Sonia Marsh's Blog, page 24

Hope You Have a Gutsy Thanksgiving

 

 

Key West Butterfly Conservatory

After a wonderful week on the Gulf Coast of Florida, and Key West, Duke and I are packing our bags and driving through the Everglades to Ft. Lauderdale. We leave for California this morning where our three sons will be celebrating Thanksgiving with us.

A delicious Thanksgiving meal, from Lucille’s BBQ will be picked up by my sons, and so this year, I shall not be cooking a turkey with all the trimmings.

Wishing all my friends and blog followers, a day filled with love and gratitude.

VOTING for your favorite “My Gutsy Story” will start tomorrow. I apologize for the one day delay.

How I Turned Tragedy into Triumph by Janet Simcic

Overcoming My Fear of Pink

“My Gutsy Story®” by Janet Simcic

            Autumn!  It evokes warm memories for me growing up on the east coast.  Leaves change from green to crimson and bright yellow, delicious air brisk in my nostrils.

My perennial October joy ended abruptly in 1993 when I became that one out of seven women diagnosed with breast cancer.  Thanks to the efforts of the Susan G. Komen Foundation and other organizations, October is now breast cancer awareness month, and the color pink is prominent on TV commercials, clothing, perfume bottles, sports team gear…you name it. I couldn’t appreciate it more.  But for the first ten years after my double mastectomy and year of anguishing chemotherapy, every October brought back fear and pain, and pink reminded me daily of being in survival mode.  Pink had come to represent nausea, sleepless nights, baldness, wondering if I’d live to see grandchildren born, if I’d suffer, when I would have a recurrence.

I turned fifty the year of my diagnosis.  It started out fine.  Took care of all my doctor’s appointments,  my yearly mammogram, screeched into menopause, went on estrogen therapy  and then it happened.  Two days after my mammogram, I got the call.

“Mrs. Simcic, this is Dr. Hopkins office.  We need you to have additional views for your recent mammogram.”

I made the appointment, heart hammering, and feared  it wasn’t good news.  I endured the extra scans, had the ultrasound, went home and cried.  The next day the call came.

“Mrs. Simcic, there’s been a change in your breasts.  You need to review your film with a surgeon.”

A good friend worked for Dr. Baick, an M.D. who’d recently started a practice just for breast cancer patients…with his own staff oncologist and plastic surgeon.  I made the appointment, picked up the film, and peeked at it in the parking lot. There was the tumor smaller than the nail on my pinkie finger; exactly like photos of breast cancer in brochures I’d read.  It beamed like a shining star.

Tears fell, and I called my husband, Bill. We met with Dr. Baick who reviewed the film and said, “A lumpectomy should take care of a tumor this small.  Here are the orders for a needle biopsy, and your surgery for next Friday.”

It’s not fun to sit in front of an ex-ray machine and have someone place a marker in your breast, followed by a long needle to aspirate tissue.  But I forced myself through it by prayer.   The lumpectomy surgery was quite simple, with  little pain or recovery time.  “Got it all,” he said.  “We’ll call you with results next week.”  He called the next week for a follow-up appointment. That wasn’t good news.  It meant something bad.  Bill and I held each other tightly, prayed some more, asking for that miracle, and drove to the office.

Dr. Baick said, “Bill, I’m going to talk to you because your wife is in shock and may not understand.”

But I listened to every word.  Not only did I have in situ cancer, making it impossible to have clear margins, but the cancer had already spread to my lymph nodes. It was estrogen receptive.  Dr. Baick delivered the verdict. I needed a total mastectomy.

Two weeks later, I sat in the plastic surgeon’s office as he tried to convince me the horror stories of silicon breast implants were exaggerated.  He threw one across the room to demonstrate.  Being a fearful person,  I opted for the saline.  Long before Angelina Jolie made headlines, I chose to have the other breast removed as well.  Having estrogen receptive cancer, and my family history of my dad’s prostate cancer and my mother’s ovarian cancer, I had serious risk factors.

By the end of the month, I had nice implants (chosen after feeling the implants of many other cancer patients), and started chemotherapy with Dr. Tariq Mahmood, the most compassionate doctor I’ve ever met.

The country was in recession in 1993, our business was hitting bottom, my daughter was getting married, and my son was entering his second year at Columbia University.  I wept.  I’d be bald for my daughter’s wedding. Would I ever look like me again? When I told people I had breast cancer, everyone immediately looked at my breasts.  It was embarrassing.

Then one night, I scratched my head and a handful of hair came out.  Did you know it hurts to lose your hair? It’s surprisingly painful.  By the end of the second round of chemotherapy, every hair on my body disappeared.  I wore a wig which I’d throw it off the minute I walked into my house.

