Barrett's Blog, page 8
January 21, 2013
GCLS Author Guest Blog: BARRETT
Reblogged from Frivolous Views:
I attended a panel at the Minneapolis Con last year called "So I had this idea...how inspirations become realities." Barrett was a panelist. At one point, I remember Karin Kallmaker - who was the moderator for the panel - saying to Barrett something along these lines: "Did you just say that you consider 100,000 words to be a short story?" (Of course, I'm completely paraphrasing.) But the point was clear - Barrett writes.
Thank you, Carleen!
January 8, 2013
Guest Post From Ann McMan aka AMFA
The Uses of Enchantment
by Ann McMan
December 12, 2012
Well I never been to Spain. But I kinda like the music. –Three Dog Night
If anyone out there has any lingering curiosity about what authors do in that lull between the release of their latest books, and the end of their (brief) hiatus from their keyboards, here’s a hint.
We read.
I never realized that not being able to read was one of the biggest sacrifices I’d have to make to write—and it seems counterintuitive to me that this would be one of the casualties of my newest hobby-cum-career. And I’m finding out that I have to re-learn how to do it. For example: reading in bed is a penultimate exercise in futility—at least for me. You see…I get up every day at the crack of four-thirty so I have time to write before I head out to my Regrettable Day Job—so by, say, eight-thirty at night, I’m about as lively as a cut stalk of celery that’s been left out in the sun all day.
Does that metaphor work? I was going for limp…just so you get the simile.
But, in my own plodding way, throughout part of the 1.75 hours of actual consciousness I have left when I roll in from the office each night around seven, I’ve been reading. And the book I’ve been reading during the last three weeks since Aftermath got released is Damaged In Service, by my good friend and Bedazzled Ink colleague, Barrett.
This actually is the re-release of Barrett’s 2011 novel that takes the reader on a sometimes-chilling descent into the murky and confounding psychological catacombs that twist and turn inside the psyche of someone afflicted with post-traumatic stress disorder—or PTSD. If you’re at all unfamiliar with the emotional tentacles of this now horrifyingly common response to violence or trauma, Damaged In Service will give you a compelling and frightening compendium of how the disorder can wage its silent war in the suburbs of conscious thought—rendering even the strongest and most highly-functioning individuals among us weak and susceptible to misstep and dissociation.
There are other (and better) summary reviews of Barrett’s book available—and I encourage you to check those out for a more unbiased and informed look at this fine first novel. I’ll even include links for you at the bottom of this page. As I said—Barrett is my friend and colleague, and I firmly believe the book can stand alone on its own merits.
I would, however, like to indulge myself by talking about some of the things that the other reviewers haven’t mentioned. There is an incredible richness to me in the way Barrett writes about her beloved New Mexico. These passages in the book—some of them offered in an almost conversational, off-handed way—are beautiful and lyrical descriptions of “The Land of Enchantment.” They paint a picture of a raw and magical place, enriched by time and unspoiled by progress. Reading Barrett’s book, I was transported over and over to a similar world of mystery I first encountered way back in high school (don’t ask how many years ago), when I immersed myself in the works of the legendary Carlos Castaneda. There is a delightful symmetry in the way these two authors talk about the lands they love. Places and place names, with their wonderfully complex and confounding combinations of consonants, resonate with warmth and life, and nearly vibrate right off the pages.
I’ve never been to New Mexico—but after reading Barrett’s book, Damaged In Service, I can close my eyes and imagine it. All its warmth, history, harshness, beauty, and richness of light and color, is right there for the taking. If you find yourself, like me, with a bit of extra time and a hankering for a peek at someplace wildly different, take a tour of the great southwest with Barrett.
And while you’re on this journey, you’ll gain some valuable insights into the stealth plague of PTSD—and experience how two women still can manage to find their rocky, sweet, but oft-obstructed way toward each other in a landscape that time cannot forget.
List of reviews for Damaged In Service:
Footnote: February 19th Barrett will be appearing at the Dallas Jewel Book Club for a signing.
January 2, 2013
Excerpt-ional Extras for YOU!
I am so grateful and excited about the well received “2nd Edition” of my book “Damaged in Service” and the glittery Christmas stocking-stuffer “Windy City Mistletoe”. Zeke and Anne have, again, warmed my heart.
