Of course, if you knew my brother, you would immediately understand why those two scenarios alone (1. Calling me, 2. At work) would be cause for concern. Put them together, and one has a recipe for a full-fledged panic attack. All this before he said two words.

His message? “Mom’s not doing well and she won’t go to the doctor. Can you call her? She listens to you.”

If I wasn’t so afraid, I would have choked on a snort of laughter. Mom listen to me? Right.

What you may have surmised from the title of this post is that my mom has emphysema. A few months back, the doctor diagnosed her at the moderate phase of the disease. Depending on whom you ask, this could be stage 2 or 3 (out of 4). You’re probably thinking—shouldn’t her doctor be able to clarify which phase she’s in? Yep, he should. But he merely smiles when she asks. He’s 88 years old.

Back to the story–I hadn’t been home in a while, so I told my brother that I’d make a trip down there (5 hours away) after work and cart her off to the doctor the next day.

His next bombshell? “I think she’s beyond her regular doctor. She needs to go to the hospital.”

See the full post at Romance University blog

Way to go!

Tracey

C.J. still needs our help, though. She’s looking at over $8,000 in expenses and travel to bring little Johanna home from China. As an added incentive, C.J.’s friends have donated some awesome prize giveaways to folks who donate.

To all those who have helped or will help, C.J. sends you love and hugs.

Find out more information on C.J.’s blog. You can get there by clicking on the Starbucks button below.

Hugs, Tracey

Here’s C.J.’s story. More information can be found at her blog http://cjredwine.blogspot.com.

Hugs, Tracey

C.J.: We had three biological boys in four years and then I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. I had a hysterectomy and while I mourned the fact that I couldn’t have any more biological children, I was certain our family wasn’t finished. My husband wasn’t so sure.  I’d talked about adopting and I always saw us with a little girl from China. He came up with a ton of reasons why now wasn’t the right time to adopt. Then, on Mother’s Day of 2005, he leaned over to me in church and said, “We have a daughter in China. We need to start the adoption proceedings to bring her home.” I adjusted to this unexpected news (we hadn’t discussed adoption for months) in about 15 seconds. 

The next day, we began researching adoption and we picked out her name: Johanna Faith. Johanna means God’s Gracious Gift and Faith is what it is taking to bring her home. We signed up with Chinese Children Adoption International agency based out of Colorado. We completed our stateside paperwork and homestudy within a few months, sent off our dossier to China with the understanding that it would be a 6-8 month wait, and eagerly planned to bring our daughter home. Soon, though, we began to hear rumors that the wait time was extending. Then we heard that the government had cracked down on orphanages who were receiving money from the state but who weren’t keeping all of their beds full and the wait slowed to a crawl. Our dreams of having her home for Christmas were dashed. And then our dreams for having her home in time for summer were dashed as well. Before we knew it, another Christmas had passed and we were still waiting. Meanwhile, the Olympics were coming to Beijing, and the word was most adoption processes would stop altogether because China didn’t want unfavorable international attention on their orphanages.

As the wait stretched from 8 months to three years, I struggled with depression. I could hardly bear Christmas, because she wasn’t yet there. I shut the door of her bedroom and left it closed because I couldn’t bear to walk past it in the hall. It hurt to think about having a child out there whom I couldn’t protect. Couldn’t love. Couldn’t save. Three years became four with no real change. Our homestudy expired. Our immigration petition expired. Three times. Our fingerprints expired. Four times. And China raised the orphanage and court fees by thousands while we waited. Suddenly, the cushion of money we’d fundraised at the start of this process was almost gone and China was picking up speed in their child match program.

In September, it will be five years since we officially started our adoption process to bring Johanna home. We expect to receive her picture, information, and permission to travel sometime by the middle of September.

I opened her bedroom door for the first time in 3 1/2 years.

And we need to raise $8,000 to cover travel and the cash required to pay the orphanage for Johanna’s freedom. The thought behind Skip a Starbucks Day is that if everyone who reads this post and feels a tug on their heart for the plight of a little orphaned Chinese girl would give up a personal indulgence (like a cup of coffee) and donate that money toward Johanna Faith’s journey home instead, we can raise the 8k we need. Thank you so much for be willing to help our daughter come home!

C.J. has gathered some fun donated prizes for a grand prize giveaway on her blog (http://cjredwine.blogspot.com). Those items include: The boxed set of Harry Potter books, signed books from various authors, ARCs, baskets of homemade soap, jewelry, the Twilight Saga, etc. Every person who makes a donation will receive an entry into the grand prize giveaway on her blog.

