowering down the side of her face, as their eyes met, a slight smile came across her face as did it across his, but then a tear. He put his arms around her, raised her to his body, embraced her and began to cry, rocking her as she cried for a short moment then falling back into unconsciousness, words left unspoken.

She did not know that after he set her back down on the pillow, he had went to the doctor who was now standing at the door, asked him what was being done and that more needed to be done and he demand it be done quick.

She was strapped onto the ambulance wheeled bed, felt the change of air as she was wheeled out the hospital doors into a stormy winter day on to the waiting ambulance, which would take her to a bigger center to have a scan done to see what was happening within her, she was thinking to herself, they will find nothing, there is nothing there anymore.

She spent 8 days total on that morphine drip in the hospital, test revealing, pancreatitis. Mostly known to be an alcoholic’s disease and left her and her doctor wondering why she had it since she was not a heavy drinker of alcohol… Then those words coming back to her from her” it’s just your will not to carry on anymore, you are shutting down, first being the spirit, now the mind, body and soul.”

The on call nurse came to her bed on that last weekend, Sarah now off the drip, slowly gaining some strength back, enough to get her out of the hospital and home again…

“Well aren’t you the special one?”… She questioned or commented, Sarah not knowing which.
Sarah did not respond back, but the nurse continued…
“The surgeon just called the nurses station, he is away and does not call to ask about any particular patient, but today called to ask how you were doing, which surprised us all at the nursing station.”

Sarah had only recalled seeing the surgeon once at her bedside those 8 days, but again she could not recall much at all.

The ride home from the hospital was a quiet one with Rick. She got out of the car once there, looked at the house, then slowly walked in thru the door way, she was numb. It was not long before she was back at the hospital again, a 3rd time, once again in pain, this time findings showing a gall bladder attack. On the 2nd day, the doctor came to Sarah’s room, sat on the bed beside her, places his hand on her arm, and asked her how she was feeling to which she replied she was fine.

“Sarah, you had a heart attack.”……

One Day At A Time

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That simple sentence says so much to so many, those recovering. And to be completely honest I think every one would benefit from experiencing the meaning behind all it is, the 12 step program. It is a great teaching program, we all go through some hard times in our lives and find it hard to cope on a day to day basis. The 12 step shows you how to face the demons, one day at a time. No one is perfect, we all reach out at some point.
Having worked in the addictions field, I found it to be the most rewarding job ever. To see someone at their lowest, climb to the point of being able to cope and learning to live one day at a time. I read the Big Book and want to read it again. I watched all the videos and experienced the program daily.

Today I wondered through a 2nd hand store and seen shelves of books. I love books! I especially love the old non-fiction reads, they show just how much the times have changed. My eyes fell upon a title, Lois Remembers. It is the memoirs of the co-founder of Al-Anon and wife of the co-founder of Alcoholic Anonymos Bill W.
This book I have not read! And I am so looking forward to reading it. I will start this evening and will give my thoughts when done.

If you have read it, what is your thoughts?

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~Lois Remembers Memoirs of the Co-founder of Al-Anon & wife of the Co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. Lois W. is the co-founder of the Al-Anon Family Groups & the widow of Bill W., co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. Here she recalls her childhood and life in Brooklyn as the protected daughter of a leading doctor, and her romantic marriage to Bill during World War I. She also tells how AA and Al-Anon started and how they have brought hope to more than a million alcoholics and those who love them. She recalls idyllic summer days in beautiful rural Vermont and long hiking and motorcycling trips with Bill. Later came darker times when she and Bill tried vainly to conquer his illness of Alcoholism. Then Bill’s spiritual awakening led to his meeting with Dr. Bob S. in Akron, Ohio, and the formation of Alcoholics Anonymous. Lois tells how the 12 Steps and the 12 Traditions grew out of the early experiences of AA members and groups, and were later adopted by Al-Anon. Her steadfast support and love for Bill were important throughout their marriage, but she found she needed her own program of recovery. Out of this need and that of other spouses and children of alcoholics grew Al-Anon for alcoholics’ families and friends, and Alateen for their children.~