For anyone who may be unsure about selecting either…or both of these stories, I thought I’d offer excerpts to sweeten the pot. In addition, I am happy to report that the second in the series “Defying Gravity” is enjoying the tender ministrations of Casey, my skilled editor. Very soon, I’ll start squeeing like a little piggy on Red-eye gravy (as a certain reviewer might say) when I present the new cover and a hopeful time of release.
Also, for all the amazing people who visit this site from every corner of the earth–Thank You, Danke, Merci, Gracias,– and please note my work is available in a dozen different locations go to Nuance.
Without further ado…
Excerpt from Chapter Twenty-One “Damaged in Service”
THEY MUST HAVE looked like blushing young lovers, enjoying the superb New Mexican breakfast spread at the Inn. The leisurely meal meant a little later start then originally planned, but it made no difference. Zeke believed this brighter than normal day blossomed with hope and promise.
The fall morning was crisp and cool when they started their tour of the Enchanted Circle. Zeke marveled at the majesty of the scenery of the northern mountains, dressed in their full array off all colors with snow-dusted peaks.
“I love these heated seats,” Anne said.
They turned on route 64 east and headed north toward Angel Fire through breathtaking mountain scenery and rural countryside.
Zeke had done her homework. She had studied the guidebook for hours before they left and had practically memorized the route and the many points of interest. She knew that the Enchanted Circle wound around the tallest mountains in northern New Mexico. “Did you know that Wheeler Peak is thirteen-thousand-one-hundred and-sixty-one feet? But the first ones we’ll actually see will be the lower peaks—Ranchos, Palo Encebado, and Capulin Peak.”
“My, my, you are not only a gifted lover but also quite well read. I’m impressed.”
“I do what I can.”
Anne trailed the backs of her fingers along Zeke’s face. “Yes, you do.” She looked at the guidebook Zeke had set in her lap. “Listen to this . . . ‘Circling Wheeler Peak, the tallest mountain in New Mexico, Enchanted Circle Scenic Byway loops four miles through the Carson National Forest. Highlighting astonishing wooded valleys, magnificent mountain passes, Enchanted Circle makes an exciting day trip or an amusing vacation destination.’ So, are you amused yet?”
“Oh, I am so much more than amused.” Zeke took Anne’s hand.
“You know, I’ve lived here for over fifteen years, and I’m always enchanted. But in the northern mountains, the beauty and the majesty are just so breathtaking to me. In the heartland, even a bump in the sidewalk used to be exciting. And our ski hills? Ha. Most weren’t over a few hundred feet tall, and I thought they were huge.”
“I guess you can imagine how amazed I feel, coming from Mississippi. For a southern gal, these mountains are mind boggling, just like you are.” Zeke thought about the perfect evening she had spent with Anne, the perfect blending of mind and body—musical with crescendos and lyrical interludes.
After several moments of quiet, Anne put her hand on the back of Zeke’s neck and lightly massaged it. “A penny for your thoughts . . .”
Zeke smiled and put her hand on Anne’s leg. Anne leaned closer, kissed her cheek, and continued to massage Zeke’s neck and shoulder.
“I was just thinking about how relaxed I feel. I can’t remember the last time I went this many hours without a headache.” Zeke looked at Anne. “I think you might be magical.”
“Yes, you found me out. Just like you, it’s a part of our training. Nurses are magical people.”
Zeke laughed. “Touché.”
“So, you want to hop in back and make wild monkey love?”
“Yes, but we have all weekend. Drive.”
Anne’s warm hand on the back of Zeke’s neck was soothing. The touch was like a balm for the rawness that Zeke thought was inaccessible. She felt good to be this relaxed. Near Eagle Nest, they followed route 64 to the Cimarron Canyon State Park on the shores of Eagle Nest Lake. Zeke switched on the GPS. “This looks like it’s about halfway. At this point, we should decide whether to continue or head back.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt: “Windy City Mistletoe”
The limo driver held the door, and Zeke stepped out.
Anne took her hand and stepped over a small pile of snow on to the curb. The entrance to the Ritz Carlton dazzled like a glittering snow globe. Twinkling white lights covered the portico and dozens of decorated evergreens lined the carpeted walkway.
“This is breathtakingly beautiful . . . and look, the whole street is lit up. In all the years I had lived here, I never came here. What a perfect choice.”