However, here’s the positive side.  I got through it.  I found out how strong my marriage was.  I discovered my friends were really there for me.  I became a cheerleader for other women facing this insidious disease.  I went back to work, seven days a week throughout my chemotherapy.  I was energized, motivated. I began to take on projects I’d put off because I felt I was too busy.  I researched my family tree.  I started traveling to Europe. I learned how to speak Italian.  I wrote two books and plan to write at least two more.  I accepted pink as the color winners wear.  I began to live life ONE DAY AT A TIME and learned “This is the day that the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

I’ve always felt grateful for my life. I’ve been fortunate. But breast cancer taught me how to turn a tragedy into a triumph.  Two years ago, I was diagnosed with lymphoma.  It was easier this time.  No color for lymphoma.  But I knew in my heart, if I could survive one of the most difficult kinds of breast cancer, I could survive lymphoma too.

It’s 2013, and I have joy, twelve grandchildren and counting, speak Italian with gusto, write until my fingers tire, travel.  I’m always looking to learn something new, wanting my life to count, to be remembered as someone who faced adversity, survived, and lived life to the fullest.

I’m told the lymphoma will probably return, and my breast cancer might come back.    But if and when life throws me a lemon, I’ll be gutsy and make pink lemonade.  And when it’s my time to die,  I have every intention of arriving at the grave in a pretty pink dress, skidding in broadside, thoroughly used up…and loudly proclaiming, “Wow, what a ride.” Never stopped living, never gave up, and never stop trying.

JANET SIMCIC grew up in Boston, New York, and Michigan. After graduate school, she taught gifted high school students, ran a secretarial service and co-owned a large construction business with her husband.

Her first fiction book was published in 2011.  “The Man At The Caffe’ Farnese” is available on amazon.com and Kindle.  In addition she has freelanced for The Baptist Bulletin, Travel and Leisure, and The Travel Section of the Orange County Register.

Click on cover to go to Amazon

Her latest book, non-fiction, “An American Chick’s Guide to Italy” was released in October, 2013.

Click on cover to go to Amazon

She continues to write, working on her third and fourth novel, articles for travel, speaks fluent Italian, and is genetically programmed to love everything Italian.

She and her husband reside in Orange, CA.

SONIA MARSH SAYS: I love the way you take the fear out of cancer by your statement,

“I was energized, motivated. I began to take on projects I’d put off because I felt I was too busy.  I researched my family tree.  I started traveling to Europe. I learned how to speak Italian.  I wrote two books and plan to write at least two more.  I accepted pink as the color winners wear.”

I thank you for sharing your inspiring story.

 ***

 Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

Please read the two “My Gutsy Story®” submissions this month from Lola De Maci, Ed Robinson and Boyd Lemon.

Voting for your favorite November “My Gutsy Story®”starts on November 28th until December 11th. The winner will be announced on December 12th.

5 Questions You Must Answer Before You Write Your Book

Dale Griffiths Stamos-
Story Structure Editor

There are five basic questions writers need to ask prior to starting a manuscript. I believe these will save time and help you structure your memoir, or novel.

Manuscript consultant, Dale Griffiths Stamos, mentioned these five questions during her recent presentation at the CWC-Long Beach.
“What’s Your Story?  The 5 Essential Questions of Good Storytelling.”

 Who is your main character?
 What does the protagonist want?
 What’s standing in the way of getting it?
 Do they succeed or fail?
 How did the protagonist change?

I shall share the notes I took during Dale’s seminar, but I would urge you to contact her directly if you need help with your story structure. Dale was my editor, and I truly admire her expert skills at “seeing” the entire story and molding it into one meaningful structure. Her website is: manuscriptconsultant.com

1). When you ask yourself who is your main character?  It could be one person or a group protagonist. For example (a group in a lifeboat) all want the same thing. You can also have a dual protagonist, (a couple) or two protagonists with two story lines.

2). What does your protagonist want? This want, is what drives the entire story. Each scene want is different from the overarching want. The want has to be a life or death need for the character.

3). What’s standing in the way of getting it? is where the antagonist forces or obstacles (usually more than one thing) stand in the way.  There is conflict, and this must always drive the story forward.

4). Do they succeed or fail? This is the resolution. Do they get what they want?  The central dramatic question is answered. Will they succeed?

5). How did the protagonist change? The protagonist(s) has to change in some way. They start out, they have struggles, they become a new being because of it.  It can be a subtle change, or a dramatic change, but there has to be an evolution.

 

Sonia Marsh, DaleGriffiths Stamos Flora Brown at CWC-Long Beach

Dale covered these 5 questions in far more detail during her presentation. I just wanted to give you a few tips to help you think about your story structure.

