The Spring Selfie by Mackenzie Crowne

As a woman with a clear memory of the first moon landing, I consider it an accomplishment that I even know what a selfie is, never mind having mastered the art taking one. Okay, just kidding. Well, maybe not about the taking one part. I haven't quite mastered the talent and usually end up cutting off most of my head, but the truth is, while I can be old school about some things, I raised two new millennial kids and I'm hip! J I'm also a romance author. I write stories for women of all ages, therefore I must keep abreast of what today's trends are so my stories are fresh and up to date. And speaking of a breast - I've understood the concept of a selfie since long before it was named word of the year a few years back. In fact, a selfie saved my life.

Yep, you read that right. If not for a selfie, I wouldn't be here. I'm talking about the original definition of the word of course - the breast self-exam - and it's the best gift I ever gave myself. So this spring, why not share the gift of life? Remind your friends and loved ones to do those selfies. Then go ahead and be a little selfish. Give yourself a selfie too.


This spring breast care reminder is brought to you by WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR NIPPLE? A survivor’s guide to navigating the breast cancer abyss with humor and hope. Available at Mac’s Amazon page.

When Mac isn’t reminding her friends to do life-saving self-exams, she spends her time weaving HEAs for her characters, like Meggy Calhoun, the heroine of THE BILLIONAIRE’S CON, available at Amazon and wherever e-books are sold.

When a #Literary #Cliché Becomes a Reality by Mackenzie Crowne

Cli·ché

/klē’SHā/

noun

1.      a phrase or opinion that is overused and portrays a lack of original thought.

2.      a very predictable or unoriginal thing or person.

As a brand-new author (meaning after years of penning stories, someone from the professional literary world was finally seeing my work), I recall being advised to avoid clichés. I don’t remember my specific offense, but that doesn’t matter. There are many examples of literary clichés and I’m sure I’ve been guilty of including quite a few of them in my various writings, especially in those early years. I like to think I’ve grown in my craft, but let’s face it, some clichés are almost impossible to avoid simply because they are so prevalent in real life.

In my opinion, one of the most commonly seen examples of a literary cliché is the use of cancer as a vehicle or plot element. Think about it, how many stories have you read where someone connected to a main character has died of cancer? When viewed from an unemotional standpoint, a character’s diagnosis of one cancer or another is a logical happening. After all, cancer is the second leading cause of death. People die and that goes for fictional people as well. In the romance genre, where I write, characters often project an underlying sadness that defines them. What is sadder than a hero or heroine who has lost a loved one to such a vicious and indiscriminate disease?

I freely admit I’ve been guilty of using this ready-made plot element in the past. As a survivor, I vainly believed I had a special insight into the matter. On a certain level, I guess I did, but this week I learned how ignorant I was to the horrid reality of those who have lived through a tragic loss due to cancer.

Pat, Mac and Deb

For the past two years, Deb, one of my best friends for close to thirty years, has waged a heroic battle against peritoneal cancer. This past Thursday, this amazing woman decided she was weary of the fight and said goodbye to those of us who love her. Everything I thought I knew about cancer has been uprooted and flipped on its head. By the same token, my concept of the "cancer cliché" has been irrevocably altered as well and not just because a broken heart changes one’s perspective. 

Deb's strength and fortitude, her determination in the face of cruel odds, her debilitating pain as the end drew near, and the crushing grief shredding her children, family and friends now that she has she slipped away from us are not plot elements and could never be. They are a story in and of themselves. A story of amazing courage, humbling faith, and raging grief.

Perhaps one day I will tell that story, but I will never look at the use of cancer as a convenient literary vehicle again. After what I witnessed over the past two years, I simply can't. 

   

When Mac isn't relishing time spent with good friends and family, she keeps herself busy weaving HEAs for her characters, like Nicki Guimond Everson, the heroine of IRRESISTIBLE DECEPTIONS, Mac’s romantic suspense available from Entangled Publishing.

What are friends for? by Barbara Edwards

Getting into the routine again hasn’t been easy.  I finally realized I needed to resume the routine I had before all the chaos that broke it into pieces. As you may recall, my husband had cancer. It turned into months of treatment, other issues and finally time for recovery. He just had his second six month cat scan and is still clear.