“Good evening, ladies. Welcome to the Ritz Carlton. My name is Henri. If you’d be so kind as to sign this registration, our bellman will escort you to your premiere room.”
The grand marbled lobby glistened with holiday decorations. Some lovely music played very softly in the background while everyone went about his or her business in a sort of hushed reverence as though they were in the Louvre. Anne glanced at Zeke, who simply smiled and winked at her. The long thickly-carpeted hallways were nearly silent. It was almost too much to take in.
The bellhop unlocked the door and switched on the lights. The beautifully decorated room provided a comfortable and welcome retreat, but the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan astounded her. In a rush, a deluge of memories flashed through her mind. From her earliest childhood to the heady days before college graduation, the lakefront had always played a part of her life. Her eyes misted and her throat swelled . . . home.
She heard Zeke thank the bellman and latch the door. She turned into Zeke’s warm embrace. Those arms were her new home.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’re crying.” Zeke stroked her face.
“Nothing is wrong. In fact, everything is better than wonderful. I don’t know when I’ve ever been this happy.” Anne pulled Zeke closer and kissed her cheek. “This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had—to be in this beautiful place, alone with you.”
“I’m glad. Your happiness is the most important thing to me. You endured some of the worst kinds of hell because of my job, and you never quit. I owe you my life, and I give you my love.”
Anne cradled Zeke’s face for several moments, lost in the tenderness she saw in those beautiful eyes, and then kissed her. “I love you, very very much. Come and look at this view.”
The reflection of the setting sun painted a line of distant clouds multiple shades of pink and orange. In the foreground, whitecaps broke as they rolled into shore. From their high vantage point, Anne could barely recognize the Lilliputian-size figures walking near the lake.
She sighed. “When we first came in, and I looked at this view I had a strong visceral reaction. It was kind of like my life flashing before my eyes, but in a good way. Lake Michigan has always been a character in the story of my life. I can vividly remember endless summer days spent at the beach on big blankets. The sand was so hot they had sprinklers to keep it cool enough to walk on.”
Zeke kissed her forehead. “Sit with me and tell me about little Annie. You never talk about those days.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you all for sharing this incredible journey. I will do my best to continue to provide reading enjoyment.
~Barrett
December 26, 2012
Holidays a Joyful, even after…
Wrapping paper everywhere, no more packing tape, dishwasher’s full.
Stuffing from new dog toys scattered like fresh snow. Stop.
No more Christmas music.
Just silence. Sigh.
Deep breath.
Carefully open the box with your new e Reader…pretty.
Turn it on, whoa, look at that display.
hmm, the 4G connection is fast.
What was the site I wanted to check out? Oh yeah,
http://nuancebooks.bedazzledink.com/nuance-barrett.html
Boy that hot chocolate tastes good, especially with the marshmallows. Let’s see which should I start first?
Happy Holidays and Best wishes for a Brilliant and Beautiful 2013!
PS Thank you all for your generous support this past year. There’ll be more books to add in the coming year, promise. ~Barrett
December 20, 2012
A Holiday Message from the Heart
2012 is winding down and for a couple of weeks I’ve been trying to find a way to write some kind of summary of the past year. Then last Friday, everything that seemed balanced in my world turned upside down. The unspeakable tragedy in Newtown caused me an inexplicable emotional paralysis unlike anything I can remember.
I’m not going to revisit the events or comments made by hundreds of others far more articulate than I am. Yes, I’m a writer and most of my days are consumed with finding the right word to portray the right situation in just the right way to convey a picture visible only in my mind. My imagination never fails me even though, sometimes, finding the right word is difficult. This time it’s different. Even a week later, I struggle to absorb the information I read or see on television. It makes no sense.
Uncharacteristically, I skip over graphic news stories, I can’t look at the pictures of the tiny victims, and I don’t want to know their names. I shut it out.
The reason I said “uncharacteristic” is for two reasons—primarily, that I spent 35 years of my life as a registered nurse. I worked in hospitals, clinics, and emergency departments. I worked with AIDS patients, cancer patients, and trauma victims. I also spent two years as a Court Appointed Special Advocate for children.