DALE GRIFFITHS STAMOS is a teacher, a writer, and an award-winning playwright. Please check out her bio here.

 ***

I’m in Florida on vacation and shall post photos from my trip to Key West, and Naples on my Facebook page from time to time. Please check them out.

To Live Life, I Cannot Fear Change by Boyd Lemon

Winter

At age sixty-six, I had lived my whole life in California, most of it on the coast, where the difference between summer and winter is about ten degrees. Some might consider such a climate ideal, and I suppose it is, but I yearned to experience the four seasons. I decided, if not now, when?

I sold my house and sold, gave away or stored most of my possessions, including my car. I rented an apartment in the Back Bay of Boston, sight unseen, and shipped my remaining possessions before I got on a plane, and feeling the rush of freedom, said goodbye to California.

On the plane, a redeye, I knew before the wheels left the ground that I wouldn’t sleep. My mind and body were overflowing with that combination of excitement and fear that took me to the precipice of dysfunction. I labored through those feelings with a firsthand understanding of the workings of human emotion I had recently read about––that fear and excitement result in the same activity within the brain. I feared the cold weather that this California boy had never experienced, the loneliness of knowing only one person in a strange city and a culture that I knew was far different from California.

Upon stepping out of the taxi in front of my apartment building, I slipped on the ice and fell on my ass. Welcome to Boston.

A few days later I awoke at first light, sat up and looked out the window. The world was white. Sheets of snow blew diagonally by my window. My first Nor’ Easter in all its fierceness had been blowing its ice and snow through the night. No sidewalk or street showed through. I could barely make out the top of the yellow fireplug two stories below. Some undeciphered perversity in me wanted to get out there. I dressed while coffee was brewing. After savoring the aroma and taste of the warm coffee sweetened with lots of Stevia, I was even more antsy to get out. This was the real east coast, never before experienced by this California boy, genuine Boston. On top of my regular clothes I donned my Red Sox sweatshirt, jeans–already had on long underwear––and wool socks, then the orange wool scarf my daughter Marsha knitted me last year, my North Face winter coat and heavy, water resistant shoes. I grabbed my ski gloves and keys, locked the door and pulled on the gloves.

Stepping out of the front door of the building, I pulled up the hood of my coat, covering my head and face except my eyes, mouth and nose. I discerned right away that it wouldn’t be wise to try to walk in the deep snow of the unplowed sidewalk.

I felt nothing cold at first, as I trudged down the middle of Haviland Street. The air was thick white. Even the black letters forming “Berklee College of Music” down the street were white.  When I got to Massachusetts Avenue (“Mass Ave” to Bostonians), the snowplows were out, their huge blades pushing mountains of snow against the curb. A few cars followed the plow. My feet sank three or four inches into the snow. Warm in all my paraphernalia, I felt nothing much but a numb nose and the flexing of the muscles in my legs as I pushed and pulled my feet in and out of the snow. Paying no attention to the signal lights, but watching the plows and the cars, I crossed Mass Ave and then Boylston and headed for Newbury, fashion alley. The cold air infused me with energy like Southern California weather never had. I could see through the snow for about a block.

On Newbury dozens of men pushed portable snowplows, clearing the sidewalks for the shoppers who would flood the area in a few hours. I had to walk in the street because most of the sidewalks were still deep in snow or occupied by the portable plows. An occasional dog walker appeared like an apparition out of the white. A jogger glided slowly down the middle of the street. Snow hung from the trees like bleached cotton candy. No green showed through on the pines. Bushes looked like a fancy dessert. Everywhere silence pervaded. All sound and even the smells of the city seemed to be absorbed by the snow. A neighborhood that was usually loud with traffic, sirens, horns and people was as quiet as a cemetery. The motorized plows had not yet come to Newbury. I was hungry, but most of the restaurants didn’t open for brunch for another hour, and I didn’t feel like usual breakfast fare. I turned up Dartmouth to go over to Boylston, where Legal Seafood might be open for brunch.

Thoughts of a hot bowl of clam chowder made me trudge a little faster, probably too fast for safety on the slick street. My face started to sting, like tiny electric shocks on my skin. The snow had turned to raining ice, but the prickly feeling on my skin brightened my spirits more. I really am perverted, I thought, as a young man lumbered by me, uttering to nobody in particular, “This really sucks.” I thought it was glorious.

Boom—a huge block of snow slid off the roof of the nineteenth century Public Library just behind me. Boylston had been plowed, and traffic crept down the street, so I had to walk on the sidewalks that had not yet been shoveled or plowed. My legs were tired and weakened from pushing and pulling through the snow. Nothing was open except Trinity Church and Starbucks.

