Dear Readers,

 

Briston produces music under the direction of Mr. Ray Price, Area Manager, of "NOTESFORNOTES®."

 

Link to "NOTESFORNOTES®"

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Briston music creations can be found at SoundCloud in the "NOTESFORNOTES®" folder.

 

 

 

Briston's (B1g B) music is available on iTune, Apple Music and other music outlets

 

 

 

 

To Purchase, Listen, or View Briston's Music on Apple Music and iTunes click Below

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Future Briston Original Music     To Play Future click here Click.	April 2024 Briston Original Music     To Play Forward click here Click.	January 2024 Briston Original Music     To Play Jump click here Click.
October 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Twinking Stars click here Click.	September 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Forward click here Click.	September 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Sailing Away click here Click.
August 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Flying High click here Click.	June 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Whirling Windmills click here Click.	April 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Waves click here Click.
March 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Parintins click here Click.	Febuary 2023 Briston Original Music     To Play Flags click here Click.	December 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Graduation click here Click.
October 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play click here Click.	October 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play click here Click.	August 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Beach Jam click here Click.
July 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Moving click here Click.	May 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Backyard Party click here Click.	March 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Personal Space click here Click.
February 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Far Away - click here Click.	January 2022 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Running Out Of Time click here Click.	November/December 2021 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - The Beat Down click here Click.
November/December 2021 To Play clip of Briston's Drum Rock with "Race Cars" from "CSR Racing(TM) app" click image above		November/December 2021 To Play clip of Briston's Kaleidoscope Kiss with "Mario" from "Super Mario Run(TM) app" click image above
September/October 2021 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Drum Rock click here Click.	July/August 2021 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Crazy Circle Of Fifths click here Click.	May/June 2021 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Kaleidoscopes Kiss click here Click.
March/April 2021 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - Danza del Amor click here Click.	January/February 2021 Briston Original Music     To Play Briston B. - John Coltrane & Miles Davis - Kind Of Blue (Remix) click here Click.	November/December 2020 Briston Original Music     To Play Cruisin' Backwards click here Click.
September/October Briston Original Music     To Play Mas Paz click here Click.	August 2020 Briston Original Music     To Play LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW AT A BEAT click here Click.	July 2020 Briston Original Music     To Play SLOW FLOW click here Click.
June 2020 Briston Original Music     To Play SUMMER SOUL click here Click.	January - May 2020 Briston Original Music     To Play STEP TO HAPPY click here Click.	November/December 2019 Briston Original Music     To Play JINGLE BELLS INSTRUMENTAL click here Click.

 

August/September 2019

LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES

LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES I loved the part in the 'Forrest Gump' movie where Gump says, "'My momma always said'", "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." I certainly found that comparison to be true when shortly after our entrance into the empty nest stage of our marriage, my husband and I discovered that our box of chocolates still held a surprise. Our grandson arrived in our lives like a shooting star, only with life-threatening injuries. We raised him through a critical period during his first three years of life and were on continual high alert for his physical and mental well-being. We surrounded him like a prayer circle twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The endless hours I spent in therapy sitting rooms became my cathedral. The "pews" in the waiting rooms were often filled with other parents, grandmothers and sometimes grandfathers. We caretakers shared our sadness, our hopes and dreams, and our determination to see that our children got what they needed. We worried about diminishing healthcare and services for the most innocent of the innocent. Week after week and year after year, we shared our struggles caring for fragile children fighting fiercely for the next breath or next word or next step. My husband and I are no longer my grandson's primary caretakers. He has a wonderful, loving mother who sees to his every need although we are still very much involved in his day-to-day life. Today we are reaping the joys and rewards of having him in our life. After those hard fought and fraught early years, filled with fear and worry, today taste so much sweeter. Fourteen years into this miraculous journey, I feel like I have endured a lifetime of first(s). My husband and I raised three typical children. However, nothing from those years had prepared us for the challenges of being grandparents and caregivers of a special needs child. Despite the uncertainty, upheaval, and suffering of those early years, our family circle and dynamics would be forever changed for the better. I would become a more patient, more loving, more forgiving, and—more fierce person. More importantly, we all would learn how love expands the definition of family like nothing else. My grandson will be going to high school in the fall. His progress has been miraculous. He teaches us wonderful things every day. We have begun to envision a great future for him in whatever form that may take. It is the culmination of a steep learning curve. I had to learn to communicate with the medical and educational community on a level that I had never done before. This much I know is true: It does take a village. It takes a dedicated team of medical professionals; it takes a dedicated, supportive family; it takes a dedicated educational system and school staff that believe my one special needs grandson deserves a chance to learn to the best of his ability just like my other five neurotypical grandchildren. Life is indeed like a box of chocolates. There is always a surprise waiting for you. Cynthia Bowen Campus Representative Council Member Author, The Resurrection of Baby B