I’ve held gaping wounds together to staunch bleeding, stabilized fractured limbs, and broken ribs performing CPR. I’ve seen a lot of tragedy, much of it needless. It was never easy, but it was my job. As a CASA, I advocated for two two beautiful young people who were mentally, physically, emotionally, and sexually abused. They will never be normal and I will never forget them.
Something is different, something has changed.Maybe because I’m older and a little wiser and view things with more distance. We have always dealt with wildcards, outliers, or just plain mentally ill members of our society who go off the rails. It’s always frightening and always surprising and we shake our heads and go back to business as usual.
This time I feel as though these sudden and violent acts are symptomatic of something much deeper. I don’t know what. Maybe it was 9-11, maybe that’s when we all became so fearful of one another. Maybe that was when every foreign looking face became a potential terrorist. Maybe that was when fear-mongering became the the easiest and slimey-est way to win power and prestige. I don’t know. We lost “US” —the UNITED states.
If the Mayan prediction is true that December 21 will begin a new age of enlightenment I’d be thrilled. I would like nothing more than to shake the mantel of dread and anxiety that hangs over all of us like a pall keeping out the sun. The anger, hatred, and distrust of each other has got to stop. The “us and them” mentality is not only counterproductive it’s corrosive.
I don’t think this is a lesson we want to pass on to a new generation of children.
I grew up as part of the post war baby boom. I don’t remember anything about the war but it was a time for rebuilding. Much of what was accomplished and those first couple of decades laid the groundwork for many of the comforts we enjoy today. I’d like to hope we’ve finally hit the bottom of this dreadful cycle and that the sacrifice of 26 innocents will get us motivated to take back the greatness that is OUR country.
The news cycles have moved on and we scarcely think about the thousands of individuals whose Christmas may be spent in a shelter because of Hurricane Sandy. I pray that a month room now, we won’t have forgotten the Clarion call from Sandy Hook Elementary.
Please reflect, talk about solutions, offer opinions, and quit the stubborn selfish obstructionism. This is a time when we have to work together—all of us. Please.
For every one of you who’ve taken a few minutes to stop by, I wish you health, happiness, and the love of family and friends around the world.
Peace. Barrett
November 28, 2012
“The Next Best Thing” –Blog Hop 2012
As part of ‘The Next Big Thing Blog Hop’, I was tagged by Jae in her post last week. The purpose of this hop is to expose you to writers and their work that perhaps you haven’t heard of, whether a new release or a Work in Progress (WIP). This is week 23.
According to the rules of the hop, I will be answering some questions (the same ones for every other blog hopper) about either my newest release or my WIP and then at the bottom of the post I’ve listed authors who will do the same thing in their blogs next Wednesday, December 5th.
All right then – let’s get started!
Home away from home
What is the working title of your book?
Originally, it was “Belizean Shores” right now I’m thinking about “if the Blind Could See”. Since I’m only about 2/3 way through the first draft, it could change again.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
The story originated from a real life adventure on a trip to Belize. En route to a tropical vacation,a good friend and I found ourselves flying through the outer bands of a hurricane as we approached Belize City. A *memorable* experience.So some of the story is pretty accurate.
What genre does your book fall under?
I’d say contemporary romance. But…you never know. Someone could die.
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
I prefer to let the readers create their own idea of what the characters look like. But hypothetically I would say…you know, I can’t say, I just don’t know. I’ll come back to this.
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
A legally blind sculptor and a type A travel writer are forced to make accommodations when the trajectory of their lives takes a sharp turn.
What is the longer synopsis of your book?
Silke Dyson has been humiliated and nearly killed when angry words turn volatile. Her vision and her world have diminished leaving her frightened and dependent. Her escape to Belize and the safety of childhood friends gives her an opportunity to reach out and help someone else as a most unlikely friendship develops.
Kirin Foster is a travel writer on the way up. Her proactive, no nonsense, aggressiveness has kept her on the fast track. And it helped her to escape a possessive demanding relationship. When she finds herself stranded in a strange country, her sudden helplessness gives her an opportunity to trust again.
The Yin and Yang complemented by uncanny similarities help to forge a bond between these two unlikely friends.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
If my publisher reads this, hopefully it will be contracted.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
So far, 27 days. By the end of NaNoWriMo, I should have 50,000 plus. Another couple of weeks for research and the beginning six chapters. I would guess two or three more weeks to complete the first draft, then… Big time “amplification”.