As I lifted one leg and then the other out of the snow, the Prudential Center and Legal Seafood loomed ahead. It continued to rain ice. My whole face was numb. Time to go in, I thought, and I pushed the revolving door. A blast of warm air hit me in the face. I must admit it felt good to remove all my outer paraphernalia and sit down at the bar at Legal Seafood.

“What would you like to drink?” asked Lacy, the server.

“A glass of Champagne,” I said, grinning.

After three years in Boston I moved to Paris, having learned that if I really want to partake in what life has to offer, I mustn’t fear change.

BOYD LEMON: After a stellar 40-year career as a nationally recognized attorney, Boyd Lemon discovered his passion, writing, and pursued it in the idyllic coastal town of Ventura, California; the literary, art and music scenes of Boston; a Bohemian year on the Left Bank in Paris; and finally by the bucolic rivers and forests of St. Marys, Georgia, where he currently lives.  Boyd’s newest book is Retirement: A Memoir and Guide.  He has published six other books and is now working on his first novel.  He has four adult children and four grandchildren.  His second passion is travel, and he has visited six of the seven continents.

Here is Boyd’s latest book:

Click on cover to go to Amazon

Eat, Walk, Write: An American Senior’s Year of Adventure in Paris and Tuscany


Digging Deep: A Writer Uncovers His Marriages,  a memoir about the author’s journey to understand his role in the destruction of his three marriages
 
And four other books.
 
Check out Boyd Lemon’s Amazon Author Page for more information:
 
Click here for excerpts, reviews, interviews and information about all of my books:
Boyd on Facebook:
Facebook Fan Page:
Twitter: @Boydlemon
 

 SONIA MARSH SAYS: What a “Gutsy” adventure, to uproot at age sixty-six, after spending your whole life in California. I am intrigued to learn more about what prompted your move to Paris, after three years in Boston.

 ***

 Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

Please read the two “My Gutsy Story®” submissions this month from Lola De Maci and Ed Robinson.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Congratulations to Cappy Hall Rearick Winner of October 2013 My Gutsy Story®

I am thrilled to announce Cappy Hall  Rearick  as the winner of the October 2013, “My Gutsy Story®” Anthology series.

Cappy Hall Rearick

You certainly had many fans commenting. Well done. Her story, told with such honesty, is about abandoning her children and how her lifeboat was filled with guilt. The ending is heart-warming.

Cappy Hall Rearick

In second place we have Mayu Molina Lehmann

Mayu Molina Lehmann

Mayu wrote a story about how English, as a second language, enabled her to write more freely.

 

Mayu Molina Lehmann

In third place we have Don Westenhaver, who wrote a truthful story about his experience at a team-building boot camp.

Don Westenhaver

 

Don Westenhaver

I also want to thank Joe Weddington, for his amazing “My Gutsy Story®” about staying positive after all his injuries during war, including PTSD, nerve damage and more. A truly inspiring story.

Joe Weddington

 

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

Would you like to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” and get  published in our 2nd anthology?

Please see guidelines below and contact Sonia Marsh at: sonia@soniamarsh.com for details.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

Our November 2013  stories have started with Lola De Maci and Ed Robinson sharing their “My Gutsy Story®.” Next Monday, Boyd Lemon will share his “My Gutsy Story®.”

How We Took a Leap of Faith and Found Paradise

A Leap Of Faith

My wife and I found ourselves discontented.  We had good jobs, a strong marriage and an all around decent, middle class, American life.  Somehow it wasn’t enough.  We decided to make a change, a really big change.

We decided to quit our jobs and run away to paradise to live on a boat.  At first it was a crazy dream. Later, as we planned and took actual real steps to make it happen, it became a true possibility. Eventually we made our dreams come true.

How did we do it? What steps did we take?  First we tackled our debt. We continued working hard and made it our life’s goal to eliminate all of our debt.  It took several  years of dedication, but we finally managed to rid ourselves of every single debt we had. What a feeling!

Next we saved money. Without a car payment or credit card bills this was not so hard.  We simply kept on living at the same comfort level we previous enjoyed, but put all the now freed up cash into savings. We maxed out our 401k plan contributions. We put every spare cent in the bank.

Along the way we learned to stop buying things we didn’t need.  We simply quit buying anything new unless we could eat it, drink it, or wipe our butts with it. We started donating clothing to Goodwill.  As our load was lightened, we started to feel unburdened.  It was then that we made the decision to get rid of EVERYTHING.  That’s right, we sold or gave away everything we owned, except some clothing, laptop, and a few momentos we couldn’t part with.