What a relief. Then I discovered having all the stress relieved didn’t release my creativity.

In fact, I felt empty. 

Writing is a journey. I’ve used emotions and incidents from my life to fill out my plots, but I couldn’t use this. Thinking about what occurred gave me nightmares. the days waiting in the hospital. The recurring chemotherapy treatments. The surgery that lasted hours. Just mentioning it makes my shoulders stiff with tension.

So  how do I take this phase of my journey and turn it into a positive step.

I

 know all the tricks. Take a walk in the woods. sit by a lake or river. Listen to the wind. Look at the stars. Read a book.  I bet you have a special way to refill that empty tank and could share  it.

I tried going to RWA chapter meetings and found the other authors a source of strength. Everyone had serious problems. Everyone was hanging onto their dream of writing that book by their fingernails. It was a comfort and a challenge. They talked me into volunteering to be president. 

So here I am. I’m writing again. Because of my friends.

Check out the on-line class we’re sponsoring at www.charteroakromancewriters.com

Marie Tuhart shares the basic’s of writing erotic romance.

I’m taking it because I still choke at writing love scenes.

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Some Good in the Bad and Ugly by Margo Hoornstra

Last Wednesday morning I received a diagnosis of colon cancer.

I won’t lie to you I’m still processing the news and desperately looking for an up-side. Caught Early, that’s good, mine’s highly curable they say. Ninety-two percent from what I’ve read.

This whole saga started ten years ago with my first colonoscopy. (Those of you who are more – ahem – mature, know what I’m talking about.) After the twenty minute procedure, I had a ‘come back in ten years’ result. Yay! I’ll take it! Especially since my husband is one of those, he calls himself a polyp farm, who gets to do this every couple of years or so.

I was luckier than that.

Fast forward a decade. During my annual physical the end of June last year, the doctor ordered a certain test for me to do at home. Those results were negative all across the board as it were. I’m home free!

She ordered a colonoscopy anyway. Whatever.

Silly me, I put off scheduling the thing.  I had reasons. I was busy. There was a month long work commitment I’d previously agreed to. In and around that, I had a book to write. After that, summer was winding down and my husband and I wanted to get some use out of our new fifth wheel. Then fellow Rose Diane Burton invited me to join her at a week end writer’s conference. Another long term, if temporary, employment opportunity came my way I couldn’t turn down. As I said busy.

In October, I finally did call the physician group I’d been referred to four months before only to learn they were closing one office and would open another one in January. (Was the universe trying to tell me something?) Should I wait until the first of the year or see about referral to another group? When I posed that question to the receptionist at my doctor’s office, I got a very polite – well duh – it’s not a good idea to wait response and a new referral.

Soon, I had an appointment for the dreaded screening procedure. Would you believe the very next day they called to push the appointment out another couple of weeks to the middle of November. Something about double booking.

At long last the day of my appointment arrived and I had the thing completed, where they discovered a rather large polyp, but could only take out part of it. For some reason, immediately after this doctor strongly suggested surgery. “Then you’re done with it and it’s gone.” That was the route I took, even after the subsequent lab results on the nasty specimen came back non-cancerous with the recommendation to simply have a repeat colonoscopy in another year.

Though I really didn’t want to, I stayed with the surgery option, at this point scheduling out another month until the holidays were over. After all, who wants to be in the hospital at Christmas? With the upcoming surgery on my mind the whole time, we got through November and December.

All along, both doctors stressed they believed this was nothing more than a benign growth with the potential to become a problem. On the off chance there was something there, I was told, the surgical technique was the same as if it were a known cancer. All of the growth would be removed along with some of my digestive tract and a number of connecting lymph nodes. This was done and all 22 of mine came back negative, that’s good! Mine was a surgical cure. No further treatment needed. Here’s hoping. Doesn’t make it any less scary. Though I regret my cavalier attitude in putting the test off initially, I am so glad, for whatever reason, I was steered to the surgery.

