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Dear 12-Year-Old Me

Dear 12-year-old me,

It’s just after Labor Day, and you’re about to start the worst two school years of your life. I don’t say this to discourage you, but to let you know things will get better.

42-year-old Trish with original art from Bob Eggleton.

You’re all excited now, about to start a new school—junior high-turned-middle school due to academic reorgaization—a fresh start. You’ll learn new things, which always excites you. You were accepted into the band playing drums!

You’re nervous because your one, dependable best friend isn’t going to this school with you. At twelve, you’re uncomfortably aware it is due to the fact she lives in a lower-income neighborhood and has some very different life situations and that there’s nothing either of you, at twelve and thirteen, or your families can do about it. You’re worried you’re going to drift away…and you’re not wrong. But you’ll reunite. You’ll keep your promise that she’ll be your maid of honor at your wedding. You’ll drift away again, and reunite again… and your 42-year-old self writing this is making a note to call her.

But this school year’s fresh start isn’t going to work in your favor. While you live in the right neighborhood and you’ve got the brains and ability, you’re not like most of the kids that are here. Most of the kids here have more money than you, and therefore are cooler. Most of the kids here are the ones that picked on you, shunned you (unless you could give them a test or homework answer) in the earlier grades. The other kids you’ll most remember are the ones that got placed in this high-testing school due to measures trying to help people, like your best friend, who are in lower income neighborhoods and have less access to good schools with lots of technology, swimming pools, new books, strong drama and music options, and award-winning teams in sports and academics. You have a general understanding of this at twelve, and you are glad more people are getting better educational choices, but you don’t understand the social implications of this yet.

Dear 12-year-old me, you get your first lesson in racial bigotry during these years.

You seek friendship from these new kids who are different from the ones you know and know you can’t trust, and while you’ve gotten on your report cards comments like “can’t read people” and “lacks good social skills,” you don’t really know what to do about that, so you set yourself up for a world of hurt and rejection because these kids don’t know you’re not like the other jerks who look like you, have a similar skin tone, and who look at them like they don’t belong there. They wonder, like how you often wonder, if your attempts of friendship aren’t some trick that will hurt them worse later. Unlike you—and this you don’t know yet—the consequences of them falling for tricks like that can be even worse than you’re broken heart and shattered feelings.

Hearing this isn’t going to lessen the sting of that girl shouting at you to stop following her group, threatening to kick your ass if you come near any of them.

You have nowhere to sit during lunch. You spend two years of lunches hiding in the band room. At least you end up the lead drummer from all the extra practice time.

Sometimes you’ll have temporary friends. One, we’ll call her Ja—, is a girl who has a mixed-race couple for parents. When she’s “black” enough, she can fit in with that table you can’t go near or you’ll get your ass kicked. It’s like being “cool” enough, to your comprehension—but much more complicated. She confides these things to you during one of your shared music-room exile lunches; you’ll remember it thirty years later. If she talks too long about the things she has in common with you, like reading fantasy books and comics or watching certain movies or imagining faraway lands, she is banished back to the music room with you. Sometimes you take turns singing your favorite pop songs into the microphone on the empty practice stage. When you break your ankle, she helps you carry your stuff for two weeks. You won’t remember seeing her again after these two school years.

Outside of those spare moments, everything else is mental and emotional torture. Even the places you once found joy and sanctuary, the classrooms and classwork, will betray you. You can never seem to score as high as the students who can afford better clothes, and many of the teachers like their answers better than your creative ones. You get a terrible pre-algebra teacher who will ruin most of your future math experience by convincing you that you’re terrible at math. (You’re not.) You’ll get your sacred reading books confiscated—and you’ll commit your first act of theft by stealing one back from the teacher as you leave class. The only good thing you’ll recall is reading The Left Hand of Darkness for the first time and having a crush on Estraven. You’ll wish you could remember the name of that English teacher decades later.