One day we decided we had taken enough of the ‘work till you die world’ and we quit the rat race.  We loaded our meager remaining belongings into our pickup truck and headed south on I-95 for Florida. Did we have enough money saved to carry us for the rest of our lives? Nope. Did we have enough to hold us over until we reached Social Security age?  Probably not.  What did we have?  We had enough to buy a decent boat and enough to live on for several years.  We called it our Leap Of Faith.  We were going to live for today.  Tomorrow? Who knows?

Oh what a feeling of freedom we enjoyed driving south.  We had no job to report to.  We had no bills to pay.  Of course, we had no home either, but that didn’t matter to us.  We were only looking ahead.  We landed in Punta Gorda, Florida on January 3, 2010.  We rented a condo for a month while we boat shopped.  Soon we settled on a gorgeous classic trawler, laid our money down and moved aboard.  We named our new home Leap Of Faith.

After a getting acquainted period, we threw the lines, left the marina and set off to explore the west coast of Florida. We lived at anchor, mostly off uninhabited islands. We became one with nature. We made friends with the dolphins and manatees.  We staked claim to our own personal beach.  Every night we celebrated the sunset. Every night we slept the sleep of the contented.

Once we got our sea legs we began to travel. We cruised to the Keys, hopping from island to island until we landed in Key West.

We cruised north, falling in love with Longboat key and the Manatee River.  The place we called home was Pelican Bay, a pristine cove tucked between the islands of Cayo Costa and Punta Blanca.  We would spend months isolated from society, returning only to re-provision occasionally.  Our love for each other deepened dramatically.  We learned so much about each other.  We also learned to appreciate the silence sometimes.  We slowed down our pace and took in the beauty of nature.  We discovered our Eden in Pelican Bay.

Ed and his wife, Kim.

Our blood pressure lowered.  Our heart rates slowed.  Time itself slowed down for us.  We lost weight. We felt healthier.  We felt happier.  We were so damn happy, sometimes we would just sit and laugh at our good fortune.  We still feel that way today.

Money?  Yes we still had to spend some.  Food, fuel, boat maintenance and repairs all added up. Two major boat repairs took a big chunk of what was left of our savings.  We lasted three years before we started to get nervous about how little money we had left.  I constantly reassured my wife, “It will work out.”  Soon enough we returned to civilization.  I wrote a book that is selling moderately well at Amazon.  I also picked up a part-time job at the marina. My wife is waiting tables in town.  I’m well into writing a second book and we are starting to rebuild our bank account.

We have absolutely no regrets.  We’ve got egrets, but no regrets.  What will we do when the bank account gets big enough?  Take off again of course!

ED ROBINSON was a reporter and editor of a weekly newspaper, The Smyrna Times. He was also a contributing writer for The Mariner Magazine, a Maryland based publication covering all things boating and fishing. After twenty years working for a major utility, he quit his job and moved onto a boat. He and his wife Kim are somewhere on the west coast of Florida.

His book Leap Of Faith / Quit Your Job And Live On A Boat is currently a best seller at Amazon.com.

Click on cover to go to Amazon

Ed’s book is available on Amazon. Please join Ed’s Facebook page.

SONIA MARSH SAYS: So nice to read about a couple who chucked it all to live a simple life. I hope we get a chance to meet you in Florida. Thanks for explaining how you were able to do this, in your memoir.

***

PLEASE VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE OCTOBER “My Gutsy Story®” ON THE SIDEBAR

You have until November 13th to vote, and the winner will be announced on November 15th.  You can read all 4 stories by clicking this link, and then vote.

 Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

 

How to Create a Successful Book Launch à la “Academy Awards”

You want a successful book launch right?

So how do you do it?

Well, sitting behind a desk in a bookstore and keeping your fingers crossed that people will show up is not the way.

Just like any successful party, it takes planning. And I don’t mean a few e-mails asking your family and friends to show up; no, I’m talking “ACADEMY AWARDS” style planning.

Now before you say, “Sonia, that’s ridiculous, I can’t afford that, or that takes too much effort, I’m going to stop you right now. It’s all up to you.

Do you want it to be successful or not?

If so, just like anything you want in life, it takes effort, and that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun at the same time.

So back to the ”ACADEMY AWARDS” of book launches.

Here’s what I did to launch our first My Gutsy Story® Anthology: True Stories of Love, Courage and Adventure From Around the World, on September 26th, 2013.

I’m not an event planner, nor did I hire one. I’m just an ordinary indie author.

Pick a venue 3-9 months before the event. At first I planned to have it at a beautiful library where many well-known authors have spoken. When I got turned down, I found a movie theater.