Who or What inspired you to write this book?
As I mentioned in the first question, it was based on a real event, added –my love of all things Belize, and a chance to write about Wisconsin.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
It’s still a work in progress, but the story has taken me in some interesting directions. Basically both women are looking at midlife changes with the benefit of some age. They’re both more clear about their needs and wants. They’re both very pragmatic. And while Silke appears more laid back, right-brained and calm, her situation and anxieties can be paralyzing. Kirin,on the other hand, is logical, left brained, and focused. But her experience in Belize affords her an opportunity to witness rebuilding and recovery on a very fundamental level. And it awakens a creative spark previously dormant.
When I started, I had a notion to throw two dissimilar types together in hopes of igniting some kind of passion. But…as my muse is fond of demanding– I will need to plumb the depths of their inner workings, so to speak, in order to understand each of these women and how they impact each other.
As a side note, I have been working for the past two years (actually longer than that) on series of books about an FBI agent struggling with PTSD*. The chance to do a love story seemed so appealing until I realized that there are no simple one-dimensional characters. Not if you want them to be believable. Sigh. So hopefully Silke and Kirin will find a way to meld their dissimilarities in order for each of them to grow.
But as I said, I don’t really know how this will end.
Thanks for stopping by and come back again soon.
~Next Wednesday check out these wonderful author’s blogs to find out about their Next Big Thing.
Ann annmcman.com
Baxter baxterclare.com
Ruth ruthperkinsonwritingservices.com
Sally sallybellerose.wordpress.com
If you’re a fellow writer and would like to participate in this Blog Hop, please reach out to them and let them know! The more the merrier 
* Bonus Wednesday
Bedazzled Ink Publishing and I are delighted to announce the much anticipated release of the New and improved, 2nd edition of Damaged in Service is available TODAY as an eBook through:
http://nuancebooks.bedazzledink.com/nuance-damaged.html ,
http://at-ebooks.com/damaged-in-service.html ,
http://www.rainbowebooks.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=9570
“The Next Best thing” –Blog Hop 2012
As part of ‘The Next Big Thing Blog Hop’, I was tagged by Jae in her post last week. The purpose of this hop is to expose you to writers and their work that perhaps you haven’t heard of, whether a new release or a Work in Progress (WIP). This is week 23.
According to the rules of the hop, I will be answering some questions (the same ones for every other blog hopper) about either my newest release or my WIP and then at the bottom of the post I’ve listed authors who will do the same thing in their blogs next Wednesday, December 5th.
All right then – let’s get started!
Home away from home
What is the working title of your book?
Originally, it was “Belizean Shores” right now I’m thinking about “if the Blind Could See”. Since I’m only about 2/3 way through the first draft, it could change again.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
The story originated from a real life adventure on a trip to Belize. En route to a tropical vacation,a good friend and I found ourselves flying through the outer bands of a hurricane as we approached Belize City. A *memorable* experience.So some of the story is pretty accurate.
What genre does your book fall under?
I’d say contemporary romance. But…you never know. Someone could die.
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
I prefer to let the readers create their own idea of what the characters look like. But hypothetically I would say…you know, I can’t say, I just don’t know. I’ll come back to this.
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
A legally blind sculptor and a type A travel writer are forced to make accommodations when the trajectory of their lives takes a sharp turn.
What is the longer synopsis of your book?
Silke Dyson has been humiliated and nearly killed when angry words turn volatile. Her vision and her world have diminished leaving her frightened and dependent. Her escape to Belize and the safety of childhood friends gives her an opportunity to reach out and help someone else as a most unlikely friendship develops.
Kirin Foster is a travel writer on the way up. Her proactive, no nonsense, aggressiveness has kept her on the fast track. And it helped her to escape a possessive demanding relationship. When she finds herself stranded in a strange country, her sudden helplessness gives her an opportunity to trust again.
The Yin and Yang complemented by uncanny similarities help to forge a bond between these two unlikely friends.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
If my publisher reads this, hopefully it will be contracted.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
So far, 27 days. By the end of NaNoWriMo, I should have 50,000 plus. Another couple of weeks for research and the beginning six chapters. I would guess two or three more weeks to complete the first draft, then… Big time “amplification”.
Who or What inspired you to write this book?