 

June/July

Court vs. State Cuts

The Texas Supreme Court recently put a temporary stop to state lawmakers attempt to cut $350 million from Medicaid programs that provide physical, speech, and occupational therapy to disabled children. That's the official word. However, I believe the state is finding a more underhanded, hidden way to deny children services. How? By rejecting requests for therapy and forcing parents to appeal over and over again for those services.

 

The appeal can take months and months. It is a lengthy and tedious process. In the meantime, disabled children fall behind on advances they could be making in all areas of their development. When my daughter lovingly and joyfully accepted a medically fragile child through a therapeutic adoption, the state entered into a contract with her that that child would get the services he needed via Medicaid so that eventually he could become as productive and independent adult as possible.

 

Texas is not keeping its promise to my daughter or to other families. Time and time again I am hearing from parents of disabled children who are being rejected for speech and other services they have received in the past. Why is it that the very people who declare love for children and babies are blocking the chances for them to have a quality life? I don't believe the uptick in delays and rejections is a coincidence. My family will always keep our promise to love and cherish my grandson. It's too bad state lawmakers aren't keeping their promise to him.  

 

April/May

A is for Autism

Near the end of my book, PROUD FLESH, I wrote that just before my daughter, Nicole, adopted Baby B at age three, he was diagnosed with Autism. I still remember the day Nicole, her sister Kanika, and I sat in the neurologist's office and heard the doctor say the "A" word. Stunned silence. Sure he had delayed speech and development, but after having suffered life-threatening third-degree scalding burns at nine months over 65% of his body and countless surgeries, why wouldn't he be delayed? That is what I said to Kanika when she suggested that we take him for evaluation. Kanika who was a resident doctor at the time said, "It can't hurt. It will just be to rule out things and get your questions answered."

 

And so the three of us were together when we heard the words, "Yes, he definitely has autism." Stunned, surprised, relieved. Those words describe our emotions at the time. Relieved? You ask. How could you be relieved by a diagnosis of autism? Perhaps you forget that we had just been through almost three years of hell, helping Baby B to recover from catastrophic injuries. Countless surgeries and rehabilitations still awaited him. Our primary concern was for his physical recovery. Except for his verbal delay and occasional meltdowns, he was affectionate and highly intelligent. He did not exhibit what had been broadcast as "typical" autism behavior. It is totally true that, "If you have met one person with autism, you have only met one person with autism." However, within the autism spectrum two things are consistently present: the absence of social and communication cues.

 

Of course, I see this on a daily basis with my own grandson, but to see it manifested in the public arena is always interesting. The other day, in between appointments, I stopped by a coffee shop for a caffeine fix. I sat in a small alcove, two chairs on each side facing each other. For whatever reason, the man sitting across from me had pulled the empty chair on his side flesh against his (He was not with anyone else.) A few minutes later, a teenage boy flopped down in that empty chair, pulled out his phone, and made himself quite comfortable. I immediately recognized him as a child I knew to have autism. The man gave the teenager several sideways glances, looking quite uncomfortable.

"Mom," the teenager called. "I'm over here."

His mother hurried over and said, "Get up son. I'm sure this man doesn't want you sitting this close to him and you'd be much more comfortable with the chair over here so you have more room."

 

This all could have gone very badly, very quickly if the man had reacted in a negative or abusive way when the teenager sat so closely to him or if the teenager's mother had not been present. It is every parent's fear for their child on the autism spectrum, that their small or adult child will be misunderstood and punished or harmed because their actions were misinterpreted. One out of sixty-eight children are being diagnosed with autism. Adults with autism of all ages are spread throughout the community. Please think before overreacting. After all, we neurotypicals are supposed to be the ones in control of our emotions.

 

Leap of Faith  

January 2016

I didn't hear or read much about people making New Year's resolutions in January. Of course, there was the usual prattle from morning shows and magazines about losing weight, exercising more, or finding a dating partner but among my circle of friends and acquaintances and among the public at large, there seemed to be a general lack of interest and enthusiasm for making grandiose statements about what to accomplish in the coming year.