Ask your contacts to help you.  It’s surprising how many people are willing to help you if you just ask. Relationships are reciprocal, and if they see you’re willing to help others, they are more inclined to help you.


Decide on a theme and use it as a promotional tool for the media. They’re not really interested in a book launch from an unknown author. “Bring Out the Gutsy in You” is what I selected to generate interest.

Get a keynote speaker you admire to make a short 15-minute speech. You might be surprised how much easier this is than you think. I asked Marybeth Bond, “The Gutsy Traveler” to speak at my event, and she said she would love to help me.

Sonia Marsh with Marybeth Bond

Invite a Panel of authors to add a lively discussion around the theme of your event. It’s easier to do when you launch an Anthology, however, there’s no reason why you can’t do the same with a traditional book launch. The more authors unite, the better for everyone, including your audience.

Sonia Marsh standing, Linda Joy Myers, Jason Matthews, Marybeth Bond and Marla Miller

Get sponsors to donate door prizes and create a large poster with their logos to display during the event. When you have a keynote speaker, as well as a panel, it’s easier to get a media buzz started.

8 Sponsors with Fabulous Door Prizes

Donate a % of book sales to a non-profit related to your book/event. This will also help you get media coverage. We donated a % to WomanSage, a non-profit that helps women in transition. Many of the stories in the My Gutsy Story® Anthology are written by women who have overcome obstacles in their lives. WomanSage helps women in transition, so it was the perfect match.
Get a team of friends to volunteers (4-5) and decide on which jobs suit their personality. For example, outgoing volunteers can greet your guests.

Arlene Deans a volunteer with the door prize tickets.

 Supersize it, and turn it into an Academy Awards Party.

Extras:

Hire a local publicist to get you on local radio, “Real People OC”, local PBS-SoCal TV and in the papers. (I hired Barbara Kimler, a wonderful local publicist who did just that for me. Click on the links.)
Hire a Professional Film Crew to film the event (See the film excerpt above.) Copies of the DVD 90-minutes with Marybeth Bond and the panel are available for sale for $10.00 shipping.) E-mail sonia@soniamarsh .com if you’re interested.
Hire a Professional photographer
Have some food and wine

The main reason this launch was a success is thanks to the people who helped me, and the kindness of those who participated. As Jeff Goins mentions in his article, “One Incredibly Overlooked Key to a Successful Book Launch,” 

“The Secret Behind Launching (or Growing) Any Business is People”

***

Thanks to popular demand, we plan on doing another event for the launch of our 2nd My Gutsy Story® Anthology: True Stories of Love, Courage and Adventure From Around the World.

We encourage all of you to keep submitting your stories if you wish to be considered for publication in the Anthology.

 Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

 

How I Finally Got My Degree After 30 Years.

“My Gutsy Story®” by Lola Di Giulio De Maci

The Beginning of Tomorrow

I had always wanted to go back to school. And one day, thirty years later, I did. I don’t know what gave me the guts to do it other than a real burning desire to finish something I had started years ago. When the day came to register, I was terrified and got “cold feet.”

“I decided that I’m not going back to school,” I told my family. “I don’t really want this after all. I’m going to forget about it.”

My daughter, who was a freshman in college at the time, sensed my apprehension. “Mom,” she said pleadingly, “you’ve wanted to do this all your life. I’ll go with you to register; I’ll even stand in line for you.” And that she did.

I had dropped out of college in my senior year, and now it was like starting all over again. I didn’t know where to start. As chance would have it, in one of the first textbooks I opened as “an older returning student,” I came across a quote by Lewis Carroll from Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass: “Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, “and go on till you come to the end; then stop.” My sentiments exactly, Mr. Carroll. Thank you.

But it had been a long time since I had “cracked a book.” I studied sometimes eight hours a day, forgetting to eat lunch or feed the goldfish.  My husband and I would have to make dates in order to see one another, and at times I felt guilty for choosing to spend an hour in the library and then having to make dinner from a box.

When my graduation day finally arrived, I was ecstatic. Not only was I fulfilling a lifelong dream, but my daughter was also graduating – on the same day. We had a mother-daughter celebration with family and friends, proudly displaying our newly-acquired Bachelor of Arts degrees. I have never been so proud of my daughter. And when my daughter stood next to me at picture-taking time, our black robes blending into one, I could tell that she was very proud of her mother.

Shortly after graduation, I attained a teaching credential. And because I loved to learn and found teaching to be one of the best avenues to learning, I decided to continue my studies and go for a Master of Arts degree in education and creative writing. It was an excellent choice. I loved teaching, and I loved writing. And with a degree in Interdisciplinary Studies, I could combine the two.

