Heart of Divorce: Advice from a Judge

by Susan P. Baker

Written from the perspective of a judge, who is also a divorced person, this book helps you realize that you are not alone. The experience is painful to everyone, but this book can help you make it through without too much misery by following a few simple steps. If you have always taken the high road in your dealings with others, this is no time to go against your nature. People that have been married can part ways and, if not be friends, at least treat each other with dignity and respect. By setting out things that need to be considered logically before making the plunge into the murky waters of the divorce court system. It isn't an easy system. From clerks to judges, you will be met by a cast of characters who may seem to have confusing you as their only goal. Often the system is like a giant octopus, its tentacles ready to reach out and ensnare its victim. The bigger the fight the victim (you) puts up, the tighter its grip (the more confusing the system), and the farther you seem from the shore (from getting divorced). You didn't know the octopus was there; you thought you knew the route from point A to point B. Suddenly a frightening new element was introduced into the equation. You felt you would never wade into the courtroom for the final hearing. You need an alternative to the costly nastiness that seems to be a trademark of divorce. During the past twenty (20) years, I have seen people squander tens of thousands of dollars on lawyers and experts to help them win in court. Sometimes the money was spent in divorces with large estates. Other times it was spent to make sure a party got custody of the children. Often, both property and children were at stake. This book will make a world of difference for you.

136 pages, Perfect Paperback

First published October 1, 2004

About the author

My English war bride mother was a real penny pincher, but in the early years of their marriage, my parents had to pinch pennies. Not long after my mother arrived in the U.S., she encouraged my father to complete his education. He used the GI Bill to obtain a law degree while she was having four babies and working part time doing such odd jobs as collecting the money out of coin-operated machines in washaterias.

We moved to Galveston when I was four, which is when my father claimed he taught me to read. We lived on the water, swimming, fishing, and crabbing in Offatts Bayou. As far as I can remember, we had no purchased books in our house when I was growing up. We didn't have the money. But Mom took the four of us to the Rosenberg Library every two weeks where we'd check out the maximum number of books allowed, six each. We even took library books on vacation with us so we could read them in the car instead of fussing and constantly asking, "Are we there yet?"

I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. I used to write little stories as well as entertain my invisible friend, Sally, who lived in my side of the closet. My parents discouraged me from seeking a writing career, so after several false starts I eventually obtained a BS in Criminal Justice.

I finally was hired as a Probation Officer about a week before I started law school. I was married with a couple of kids of my own by then, so I worked and attended Law School (in Houston) for three years.

I mostly practiced criminal and family law. In fact, I was board certified in family law. After eight years of practicing law, I ran for district court judge and was elected. I was the first woman in Galveston County to run.

By that time, I was writing a lot. I'd published My First Murder. I moved away and back to Galveston several times and now live in Cypress near my younger daughter.

People often approach me with ideas for books, but with a background like mine, I have no shortage of my own.

Reviews

[Susan Reyna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very clear advice. Brings up topics you may not think of when you are considering divorce. Has many practical examples.

[Roxy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Informative for those debating on getting a divorce.