Dear 12-year-old me, you’ll try. You’ll save up pet-sitting and paper delivery money and ask for just one present for Christmas, because it’s expensive: A Starter Jacket. You have no idea what that is, really, except not having one was part of someone’s insult to you and one thing you figured you had the ability to change. You know nothing about college sports, and you feel like a fool trying to figure out where to buy one and how to pick one when the store clerk asks what team you support. You settle on Georgetown because it’s got a dog on it, and it’s a navy blue color that you like.

Wearing that coat is not the miracle you hope; you’ll quickly learn that you need to know the right lines and words and answers someone who wears a Starter jacket would say. And you have no idea what those magic lines, words, gestures, etc. are. Not at all. No Starter jacket, no United Colors of Benetton, and no Gap clothing (when it fits you) makes a difference. No matter how hard you work and save to look the way you’re expected to look, you will never look right. You’ll never, ever fit in with these people. You’re weird, you’re “too” smart, and your fat, and those facts give them the social allowance to ridicule, hurt, and erode your self-esteem in ways you’ll feel for decades.

Dear 12-year-old me, I’m sorry you go through this.

Things change, though, and as shitty as it sounds to you at twelve and thirteen, this suffering becomes a reminder to be kind, to be loyal to those you love, to be the smile or say the compliment that might be the one thing that gets another suffering person through their day. You decide you never want to be the cause of the levels of pain you felt; you decide no one deserves to be abused like that, and that everyone deserves a chance to escape that kind of abuse and bullying. You decide that you want to be the person that will make the kind, forgiving, and welcoming choice—even if it means you’ll get hurt again. Because what if your choice did make a difference for someone suffering, for someone who is acting out because they are in pain, for someone whose brain works differently and doesn’t realize they’re causing pain?

You get hurt. A lot. But it becomes your choice, your agency to be in that position.

It still fucking hurts. A lot. And you question why you are the way you are, and you have moments of cruelty when you’ve been hurt too much or when you’ve given too much and there’s nothing left…when there’s less than nothing left…to feed your soul. You’ll have moments of missing something—a social cue, a subtle request for help—that will hurt someone because your brain was focusing on something else. You’ll fail at helping others because you’re overwhelmed. You’re still human. (Despite the daydreams of possibly being fey or magical…after all, we were adopted and enough of our favorite books opened us up to that possibility!) You still keep trying, keep deciding to try to be the person you want to be.

You’ll find other people, people you admire and respect, who have made similar decisions based on similar circumstances. In fact, some of the kindest people you will meet will share that they had even worse experiences in bullying, in abuse, in trauma. And yet, they choose to be loving people, open to getting hurt again for the sake of not hurting another.

This becomes such a pattern that when you think of having kids you fear who they might become if they don’t experience the pain you’ve gone through. You question if compassion must stem from the experience of pain—and yet, you don’t want anyone to have to experience those levels of mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual pain, much less potential kids you’ll love.

Dear 12-year-old me, what you go through these two years works its way into your writing. Because we do write. And we do get published. That was the #1 Dream after all, and we stuck to it.

I am going to be a writer! I am going to have a job where I write!

How many times did we say that growing up? More than my 42-year-old mind can remember. And people called us stubborn like it was a bad thing.

I stubbornly held onto that writing dream. For so many years.

Dear 12-year-old me, yes, the next two years are going to be horrible—and while you’ll think of them as the most horrible, there will be other significantly horrible and shitty years. But you’ll be better prepared for them. You’ll have an even better support group. (And you’ll realize you were lucky you did have supportive family—many of your other friends who were bullied and abused did not, or their family was their abusers.)

Dear 12-year old me, things are going to get better. So much better.