 

New Year's resolutions require a specific starting date with an intensity geared toward concrete results in a specified time. The angst about getting results often leads to anxiety and little or no enjoyment regarding the process on the road to reaching your goal. However, aspiration, a cherished desire or will to succeed, comes in many forms, slipping in when we least expect it. It doesn't require a date or a declaration, and the journey to success can be accomplished with stepping-stones rather than having to climb boulders. In addition, aspirations can co-exist along side all the other complexities of life. You learn that it really is about the journey on the way to your destination.  

 

How do I know? I know because I am a writer and to be a writer is to aspire to transfer the thoughts and ideas in your head into words and then to your readers. It has been said that writing is like driving a car at night with only the headlight beams to illuminate a long, dark road. You write only as far as you can see the light, word-by-word, sentence-by-sentence, page-by-page until you reach the end of the story.

 

On a New Year's Day a decade ago, I made a resolution to tell an amazing story. Year after year, I wrote. The resolution became an aspiration. In a few months, my aspiration will become a reality with the publication of my book: Proud Flesh: The Resurrection of Baby B. It will be available in bookstores and by electronic publication. I will let you know as soon as it hits the market!

November/December 2015

Thanksgiving arrived and departed and the next day our neighborhood was sparkling with Christmas lights (including the garish lasers). Dime store wreaths, snow globes, and tree ornaments spilled out into the supermarket aisles, blocking my way to the eggs and milk. I skipped around the debris through the obstacle course of shopping carts and elves stocking shelves.

 

Like everyone I speak with, I'm not ready for Christmas. I've barely cleared the fridge of dressing and gravy. Now I have to start making room for ham and deviled eggs. Everyone laments that the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas seem shorter and shorter. I think it's because Black Friday has advanced as a precursor to a white Christmas. Add to that, the coupling of politics and tragedies seeping into the season and dripping into our psyches where it all seems to swirl into a hodgepodge of positives and negatives. Speaking of negatives, a new word, microagression, surfaced in 2015. It is meant to describe the intentional or unintentional negative actions targeted at persons based on assumptions about them because they belong to a certain group relating to age, gender, disability, religion, race, etc. Just because you resist group membership, doesn't mean you won't be targeted.

 

The word, microgenerosity, is not as in vogue, but it describes what I see much more: the little acts of kindness targeted at anyone anywhere. This being the season of thanksgiving and gift giving, I want to acknowledge the microgenerosity I observe and experience everyday, especially at the supermarket where tall people retrieve items from high shelves for short people; where more than once, I've left a wallet full of credit cards and money on the counter or in a shopping basket and a good Samaritan turned it in untouched; where my grandson who has autism had a meltdown in the parking lot and two wonderful women stopped to help get him to his feet and inside the store; where despite the congestion of shopping carts and cars, restraint and courtesy remain constant.

 

Having a special needs grandchild has been the truest testament to the greatness of microgenerosity. I have witnessed such acts of devotion, kindness, and unselfishness from caretakers, family, friends, teachers, nurses, doctors, and volunteers that I have been moved to tears. Most inspiring is the acceptance of my grandson as he interacts with those adults and children in the wider community who take the time to communicate with him and encourage him.

 

What if microgenerosities were to invade and take over microagressions in 2016?

 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

 

October 2015,

For several months, Texas has been inundated with environmental extremes ranging from fire to flood. Not long ago, it was the lack of rain that scorched the landscape and dried up crops and lakeside business. Sandwiched in between the fires and floods, were hurricane warnings up and down the Gulf of Mexico. Like stories from the Old Testament Bible of plagues and the woes of Job, we seem to be experiencing it all.

 

But the truth is, we are not all experiencing it, even though the endless weather and disaster reports with reporters standing waist deep in whatever is piling up may lead us to think we are indeed in impending danger. I've had to assure extended family members in other parts of the country that our house is not about to be swept away by a hurricane, consumed by fire, or submerged in floodwaters. I've even had to remind myself that just because I can smell the smoke in the air or see the standing water in my yard, it does not mean that calamity is climbing through the window.