As I mentioned in the first question, it was based on a real event, added –my love of all things Belize, and a chance to write about Wisconsin.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
It’s still a work in progress, but the story has taken me in some interesting directions. Basically both women are looking at midlife changes with the benefit of some age. They’re both more clear about their needs and wants. They’re both very pragmatic. And while Silke appears more laid back, right brained and calm, her situation and anxieties can be paralyzing. Kirin on the other hand, is logical, left brained, and focused. But her experience in Belize affords her an opportunity to witness rebuilding and recovery on a very fundamental level. And it awakens a creative spark previously dormant.
When I started, I had a notion to throw two dissimilar types together in hopes of igniting some kind of passion. But…as my muse is fond of demanding– I will need to plumb the depths of their inner workings, so to speak, in order to understand each of these women and how they impact each other.
As a side note, I have been working for the past two years (actually longer than that) on series of books about an FBI agent struggling with PTSD*. The chance to do a love story seemed so appealing until I realized that there are no simple one dimensional characters. Not if you want them to be believable. Sigh. So hopefully Silke and Kirin will find a way to meld their dissimilarities in order for each of them to grow.
But as I said, I don’t really know how this will end.
Thanks for stopping by and come back again soon.
~Next Wednesday check out these wonderful author’s blogs to find out about their Next Big Thing.
Ann annmcman.com
Baxter baxterclare.com
Ruth ruthperkinsonwritingservices.com
Sally sallybellerose.wordpress.com
If you’re a fellow writer and would like to participate in this Blog Hop, please reach out to them and let them know! The more the merrier
* Bonus Wednesday
Bedazzled Ink Publishing and I are delighted to announce the much anticipated release of the New and improved, 2nd edition of Damaged in Service is available TODAY as an eBook through:
http://nuancebooks.bedazzledink.com/nuance-damaged.html ,
http://at-ebooks.com/damaged-in-service.html ,
http://www.rainbowebooks.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=9570
November 20, 2012
sometimes folks just prattle on…
I think we’re due for a little story telling.
First off, were approaching Thanksgiving for those of us in the U.S.. Not to say that people everywhere can’t enjoy a ginormous communal meal with friends and family, but for some it’s a very enjoyable tradition as we prepare for the colder darker days of winter.
My family is a little too far to drive over for dinner. But I will be sharing the holiday with friends on Saturday. I’ve never really hosted Thanksgiving, it’s usually shared with others. Other was that one year that plans all went sideways and a friend and I resorted to homemade goat cheese pizza and for entertainment, decided to color my hair. Different, but fun.
After pondering all this (holidays and ancient history), I woke up the other day with vivid memories from a job I had over 40 years ago. So I reminisced…
Shortly after my parents died, a compassionate family friend took my brother and me under his wing. My brother was still in the navy at the time, but my neighbor thought that slinging hamburgers in a tavern probably wasn’t the best career option for me. I enjoyed it but he seemed to think that I needed a little more structure and say, healthcare benefits.
Long story short, he lined me up with an interview at a new extended care facility in our town. I didn’t quite see how my waitressing/cooking skills would be of any benefit. Low and behold, they hired me and trained me to be a nursing assistant. Two things emerged from that: 1. I loved working in geriatrics, 2. I was fascinated with medicine.
I only worked there a little less than two years before my closest friend convinced me that I could actually apply for, attend, and graduate from nursing school, ergo…a career as a nurse. Who knew? Yes, she was correct.
But back to what I was thinking about when I woke up the other day. It was the people I got to know while I worked there. I can still remember many of the patient’s names, family members, and diagnoses. I remember the nurses who patiently answered millions of questions and actually seemed a little relieved that I was going away to school. (Emphasis on ‘going away’)
The extended care facility had been designed as a transition for people between the hospital and home (much to the chagrin of several patient families, who thought this was the end-of-the-line nursing home.) We had terrific nurses, physical and occupational therapists, dietitians and a number of excellent doctors. So, when grandpa had his massive stroke, we rehabilitated him to where he could function well with limited care. Our director of nursing was fearsome and tyrannical. With the exception of three patients who were comatose, every patient was expected to be dressed and taken to the dining room for meals. The nurses’ aides worked their tails off! But we did it.