I can’t think of a single writing friend immune to this phenomenon.

When it happens, it IS great. But what comes next? This is the one question I never thought to ask.

After I received The Call on April 21, I expected to be bombarded by emails and phone calls from my agent and editor for the next week or two. My reality–The Silence. For three, long months.

Time plays tricks with a writer’s mind. Here are some of the crazy, mind-tormenting thoughts that invaded my writer’s mind when surrounded by The Silence:

• Was it all a big, nasty dream?
• Are my agent and editor stalled over some irreconcilable difference in the contract?
• Did my publisher send the contract to my agent?
• Is my agent still reviewing the contract?
• Should I touch base to see how things are going, or should I wait for them to update me?

See the full post at Women’s Fiction Romance Writers of America

And the ginormous water fountain sitting in the middle of the lobby.

The fountain, sporting four vertical dolphins–or dolphinfish (aka mahi-mahi), as clarified by our limo driver Ricky–provided the only source of sound in the lobby. It was a strange, eerie silence. Almost as if the hotel had evacuated all their guests–except us.

Fast-forward to Wednesday afternoon and the quiet lobby now bustles with activity. The moment I emerged from the elevator, I heard an incredible hum of female voices in the distance.

Welcome to the 30th annual Romance Writers of America conference! I took a deep breath, knowing it might be the last time I had the opportunity.

As I maneuvered through the crowd of beige Sourcebooks tote bags, I could feel the crowd’s energy, feel my own building excitement upon seeing familiar, dear faces of friends and beloved authors.

An immediate sense of community, of belonging blanketed me and I knew this was where I belonged. Even now, two weeks later, the feeling remains.

Okay, enough of the warm and fuzzy stuff. What did I learn?

• I learned Romance University is widely admired. Every time I sat down for a meal or attended a workshop, someone made a point to tell me how much they appreciated the content RU offers. I had many “proud mama” moments because of this.
• I learned that networking both on-line and in-person is both vital to an author’s career and absolutely necessary for one’s personal growth.

See the full post at Romance University

I’ll share tidbits about the conference over the next few days–who I saw, what I learned, what I ate, etc. Exciting stuff!

One bit of exciting news that I can share now is that I received four copies of my publishing contract today. Reading through several pages of legal mumbo-jumbo added another layer of reality.

It’s gonna happen.

I’m going to be a published author. Whoot!

Built in 1888 by brewer Conrad Seipp, the mansion is a wonderful artifact of Victorian living. This 20-room “cottage” served as a getaway to the Seipp family during the hot Chicago summers. Yes, Chicago is HOT during the summer. And humid.

Descendants from the Seipp family lived in the mansion until 3-4 years ago when they donated it to the state of Wisconsin as a museum. Visitors can only reach the mansion via boat, then you must climb 110 stairs to reach your final destination. But the burning thighs are well worth it. The docents did a wonderful job. I found it amazing how little the house had changed in 122 years.

My only regret was that we couldn’t take pictures inside. You can find a few here.

I loved the Bachelor’s staircase. You can see the docent pointing to it in this picture. Evidently, the “boys” came home at all sorts of hours and in all sorts of conditions.

Bachelor's Staircase

Beautiful Wrap Around Porch

To some, setting writing goals is like making New Year’s resolutions. We’re energized by the “promise” of what life would be like if we actually attained the goal or resolution. Images of publishing contracts, agent agreements, or ginormous word counts flash before our eyes and we think anything is possible as long as we meet our established goal.

And then life happens. As with our New Year’s resolutions, our writing goals become more and more distant, less and less important when we have sick parents, active kids, a neglected husband, and a myriad of other issues pulling at our time.

One of the best things I did for my writing career was to join an on-line goals setting group. Until I joined Amy Atwell’s GIAMx4 loop, days would go by without a single word added to my manuscript. In GIAM, we post our upcoming week’s writing goals and our previous week’s accomplishments on a Yahoo loop each Monday. Posting the information makes us accountable. It adds a new layer of pressure to do what we promised ourselves we would do.

See the full post at Magical Musings.

Any bit of publishing news or research I hear, find, or get knock upside the headwith will be shared on Bollocks. I do love writing that word.

As my website indicates, my writing leans toward dark and gritty. Along the way, I interject a bit of humor to lighten things up–for a little while. Well, that’s how my blog will be serious with a dash a fun.

Again, welcome! I hope you stop by often. I’m sure I’ll have many tidbits to share while working through my first year as a contracted writer.

So hang on tight and repeat after me, “Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks!”