A writer friend had the same thing seven years ago and she’s just fine. Even though a blood test and CT scan and visit with an oncologist are in my near future, I have to believe I will be equally fine as well.

Which is good, because as I said before, I’m busy.

On the Surface, Book One in my Brothers in Blue series with The Wild Rose Press is in production and I have edits to return. On the Force, Book Two is in rewrites and due in October.

Plus, a former editor of mine asked me to be part of an upcoming box set of stories that take place in and around a casino. It just turns out I have a half finished project the will fit that bill just fine. I think I’ll call it Give Us A Chance.

Then there are two more Brothers in Blue books, yet to be written, On the Make and On the Move due in 2018 and 2019.

Again. Busy. Even so, positive thoughts and prayers are welcome and encouraged.

My days to blog here are the 11^th and 23^rd. For more about me and my stories, please visit my WEBSITE

Cancer is a six letter word by Barbara Edwards

I have had friends with breast cancer. its difficult for a woman to think about all the ramifications of losing such a significant part of their body. The two years ago I had a lump removed from my left breast. All the worry, fear and anger at not knowing what was going to be the result made me crazy. Thank God the growth was not cancer. There. 

I named the enemy. Cancer.

Then my husband was diagnosed with bladder cancer and went through surgery. Its been six months and he’s gone for his follow-up cat scan. He’s cancer free so far.

So I didn’t want to go for my follow-up. I find the process really uncomfortable and put it off. Then the dog jumped up and bumped my breast with his nose. 

My dog is a 70 pound Belgian Malinois and it hurt. My breast was sore for several weeks and I finally made a doctor appointment to have it checked. I didn’t feel anything- no lump or swelling but I worried. because it hurt. 

As I waited I realized the doctor was going to send me for another mammogram anyway so I made an appointment. As I remembered it was uncomfortable, but i was in and out in an hour. 

Then they called to ask me to come in for a follow up. Deja Vu. There was an area that needed to be magnified. I had another suspicious growth. Darn.

So I’ve had the second done. The doctor showed me my ex-ray for last time from my left breast and compared the new one of my right breast. The same type of cells only in a tight cluster. 

I’ll be going back for a biopsy, then have the area removed if it’s pre-cancerous. 

I’m holding my breath. It’s funny how fear does different things to you. I shut down my imagination. I know what to expect this time, but I’m dreaming about the procedure, what they’ll find. When my husband was undergoing treatment I met women who were going for chemo after surgery. They were such strong, determined women. 

I will do whatever is necessary. 

For my readers: Don’t put off that mammogram. 

I keep wondering if an angel made my dog jump. 

Let me know if you had a coincidence that changed your life.

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It's not easy to write by Barbara Edwards

Barbara faces the bear

It’s not easy to pick-up my writing routine after spending the past five months dealing with my husband’s health issues. Some writers could say there is no reason to keep from writing and I tried. 

I found there aren’t enough good hours in the day. You know. Those minutes where the ideas flow and the words pile up are precious as pearls. I didn’t have many. I was driving him for medical appointments, picking up prescriptions, helping him with daily activities, cooking, extra laundry, shopping for groceries and sitting at his side for hours when he needed support or love.

I would sit in the evening after leaving him in the hospital and stare at the television as a blur moved over the screen. All I wanted was a good night’s rest. Most nights I fell into bed.

So now he’s recovering. The cancer has been removed. He’s doing exercise to regain his strength and I’m desperately working at returning to the routine I had before.

I will always be a caretaker along with being a wife.

Sculpture in Montana, 

I’ll never be the same.

I was surprised by the ax that fell on our lives. And I find that I missed writing more than anything. Writing is what I do. A writer is who I am.

The process is important. The regular hours doing what I do have been hard to regain, but I’m slowly forcing the other demands into place. 

I’m dreaming of my characters. I’m giving myself space to find my creativity. I’m letting go of the guilt for missing so much time.

Bundled against the weather

Do I have any advice for anyone else trodding this road? Hell, yes. Do you?

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Life Happens by Barbara Edwards

Most writers will tell you life happens. The work is going good and instead of creating a great plot, reality plops a load of poop on you. I had that happen. And I haven’t written anything for almost a month.