It was not always wildly successful, because as you can imagine, many of our patients were handicapped physically or mentally. That meant we provided complete care including feeding them and of course there were more patients and staff. Mealtime in the dining room was challenging. Still, it was like a large—very large, extended family because a majority of these patients remained constant while I was working there. They were like family to me and when one of them died or went to the hospital, it broke my heart.
One I remember clearly was a physician impaired by a stroke. Knowing he could no longer practice, he attempted suicide, unsuccessfully. He suffered no physical damage, but couldn’t communicate and very confused. Unlike most of the patients who drifted daily without the connections to loved ones, his wife came every day. Usually he didn’t recognize her. Her devotion and patience were endless. On one or two very rare and brief moments, he’d recognize her and cry. Then he was gone again. It broke my heart.
Over my lifetime, I’ve heard more than one person talk about the wonder of growing up with care from a grandmother or grandfather. (I lost my grandparents before I was 10, so my memories are faint.) So as I’m thinking about Family/holiday, I remembered those wonderful people I cared for everyday for over a year. One of my favorites was a schoolteacher from out east who was106 years old. She was alert and oriented but very, very frail. Her only medication was a multivitamin. I was assigned as her aid frequently.
I took her to and from meals, fed her and provided hers cares. On one occasion, I returned her room after breakfast, and lifted her into bed for her morning nap— a routine task. When I returned to get her for lunch, I couldn’t arouse her. She had quietly died in her sleep. I was devastated. It was inconceivable to me that someone who had lived so many years could just close her eyes and be gone. (My charge nurse actually sent me home because I was unable to work.)
I learned so much from those wonderfully wise, contentious, confused, gentle souls. I’ve never forgotten them and can still picture their faces.
Throughout my career, I’ve worked in many areas of nursing: emergency, surgery, critical care, med-surg, clinics, offices, research, and Home Health Care. In every job, it was always the older patients, the frail elderly, and those at the end of their lives would touch me. It’s a special gift to share those moments. The older I get the more I appreciate the opportunity I had in my twenties to learn a little patience, to listen a little longer, to move a little slower, and to speak a little more clearly.
Love the ones you love, and tell them.
November 15, 2012
Aftermath by Ann McMan
November 15, 2012
Aftermath by Ann McMan
Last spring, I had the unique pleasure of meeting Ann McMan that the Lone Star LesFic Festival in Austin. I had already read Jericho at the urging of my buddy, Salem West, and like everyone else, was captivated. We have since become good friends and I recently enjoyed being privy to the birth of her latest novel Aftermath.
When Ann asked me if I would be willing to write a pre-release review, I was deeply honored…a little rushed—but honored nonetheless.
So the disclaimer: As a friend, this may not be entirely objective.
As a writer, though, I have a little insight into the effort, energy, and skill it takes to produce a book like this. (I will take a small amount of credit for the judicious use of a cattle prod to keep her moving.)
A little over a year ago, the name Ann McMan meant little to most of the community. While she had a following online with the The Royal Academy of Bards and The Athenaeum, most of us were unaware of her gift. Ann is a bright, articulate, and skilled writer with an astounding ear for dialogue and an even more astute eye for detail. These gifts provided the foundation that allowed her to create the mythical town of Jericho, Virginia. To my mind, it’s a 21st century “Mayberry,” replete with an enchanting cast of characters and never-ending store of vignettes.
I won’t provide a summary of the first book, or Aftermath because in her infinite wisdom, Ann encouraged David Jenkins, one of her more endearing characters, to provide you with his version of Jericho just after her intro. She has also thoughtfully provided A dramatis personae—because you won’t know the players without a program.
If I were to compare the two books…and by the way, in the past 14 months she also wrote Dust -an excellent romantic intrigue, as well as Sidecar -a four-story anthology that includes the breakaway, milk-spewing- laugh-riot named “Bottle Rocket”.
Where was I? Oh yes, comparing the two. For me, Jericho was a guided tour down Main Street of a quaint small town with a peek into several noteworthy citizens’ lives. Our guides were Maddie Stevens and Syd Murphy (two women who define like-ability—multifaceted, three dimensional, and rock solid protagonists.) A leisurely stroll allowed us a chance to slow down and enjoy the neighborhood.