 

Of course, we should be aware of what is happening around us so that we are prepared for the unexpected. Preparation was essential as I (with a critically ill child no less) among thousands of others, was on the run from Hurricane Rita in 2004. However, even after that danger was long past, and I was residing in a safe, loving environment, I remained ill at ease, anticipating another disaster that might suddenly emerge and send me fleeing into an uncertain future. That is why I can tell you from personal experience that when we are continually on high alert, our imaginations conjuring up the next worst thing, it robs us of life's joys, making us anxious, stagnant, and unable to fully appreciate the grace of the moment.

 

September 2015

This month my family and I celebrate the birthday of a little whirlwind who came into our lives with a force of nature that bowled us over and changed my life completely and forever. I bet it would not take long to think of someone who did the same for you. A sibling? A spouse? A child? However, this little one came into my life at a time when I believed that our circle of family was pretty much cemented. Of course, there would be more marriages and babies born, but I thought those milestones would radiate from the inside of our family outward.

 

In my last post, I mentioned that I had created my blog to keep track of my writing trail. That was only a partial reason. The other was because an agent suggested creating it as a way to promote my book as a road to publishing. The subject of my completed memoir is my grandson, that special person whose life has touched mine in countless ways. In the book, I refer to him as Baby B and in order to maintain his privacy, I will continue to do so.

 

Approximately ten years ago, my younger daughter suggested that I visit a baby at the hospital where she was completing her residency. A month later I became that baby's foster mother. My decision to take on such a responsibility was as unexpected as a shooting star. One day I was mapping out the course for a kayak adventure my husband and I would take as part of our empty nester adventures. The next day I was charting the course for someone else's life. That commitment consumed every aspect of my life until the day my older daughter adopted Baby B three years later. After that, the intensity of daily caretaking lessened, but my commitment and involvement remains, as does my husband's, who has accompanied me every step of the way.

 

This month, Baby B's eleventh birthday is a blessing for which his loving mother, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and many friends give thanks. Early in his life one family fell away. But when Baby B's journey intersected with our family's path, we gathered him up, carrying him into our hearts and lives forever. His birth celebrates the miracle of the family we are born into and the family we open our arms and hearts to create.

 

June/July/August 2015

Asking yourself where has the summer gone? Feel like you're living your life in fast forward? I began this blog to keep a record of my writing endeavors. However, in the process I discovered that it also helps me track of other life's pursuits, challenges, and celebrations.

 

During the summer, I missed writing conferences because of the birth of my grandchild, the first child of my younger daughter and her husband. Although it is my fifth grandchild, it was the first time I was able to be present so soon after the birth (by virtue of a plane ride across the country the next day).

 

I'm always irritated by the soul crushing myth that there are no more "firsts" beyond some pre-conceived age at which point life's joy, passions, pursuits, and surprises supposedly fall away like leaves from a tree. Truth is as the years pile on, so does the sweetest part, like icing on a cake. Some people say that, "Youth is wasted on the young," because the early years seem to be marked by ignorance as to the great gift of juvenility.

 

And yet even as humans are living longer, healthier lives than ever, our society seems to be caught in a time warp that hasn't kept up with that reality. Perhaps we should consider a parallel précis to the young that a long life is wasted on those who do not recognize the great gift of longevity.

 

Of course there will be unexpected health issues and life interruptions, but that can happen at any age. There is no reason to presume that anyone should settle into a sedentary, pedestrian existence when the coming years could be filled with new adventures and opportunities. Some trees are evergreen, remaining nascent until the tree is no more.

 

Even as I returned home from visiting my daughter, I was anticipating more "firsts." I became a member of the Facebook community, something I had resisted for reasons that escape me now. In the future, I'm looking forward to finding  and securing my first agent or publisher for my first book. Then to seeing my book on bookstore shelves for the first time. Evergreen. 

Postscript: I just ran across a statistic that showed our most productive time is when we're over 50!

 

May 2015

I've been thinking a lot about rejection lately. Not from my family or friends. I am blessed to have the loyalty and support of a small cadre of friends and a loving family. However, I get rejected on almost a daily basis from perfect strangers, people whom I've never met. That's because I'm a writer and because I submit the things that I write for publication. Writers who don't submit their work for publication don't have to worry about getting rejected. You  can be a writer and not seek publication. If you write in your personal journal or write stories for a creative group or a select group of friends or your grandchildren, you may not care about publication. If, however, you are writing for a wider audience in order to share, inform, or entertain, then you will need to submit for publication. And you will need to become immune to rejection or at the very least, not take rejection personally. Ideally, you will accept those rejections as proof that you are not giving up, that you believe in yourself and your writing enough to continue writing and submitting.