Graduate school was exhausting and overwhelming at times. I cut my hair short and got the first permanent of my life so that I wouldn’t have to bother with setting my hair… and I found out that I could live without my nightly rendezvous with Ted Danson from “Cheers.”

The next two years flew by, but it wasn’t easy. At one point, I came home from school, threw my books on the kitchen counter, and announced to my family: “I’m quitting! I’ve had it!” After crying for a couple of hours and talking it over with my family, I realized that I had come too far to quit now. I had run the race well, and I was tired. I decided I would take one day at a time, resting along the sidelines.

I was in my final quarter of graduate school with only one class left to take when I found out I had cancer. Cancer. Was I going to die?  Would I have to leave my children so soon? Would I be able to finish school?

A couple days later, shaken and apprehensive, I appeared at my professor’s door, leaving a puddle of tears and broken dreams on his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can work something out.”

“But I have to go to Los Angeles for seven weeks of radiation therapy and won’t be able to come to class.” He suggested that I do my work in Los Angeles and send it to him through the mail.  We could keep in touch by telephone.

“And don’t give up,” he said adamantly. “I have never met a student with so much determination. You are the kind of student teachers come to school for. And you have to use that same determination to fight this thing.”

I promised him I would finish my school work, and I would fight for my life. The kitchen table in my apartment in Los Angeles became my desk for the next seven weeks.  I would go for my treatment and return to my apartment to study and write my papers. I mailed my completed assignments from a post office nearby.

Right before Christmas, I graduated with honors with a Master of Arts degree in education and English. My graduation day was special for a lot of reasons. I had finished my radiation treatments and had finished my school work. My husband and my children, along with my mother, sister, and brother, were in the audience of the auditorium when they called my name and handed me my diploma. My eyes met their eyes and I wanted to shout, “Hey! Look at me! I did it!” And after I passed my tassel to the left side of my cap from the right, I waved to them like I was royalty. Queen Elizabeth had nothing on me!

Lola’s Graduation Cake – Master’s degree

As I write this piece, I am eighteen years free of breast cancer. I take each day and live it, celebrating the miracle of each brand-new morning.

Over the years I have had the privilege of teaching many children and have lived to see them doing great things with their lives. And best of all, I have lived to see my daughter become a teacher and my son, a psychologist. Talk about pride!

And in my quiet times, I write – something I’ve loved to do since I was a child.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

LOLA Di GIULIO De MACI  lives in southern California where she gathers inspiration for her  stories, some appearing in The Ultimate Series, Tending Your Inner Garden, the Kids’ Reading Room of the Los Angeles Times, and in several editions of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Lola realized her dream when she graduated with her bachelor’s degree at age 51, and a master’s degree at 55. A retired teacher, she continues writing from her loft overlooking the San Bernardino Mountains. Contact her at: LDeMaci@aol.com.

SONIA MARSH SAYS: Your story Lola, is the perfect example of someone “gutsy,” who never gave up. I love what your teacher said, “You are the kind of student teachers come to school for.” Your family must be as proud of you as you are of them.

Remember to VOTE for your favorite October 2013 here.

 ***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

 

Vote for Your Favorite October 2013 “My Gutsy Story®”

It’s time to vote for your favorite one of four “My Gutsy Story®” submissions. You have from now until November 13th to vote on the sidebar, (only one vote per person) and the winner will be announced on November 14th, and will select a prize from our list of sponsors.

Our first story is by Joe Weddington “The Unseen Bullett.”

Joe Weddington

Our second story is by Mayu  Molina Lehmann “Writing in a second language.”

Mayu Molina Lehmann

The third story is by Cappy Hall “To Have and Have Not.”

Cappy Hall Rearick

The fourth story of the month is by Don Westenhaver “Team Building Is Not for the Faint of Heart.”

Don Westenhaver

I hope you enjoy their stories and vote for your favorite one. Please check out their books as well. There are links to them at the bottom of each story.

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

click on cover for Amazon link

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

“Team Building Is Not for the Faint of Heart” by Don Westenhaver

Team Building Is Not for the Faint of Heart

I spent almost 40 years working for big corporations.  The pay was great, but the work was high pressure and demanding. With thousands of employees to manage, department heads had to work closely with each other.  This led to a ridiculous set of exercises named Team-Building.

In 1991 I had been promoted into an executive position just in time to attend a 3-day exercise in Warner Hot Springs, which was so far from civilization that the rustic hotel rooms had no televisions.  I was so nervous about the event I felt nauseous.  A born introvert, I was always intimidated by social situations surrounded by semi-strangers talking about sports.  But this was serious.  If I made an idiot of myself at this event, all the company big shots would forever remember my foolishness as their first impression of me.