By contrast, Aftermath grabs us immediately and thrusts us into the events and lives of the characters we have come to love. Now we’re privy to a deeper view of their lives, and family secrets both happy and sad. The author has cleverly and effectively book-ended this tale with heart wrenching drama and all its attendant complications. This is a story about community and family, their love, and their resilience.
David sums it up nicely near the end:
“We’re so very happy and grateful to see so many of you here today,” David said. “Michael and I owe so much to all of you, and we wanted to say thank you for all you’ve done to help us stand here and realize our dream . . . once again. The Riverside Inn— like the town of Jericho—has been reborn. And that’s because we all understand that the things that bind us together are more than bricks and mortar. We will endure, and we will persevere because we are part of a family—and families will always reach out, dig down, roll up their sleeves, and lift each other up whenever they fall. That’s what we do because that’s who we are.”
I’m glad that Ann completed this just before Thanksgiving because it’s the perfect tale to put you in the mood for the holidays. Do yourself a favor and don’t hurry through this book, read it, relish it, and savor every nuance, just like the cranberry sauce—even as you are choking with laughter.
Hold close those dear ones that enrich your lives.
Jericho was as satisfying as a Thanksgiving meal, and Aftermath will explode your senses like a Thanksgiving feast.
And my thanks, Ann, for allowing me to share my humble opinion about a superbly written and conceived novel that I am sure will be enjoyed by thousands more of your fans. It is one I will treasure.
~Barrett
Available soon: http://www.bedazzledink.com
or stop by the Ann McMan website
November 5, 2012
a tangential screed
Those of you who follow the blog may remember that I wrote a bit about a freak storm we had in the middle of August. It was one of those rare occasions, when I had gone into Albuquerque to have dinner with friends. When I finally navigated the flooded roads to get to my house through what looked like snow. Later I learned that a bizarre thunderstorm moving over the mountains must have collided with some cold air and the result was an intense hailstorm with 60 mph winds. According to my neighbors it only lasted a short time, sounded horrific, and did thousands of dollars in damage to a narrow swath of east mountain residences.
Repairs
That was over two months ago. I was fortunate that my insurance company came promptly, gave me the estimate and some recommendations and within a few weeks I had a new roof and new windows. What has lasted much longer is the uneasy feeling I have about the safety of my home. This is the first new house I’ve ever owned. I planned, saved, designed, and built, what I hoped would be my retirement home. (it still is.)
And I’m fortunate that this is the most terrible thing I’ve ever had to endure. I still have trouble finding the words to describe the disbelief I felt standing on the soaked carpeting of my bedroom floor with broken glass everywhere along with mud, sticks, and other debris. I felt violated. I felt unsafe. I felt powerless.
I never lost power. The temperature was normal. My dogs were safe. And yet, it took me weeks to feel normal.
No comparison
Like most people, I watched in horror as the storm of the century decimated parts of the east coast last week, turning thousands of lives upside down. Houses, buildings, trees, cars… No structure was left untouched. The images were on my TV set, the disembodied voices sounded distant. The only way I could relate was to think about the 20 minute unpredictable freak storm that damaged several dozen homes and then dissipated. I had multiply that by hundreds to even begin to understand the devastation I was trying to absorb.It was more than I could assimilate.
I’m still not sure I understand the magnitude of it all, but my heart hurts for the men, women, and children who’ve 
lost everything. Everything. If I was younger and stronger and not so tired, I would like to be there to help. To distribute some meals or even water bottles. To be able to provide a sleeping bag or a lantern. To put my arm around someone and honestly promise that it would be okay. I can do little but donate money and feel so grateful for the legions of people who’ve left the comfort of their own homes to help our neighbors, our citizens, and Our Family.
In the midst of the hateful, polarizing, political campaign filled with vitriol and lies, we are given a gift. A snapshot of the greatness of the citizens of this young country. In the flooded filthy streets of New Jersey, Long Island, Staten island and all along the coast, Americans—real American patriots—are reaching out and helping one another. Where are the 1% now? Where are the wall street profiteers? Where are the oil company executives who promise a better world? And most importantly where are the damn politicians we elected to take care of us, to be our voices, to stand for what We believe in?
I’m disgusted with the divisiveness, the selfishness, and the greed I read about every single day. This is not the country I grew up in.
I’m proud to be an American and I’m proud of every single human being who has put their life on hold to help their neighbors. You are each in my thoughts and prayers.