 

In his book, the award-winning New Yorker cartoonist, Matthew Diffee, tells about a cartoon he submitted to the magazine over and over for four years that was rejected. Later at the urging of his mother, he submitted it one more time and bingo! It was accepted. Diffee goes on to say rejection rates are classically bad. He's supposed to turn in 10 gag ideas at a sketch level and that "on a really good week they they'll buy one. So 90 percent rejection is doing great." Thank you, Mr. Diffee.

 

March/April 2015

You may have noticed that I have combined two months in this post. That's because while the sports world was debating the March madness of basketball brackets (of which I know nothing about) our family was continuing to cope with the complicated graft surgeries my grandson had begun in December. On the days we were not traveling back and forth for clinic appointments and wound therapy, we were juggling schedules and sleeping arrangements so that one of us was constantly by his side not only to make sure the cast and the leg pump was secure, but also so he could feel secure, knowing that day or night, one of us always would always be by his side.  If you are to remain sane, patient, and positive, this kind of caretaking requires the ability to maintain a meditative aura in which hours, days, and weeks pass by like clouds drifting. It requires letting go of any expectations except time healing. "This too shall pass" was my mantra. And it did. B recovered and so did we.

 

February 2015

I know that February is the shortest month in the year, but these weeks have gone by faster than the snow is melting (in those other states). It seems l'm continually struggling to catch up or stay up caught up. If it weren't for my Iphone alerting me to what I might forget, I would. As if I didn't already have enough on my plate, I joined Toastmasters last month. Toastmasters? Isn't that for upwardly mobile corporate business types? Yes, but not entirely. There are many Toastmasters groups in a variety of vicinities. You can visit any one of them to see if the environment and people fit your comfort level. I am definitely not a corporate type, so I was fortunate enough to find a diverse group of creative people that include freelancers, bloggers, and those involved with public relation, and religious organizations. Why did I join Toastmasters? Because I believe that sooner or later my book will be published. And when it is published, I want to be able to promote it to groups and agencies in an organized, convincing manner. Agents and publishers call this having a platform. They want you to have a platform before the ink has dried on the first page of your manuscript. This seems a little backward to me. Shouldn't you have a product before you begin promoting it? But this is the new face of traditional publishing, and the writers' job these days is not to ask, "why?" But to do or die. Unless you're self-publishing, in which case you will still need to be a self-promoter of your book. Toastmasters will allow you to grow at your own pace into a confident, competent speaker. Since you must write your own speeches, it will also help you to have a schedule for writing and to be able to present your speech in an organized, convincing manner. I'm fortunate in that I have completed my memoir, so that I can concentrate on extending the platform that I have already begun as an advocate for special needs children, abused children, and improved foster care. By the way, Texas has declared the week of February 22-28 "Toastmasters International Week."

 

January Resolutions 2015

"What's your New Year's resolution?" How many times have you been asked that question recently? Did you have an answer? I stopped making New Year's resolutions when our special needs grandchild came into our life. Life became far too unpredictable to make a pact with oneself when most of my energies were directed away from myself.  That's not meant to be negative. As an active participant in my ten-year-old grandson's life, I've learned how to fully embrace the good times, and live in the moment. Thank God, as he has gotten older, the good times have far outnumbered the bad. And even when the bad occurs, I find that I'm able to accept, take deep breaths, and let go. That hasn't always been the case. Just before Christmas, B had an operation to release burn contractures. Skin damaged by burn does not stretch and with each growth spurt, he must go into the hospital to have contractures surgically released.  Our family has been coping with these and more serious operations since he was 9-months-old. The first years were the hardest. There's nothing as heart-rendering as watching a child suffer. Those first years of his rehabilitation left me mentally and physically depleted. But as he has gotten stronger, so have I. His determination and delight in life has infiltrated every aspect of mine. Do you know what those in the medical community say as to why they like working with children? Because children don't waste time complaining. They just want to get well and get back to the business of playing. Now that's a philosophy for a resolution!

I can be reached by email. I look forward to hearing from you!