Early the next morning, we met in a conference room.  There were about 30 of us – 29 men and one woman.  They all seemed to know each other, but looked at me like I was painted green.  A team-building consultant led the first exercise with an introductory speech as we sat around one large table.  He held a tennis ball in his hand.

“I am going to throw this ball at one of you.  This person will then throw it to another person and then say something nice about that person.  That person will then pick someone else to throw the ball to and say something nice about that person.  And so on.”

You already know where this is heading, don’t you?  The most popular guys were chosen first.  Being a stranger, I was the second to the last person to receive the ball.  I had to throw it to the last person and say something nice about him.  This was a challenge.  If he had had some virtue, he would have already been picked.  I can’t remember what I said.  Maybe I just passed out.

Next the consultant led us outside and grabbed a hula hoop.  We all had to stand in a circle holding hands.  I hate holding hands, especially with other men.  The consultant broke the circle for a moment to insert the hula hoop around one person’s arm.

“Now I want you to work this hula hoop around this circle without letting go of your neighbors’ hands.  Step through the hoop with your legs and loop it over your head to the next person.”  This was just plain silly, but at least I survived it without losing my balance and falling over.

For the rest of the day we were broken into five teams which competed with each other.  A vice president was put in charge of each team and they took turns choosing their team members.  You all remember how humiliating this was in grammar school?  Being the last one chosen?  Well, it’s even worse when you’re in your 40’s.

The five teams played problem-solving games.  For example, we were given a few planks of wood and some bricks and told to use them to cross a pond.  It would be easy with enough wood and bricks, but there weren’t enough, so we had to be creative – to “think outside the box”.  Almost all executives are “Type A” personalities: driven, self-confident, and aggressive.  So each person thought he had the best plan and we had to debate which plan was best.  Just like with a real business problem.

Another example was to climb a 12 foot fence, without a ladder.  We had to lift a guy to the top and then he pulled another guy up, etc.  I started enjoying the events.  A handful of us had fought in Vietnam, giving us a common history to bond over.  We remarked about how some of the games had parallels in combat operations.

Now part of a six-man team instead of the initial 30-person mob, I felt more confident.  In each game I tossed out a suggestion or two about overcoming the obstacles. The other five guys listened and nodded, which encouraged me to continue to speak up.

On the second day, we got to climb trees.  It was a day I will never forget.  We took turns strapping ourselves into harnesses hooked to ropes and pulleys, and then climbing to a platform on the top of a 50 foot tree.  The objective was to jump off the platform and grab a trapeze bar.  Of course if I missed the bar, I’d be saved by the harness, assuming I did not swing face first into a tree.  I loved it!

Some of the games were done in pairs and we were matched up by weight.  As one of the smallest men, I was matched up with the lone woman, which was fine.

All day we were like kids again, swinging across water with ropes, diving into trampolines, playing tug of war, and racing across tree limbs.  The grand finale was to walk across a 4 inch beam between two trees, high in the air, with a harness, of course.  The consultant asked for volunteers to try it blindfolded.  I shouted out “I’ll do it!” and the next thing I knew I was a circus performer.  I made it all the way across with no problem, to the cheers of the group.

That evening over drinks we all told stories of our victories, and I finally felt like I belonged.

 

DON WESTENHAVER served with the Marines in Vietnam as a radioman and interpreter.  His fascination with different cultures grew with many visits to Asia, Europe, Latin America, and Africa as a finance executive. These experiences inspired his first two novels, The Whiplash Hypothesis and The Red Turtle Project.  Don’s third and fourth novels, Nero’s Concert and Alexander’s Lighthouse, spring from his life-long interest in ancient Rome, backed up by intense research and many travels.

Don and his wife assist with three different charities, play golf, read novels, and love to travel.   They are blessed with two daughters and two grandchildren. Please visit Don’s website.

Don Westenhaver’s Books:

Click on cover for Amazon

Click on cover for Amazon

Click on cover for Amazon

Click on cover for Amazon

SONIA MARSH SAYS:  Your story brought back memories of elementary school when I was not selected by my classmates to participate in an event. As an adult, I started thinking how sad it is that we no longer play games, “Swinging across water with ropes, diving into trampolines, playing tug of war, and racing across tree limbs.”

 ***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” which may be included in our 2nd ANTHOLOGY.

Please view our 1st Published Anthology here.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

Here are the stories we have in October: Joe Weddington’s was the first story this month, followed by Marcia Molina-Lehmann,  and Cappy Hall Rearick.

Voting for the favorite “My Gutsy Story” of the month will start on October 31st until November 13th. The winner will be announced on November 14th.

Thanks and please share if you enjoyed this post.