Rebecca Nolan's Blog - Posts Tagged "draft"
Blood Lilly is done, time for romance
It has been a while and that is mainly because I have been struggling to write, edit and get blood Lilly to my publisher. Now that that is done I am moving onto finishing some romance stories.
As most people know my hubby is in the Australian defence force and is currently deployed. Due to this and other factors like my urge to help create awareness for PTSD among other things; i have decided to work on two military romances.
Here is the 1st page rough draft of a story centered around a psychologist and her Army patient.
Untitled
Everyone stood still while the reveille music played. Personnel saluted the flag as we watched it being raised. Mornings had been like this for me, for the past three years. I was used to it now, enjoying the repetition of Army life almost as much as I enjoyed my work on base. Men and women dress in uniform moved around me after the music stopped.
I stayed, looking up at the flag and praying that today I would make a difference. That was why I was here after all…to make a difference. I guess most of the people who worked on the base felt the same, we all wanted to make a difference in the world.
My journey towards a career as an Army psychologist hadn’t been an easy one. I had finished high school at sixteen and collage my psychology degree by twenty. It was during my PhD to become a clinical psychologist though that I decided to join the army. Also around that time was when my brother had returned from his first year long tour in Iraq. None of us had expected him to change, none of us knew back then what post-traumatic stress disorder was.
My brother, Daniel, knew all the right things to say, when he got back home. On the outside he looked happy. At work he felt safe, his ability to get the job done, something he used to hide the emotional scars facing him. I watch him as he began to withdraw from his friends and his family, knowing something was wrong but the Army psychologist couldn’t see it. Little things bugged me, like drinking for one thing. He wouldn’t have his back to a door or window, nothing to unusual unless we were at a restaurant, then it became a concern; one so great that my brother almost punched the waiter over it.
After that it just got worse. Daniel lost his wife due to the drinking and his outbursts. I felt certain he was depressed but I was young and not confident in my judgment of the situation. I wrote to the Army, begging them to look further at my brother which they did and found him mildly depressed due to the breakdown of his marriage. When I received the reply I was mystified, but let it go, after all this doctor had been treating our serving men and women for years, surely he knew what to look for…but he hadn’t.
No one, especially not me, could have foreseen what Daniel would do. Two years after his return, my brother- after coming back from his second tour- decided to shoot himself in his car, half a mile from base. I was dumbstruck. Emotionally torn apart by why he would do it. Why would he decide to take his life instead of coming to me for help? Why I hadn’t pushed harder, looked further or known what was going on with him.
It was during his funeral that changed my life. I watch as his brothers in arms cried for him. I watched as we sat, drinking beers and remembering the Daniel we knew. As the night wind down and the beers turned to bourbon, I heard the stories of what it was like. Maybe they had forgotten that I was still around but those boys talked. They spoke of Daniel and of the people they had killed. Spoke of the people that had almost killed them and how now, whenever they were out, in civilian life that past still haunted them.
The next day I told my grief-stricken parents I was going to join the Army as soon as I completed my PhD. As one can imagine they weren't happy. They had just buried one child and didn't wish to bury another but I couldn't stand by and do nothing anymore. Daniel had suffered because I didn't think to act or question his diagnose. He had lost his life but if I could help, if I could save a soldier like Daniel who was suffering, then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't all be for nothing.
~work in progress
As most people know my hubby is in the Australian defence force and is currently deployed. Due to this and other factors like my urge to help create awareness for PTSD among other things; i have decided to work on two military romances.
Here is the 1st page rough draft of a story centered around a psychologist and her Army patient.
Untitled
Everyone stood still while the reveille music played. Personnel saluted the flag as we watched it being raised. Mornings had been like this for me, for the past three years. I was used to it now, enjoying the repetition of Army life almost as much as I enjoyed my work on base. Men and women dress in uniform moved around me after the music stopped.
I stayed, looking up at the flag and praying that today I would make a difference. That was why I was here after all…to make a difference. I guess most of the people who worked on the base felt the same, we all wanted to make a difference in the world.
My journey towards a career as an Army psychologist hadn’t been an easy one. I had finished high school at sixteen and collage my psychology degree by twenty. It was during my PhD to become a clinical psychologist though that I decided to join the army. Also around that time was when my brother had returned from his first year long tour in Iraq. None of us had expected him to change, none of us knew back then what post-traumatic stress disorder was.
My brother, Daniel, knew all the right things to say, when he got back home. On the outside he looked happy. At work he felt safe, his ability to get the job done, something he used to hide the emotional scars facing him. I watch him as he began to withdraw from his friends and his family, knowing something was wrong but the Army psychologist couldn’t see it. Little things bugged me, like drinking for one thing. He wouldn’t have his back to a door or window, nothing to unusual unless we were at a restaurant, then it became a concern; one so great that my brother almost punched the waiter over it.
After that it just got worse. Daniel lost his wife due to the drinking and his outbursts. I felt certain he was depressed but I was young and not confident in my judgment of the situation. I wrote to the Army, begging them to look further at my brother which they did and found him mildly depressed due to the breakdown of his marriage. When I received the reply I was mystified, but let it go, after all this doctor had been treating our serving men and women for years, surely he knew what to look for…but he hadn’t.
No one, especially not me, could have foreseen what Daniel would do. Two years after his return, my brother- after coming back from his second tour- decided to shoot himself in his car, half a mile from base. I was dumbstruck. Emotionally torn apart by why he would do it. Why would he decide to take his life instead of coming to me for help? Why I hadn’t pushed harder, looked further or known what was going on with him.
It was during his funeral that changed my life. I watch as his brothers in arms cried for him. I watched as we sat, drinking beers and remembering the Daniel we knew. As the night wind down and the beers turned to bourbon, I heard the stories of what it was like. Maybe they had forgotten that I was still around but those boys talked. They spoke of Daniel and of the people they had killed. Spoke of the people that had almost killed them and how now, whenever they were out, in civilian life that past still haunted them.
The next day I told my grief-stricken parents I was going to join the Army as soon as I completed my PhD. As one can imagine they weren't happy. They had just buried one child and didn't wish to bury another but I couldn't stand by and do nothing anymore. Daniel had suffered because I didn't think to act or question his diagnose. He had lost his life but if I could help, if I could save a soldier like Daniel who was suffering, then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't all be for nothing.
~work in progress
