Writing - the ups and downs

As the flowers in the fields grow, so grow the years, days, hours, moments of my life. Each day I take out a day of my allotted ones on this earth. And I've already used up so many - Uselessly, trying to get it. But what am I trying to get? Am I trying to get ahead? But trying to get ahead of what? Ahead of or outrun? I wonder. Some of the days were filled with silt. Others with pure gold. Joy, laughter, fun. Now at this time in the later days of my life, I try to make each day I take out of my jar of days - A day that matters. Make this a day that matters in your life! God bless.

Today I proofed the first 50 pages of my 300 page mainstream novel. I can't tell you how good it feels to be back working. The other good news is, I still love this story and these characters. It's been a year since I looked at this novel seriously. I decided to go with this project because I have two places to submit it. One publisher I found seems like a good match.  And while this book has had an agent before, I have the name of another one  that I think might be a great fit. The main character in this novel is Vada Faith Waddell who has been unhappy for most of her life. She blames everyone besides herself for her unhappiness. When she decides to answer a newspaper ad to be a surrogate mother for a childless couple, she sets in motion events that change her life and the lives of others in the small town of Shady Creek, West Virginia. It's been a fun book to write and I hope it's  fun to read. Editing and finishing should only take a few weeks. Then I can ...

Just to report that my nerve block for the pancreas pain went well. And I'm feeling much better. It takes a full week to feel the effects but I do already - a good sign according to the doctor. Pictures of the pancreas showed signs FINALLY of chronic pancreas which I am not happy to have but having a diagnosis after years of pain gives me some relief and the feeling that I can develop a plan to live with this disease. Right now I'm doing research on this so that I can eat right and do the things that will help me live a better life than I've had for a long time. After I get my health plan in order - I'M READY TO WRITE. It's been a while and my novel is just wanting to be gone through quickly  one last time before being sent off to two places I found that might make a good fit. Last but not least my optimism is returning. My JOY. My fight. My determination. My strength and energy. I could not be happier on this sunny Sunday morning. Hopefully next Sunday in...

On September 2 at O.S.U. Medical Center  I'll be having an endoscopic ultrasound probe of the pancreas. This will result in photos of the pancreas and it's current condition - which was great two years ago during same procedure. I have a feeling I'm suffering from some nerve damage done when the Spinchter of Oddi in the pancreas was cut on 6+ years ago. Procedure sounds not so fun but I'll be asleep and won't care. The doctor at this point is planning to do a nerve block on a cluster of nerves in the pancreas - I thought he said they were called the Celiac nerves. Not positive. I'm trying to retain only enough knowledge to get by. I'm tired of doing research and have decided to leave this to the experts. I've quit worrying and that's helped. LOTS. Today I did yoga for the first time in months. Other than being a stiff old broad, I did fine. So my plan is to do yoga every day as long as I can. It's fun and I love the Rodney Yee tap...

I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. It's time. BUT the leaf just won't turn over. I'm getting stronger after the pancreas procedure but I find myself wanting to stay stuck right where I am. Not moving forward nor backward. Sitting on the sofa watching time pass me by. Even the weather has improved to beyond beautiful with lots of sun and blue skies. And still I sit. Contemplating possibilities. Options. Opportunities. Sometimes contemplating nothing. Do I want to sit on the sofa forever and think sad thoughts about how upset I am that I have a pancreas disorder I do not understand. I fit none of the criteria for this illness, disorder, disease or whatever it is called. Research has turned up nothing. Zilch. Zero. Writing usually brings me out of any funk I fall into. I go to my desk now and slowly shuffle the papers. The stories. Scraps papers full of endless ideas for stories. Notes on how to improve "the" novel. Yet I still do not move toward...

I haven't been around to read blogs or catch up on my own. I had another ERCP to put a stent in the pancreas duct. Ended with a three day hospital stay. I'm home now and recovering. Feeling 100% better than before I went in. Does anyone know anything about the workings of the pancreas? I'm still looking for answers and I think there are none. Dr. Groce doesn't know if this condition  is genetic or caused by gall stones gone wild,  scarring the pancreas duct. Scar tissue grows I assume and makes the opening more narrow. . Here I must say the doctor and his staff at O.S.U. have been terrific. (The pain not so much. The hospital stay not so much.  But that's a story in itself.) The balloon he uses to open the duct helps and then he puts in a stent that comes out automatically in several days. Thank God. Don't want him to go back fishing for it!!! My daughter Susan and my sister have this problem as well. It seems there is no cure for it. There is one...

     THE HELP by author Kathleen Stockett tells the story of a group of black maids working for white families before the term Civil Rights was ever born. Before the race riots. On the cusp of when the southern part of our country erupted into a period of hate that spread across the nation. As I moved into the story of the complicated lives of these women, I could taste their joy and smell their fear emanating from the pages. I felt their heartbeats. Their unease became mine. At times, I felt the need to look over my shoulder. This book is much more than fiction. It’s the many faceted tale of what really went on in the South. It was a time when black children were turned away from white schools, while their black mothers were at the homes of those white children baking bread for their supper and rocking their little sisters and brothers. At the time, I was growing up in West Virginia, sitting happily in the safety of my living room watching bandstand with Dick Cl...