 

December 28, 2014

CHALLENGES. This month has been filled with them. Has anyone noticed how the word challenge has become open-ended code for heartbreak, hardship, disappointment, and disillusionment? My sweet grandson B, the subject of my seeking-a-publisher memoir, "Proud Flesh" had yet another operation--a challenge. My attempt to find a publisher for my completed memoir continues to be a challenge. There have been several nibbles at the "hook" for  the book, but as of yet, no publisher has opened wide and clamped down. However, I am proud to have a piece published of B's adventures in Roadrunners, the Special Olympics newsletter. Go to Round Rock ISD Special Olympics and click on "The Bird Word Newsletters", December 2014 issue, and scroll down to page 9 to read "A Moment With..."

JOYS. They have far outnumbered the challenges.  B's operation ended in success despite a midnight visit to the emergency room. Due to the extraordinary skills and resources of Dell Children's Hospital and my youngest daughter, Kanika, a pediatric surgeon,  who happened to be visiting for the holidays, things ended well. I am surrounded by a loving family (Remember "love" is a verb) who support me in all my endeavors. The joy of finding a publisher in the coming year awaits me. I hope that your joys will far exceed whatever challenges come your way in 2015.

 

November 28, 2014

Last week I went to a monthly meeting of Writers' League of Texas. It was a timely theme about how to write a memoir and still be invited to the Thanksgiving table. It was evident that although their books were published several years ago, the authors remained emotionally sensitive to the events of their memoir and the post publishing feedback from family. One author said to be aware that even though some people may play minor parts in a memoir, in their personal view, they are major characters. Two of the authors let family members read their manuscripts. One believed it was advantageous to helping her cement a viewpoint. The other believed it was detrimental and weakened his original intent when he caved to their remarks and changed or left out things. Memoirs involve real people with real strengths and real flaws. Some don't want their flaws revealed to the public. If you don't want blowback based on truth, it might be better to write fiction. Or as Anne Lamott quips about a book's inhabitants, "Perhaps they should have behaved better." When I decided that I would write an memoir, I read tons of books in that genre. Not only did I learn about the trials and endurances, and bravery of others, I also learned the many approaches to writing memoir. In addition, I discovered Sue William Silverman's book, "Fearless confession-A Writers Guid to Memoir" to be particularly helpful.

 

November 20, 2014

I began sending out email queries the early fall, being very selective, choosing publishers/agents who specifically indicate they accept memoirs. Of course within memoir, stories are wide ranging. Query replies generally take weeks, months, or never. I received one reply from a publisher within an hour! The rejections (from those who have replied) have been generic, indicating my memoir was not compatible for their "list." None of the rejections were negative. Is that remark an oxymoron? The replies encouraged me to keep submitting. I am confident that a "compatible" publisher or agent will want to add me to their list any day now!

 

Finally, in June 2014, I submitted the completed manuscript to a publisher I met at a writing conference in Florida. In August, the publisher emailed that she loved my book and wanted to offer me a contract in a few months after some distribution problems had been resolved. In the meantime, she said it was up to me whether I wanted to seek another publisher and/or agent for my book. I really liked the publisher. I thought she was an honest, decent person and someone with whom I could have a good working relationship, but I did not feel that I could wait an unspecified time without a contract.

 

June 2014

After seven years, I finished my book, "PROUD FLESH: The Resurrection of Baby B. I didn't start out intending to write a book. I simply began jotting down my thoughts as a way to deal with situations that were beyond my control. At the time, my life had taken a completely different direction from how I expected to be spending my empty nest years. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the hurricane that sweep through my life both literally and figuratively. I was too taunt and distraught to verbalize what I felt so I wrote instead. Sometimes just picking up the pen was painful. As if I were cutting myself, my words bleeding onto the page.

 

My shouting in sentences and crying in the wilderness of pencil and paper turned out to be helpful in more ways than one. A year after I returned to Austin from Galveston with Baby B, I received an unexpected call from members of a critique group I once belonged to, asking if I would be interested in joining the re-formed group. I had already been reviewing my papers (They weren't as structued as journals) with thoughts of writing a memoir about the events that had transpired. That call was the impetus that I needed to stop thinking and began writing. Later when that group disbanded, I continued writing.

For seven years afterwards, I wrote on and off. Baby B was still my top priority and required 24-hour care. I was too seeped in painful days and nights with him to write with any regularity. Eventually as B's mental and physical health began to improve, I was able to devote more time to writing about our incredible journey. One year before finishing the memoir, I was invited by a friend to join her critique group. They were a group of experienced, talented writers who helped me get through the last marathon mile of my first full draft. Of course, after that there were many more edits.

 

 

Health, happiness, and hugs,

 

Cynthia