My husband was diagnosed with cancer. He’s going through treatment and my life has squeezed down to doctor visits, then chemo treatments, and finally the surgery to remove the affected area. 

It’s been a strange journey. As many older men, my husband had to get up to empty his bladder during the night. He complained and I nagged him to go to a urologist. The doctor recommended he have his prostate trimmed and the eurethra opened. Its a family common operation. My husband wanted to wait until we returned from out winter months in Florida. 

I did my usual nag, nag nag. Get it done before we go or you’ll be up every night and complaining all winter. 

He went in for surgery at the end of November. 

The doctor called me from the operating room. He found a growth in the bladder. Did I want him to remove it or wait until my husband woke up, gave his permission and then put him under again. I said go.

So he has bladder cancer. Stage two or three.

Next is have chemo. December is going to the clinic, the doctor, bloodwork and he can’t tolerate the chemo. It’s hurting his kidneys and that’s bad.

So the removal is scheduled. Okay. I asked a to of questions, did research on the web, ask more questions. There’s not much alternative.

So two weeks ago he goes in for major surgery. Take out the bladder, the prostate, two lymph nodes and cut a section from his small intestine to make the new ducts to drain his kidneys.

A major operation, but the area is clear of anything strange and they are doing biopsies of the removed tissue.

The good part? If he’d waited the extra six months, it would have been stage four.

The other good part? He’ll be able to resume his life.

Hopefully I will too. I have three books waiting for me. 

My advice to all of you? I don’t have any. Life happens.

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Flexibility by Diane Burton

She stood in the storm and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails. ~ Elizabeth Edwards

My niece posted the above quote on Facebook last spring, after she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Though we live far apart, I’ve followed the journey she’s taken over the past year via emails and Facebook. Double mastectomy and reconstruction, chemo, radiation. All to conquer this disease that has hit so many women in my family—my aunt, her daughter, and both my sisters. The men haven’t had it easy either: my dad and two of his brothers with kidney cancer; the same brothers, bladder cancer; grandfather, lung cancer. Plus my cousin with breast cancer also had uterine and ovarian cancer.

The women are all survivors. With the exception of one uncle, the men have died.

Why is it that the survival rate of the women outpaced the men? Granted, the men were all older. Then there’s my aunt who is still living at 93. I wondered if it was early detection. If the women went for regular checkups and mammograms. If the men weren’t as attuned to their bodies and/or didn’t go to the doctor when they first noticed symptoms. Besides kinship, the men had one thing in common. They were all long-time smokers. My dad actually survived kidney cancer but succumbed to COPD. None of the women, my niece included, were smokers.

No matter the cause, I think women know how to be flexible. When life throws you a nasty curve, you either give in/give up or you adjust your sails. Change is hard for everyone. Learning to adjust to change makes one stronger. My dad never changed. He smoked right up to the end. The hospice nurse just said to turn off his oxygen before helping him light up. Geez, I can’t believe I’m telling you that I actually helped my dad light his cigarettes then made sure the ashes didn’t fall into the bedclothes. At that point, why deny him that little pleasure as he was dying?

Years earlier when my dad used to visit, I wouldn’t let him smoke in my house. Not only did cigarette smoke irritate my eyes and nose, my young son had asthma. No way would I expose him to second-hand smoke. So why did I change my attitude when my dad was dying? I could have said no way. Could have insisted that not smoking would prolong his life. That I wouldn’t help him kill himself quicker. I rationalized that if I helped him I prevented him from burning the house down—with my mother and me inside. Not to mention what fire would have done to him.

With all the cancer in my family, whenever something odd shows up on my mammograms, I try not to freak out. I’m not always successful. In the last couple of years, something odd has shown up. Not always the same, either. As I go through ultrasounds and/or biopsies, I worry that I won’t be strong enough if it is cancer. Then I think of my sisters, aunt, cousin, niece, and Elizabeth Edwards. Life dealt them a crappy hand, but they made the best of it. They adjusted their sails and moved on. Can I do anything less?