The underfunding of the Springfield schools will mean that your high school will be so overcrowded that the population of geeks—people like you—will find each other and befriend each other. You’ll discover Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering, DragonLance, Forgotten Realms, Tarot cards, pendulums, scary movies, and slumber parties. You’ll be an editor at the school paper and get whatever hall passes you need to avoid situations where you were separated from your friends. You and your friends will all volunteer to help in the library, making it even more of a safe space for outcasts for years. You will have friends that you will still regularly speak with in thirty years—their children will call you Auntie Trish! Because most of the group you’ll befriend is also neuroatypical, you’ll help each other figure out social expectations that mystify you.

You will re-learn enough confidence to dump the guy who wouldn’t support your dreams and go away to college.

You’ll make you “fresh start” in college so much better. You’ll wear a quirky hat that will get the man you’re going to marry to notice you. And you’ll let people you just met drag you to a party for a movie you’ve never heard of—The Rocky Horror Picture Show—hosted by that future husband. You’ll make the connection of sanctuary for geeks and outcasts, and you’ll gird your courage to ask if anyone plays D&D.

You will realize you’ve found your people within that first week of classes. You will be friends with them for decades, and their children will also call you Auntie Trish!

That cute guy who hosted that party is going to ask you to marry him that following April, and you’ll say “Yes,” and by the end of this very month, 42-year-old me and him will be celebrating twenty years of marriage.

But that’s not all.

Dear 12-year-old me, you’ll travel the world—and some of that will be tax deductible because of your writing career! You’ll have published three books written for kids like you, now, to remind them that they still have some power in a world where everything feels wrong. You’ll have won prizes for poetry and short fiction! You’ll help over a hundred other writers achieve their dreams by editing their novels. You’ll have a wait list of months for people who want you to edit their novels!

Dear 12-year-old me, it gets even better.

You know those unicorn and dragon pin-ups you pulled out of magazines to put on your walls? You’re going to meet those artists. You’ll buy prints from them that they will sign, to you. You’ll buy prints for your beloved husband from them. You’ll buy original freaking art that you saw them offer because you know them well enough, you’re friends with enough of their friends, to get these kinds of messages! And you’ll buy these things with money you earned from your writing and editing.

You know those DragonLance and Forgotten Realms books you own an entire bookcase full of? You’ll meet so many those authors, and they will sign things to you, in person. You’re going to invite one of them to write an intro in an anthology you edited. And she will say yes!

(Also, you edit freaking anthologies! Your name is on the cover as an editor who put it together!)

Oh, and you remember all those kids’ books you saved? You’re going to invite a prominent author from those into that very same anthology. And she will say yes!

You’re going to be on panels talking about writing with those authors you’re reading right now who will help you get through the most awful years. You’ll be on panels with the editors of those authors. They will treat you like a peer. They will say you make good points and have good ideas.

That shelf and a half full of R.L. Stine books you adore? You’re going to be in an anthology with him!  And that anthology: it’s a tribute to all those Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark collections you checked out over and over from the library. You—you—made it into that. With a story inspired by working with horses.

Oh yeah, you also will have a horse. Yep. Your own horse. That will happen. You’ll work rescuing horses for ten years before you adopted her. Her name is Calico Silver, and she stays at a stable full of amazing people who get you and who you get. Your barn family is as special as your writing family.

So you see, 12-year-old me, you’re heart’s going to get broken a lot; you’re going to be made to feel like less than trash, not even human; you’ll question your worth and you’ll cry thousands of tears, so many your eyes run angry red dry. But you’re stronger than you think. You’re stronger than all of those who hurt you, than those teachers and staff who let them hurt you, can even imagine. That weirdness, that curiosity, that stubbornness, that day-dreamy-ness, that empathy and kindness you develop—those are all strengths. And they will lead you to be the person you truly want to be, a person you’re proud to be.

The thing is, 12-year-old me, you’re going to forget what I’ve just told you. You’re going to forget it a lot. While school and life get better, there are still going to be bullies, there are still going to be people who don’t see your value or worth, and every time you encounter people like that, advertisements that insult you, stories where people like you are the punchline…all that pain is going to come tumbling back–exponentially. All that insecurity. All that self-doubt. Whenever you have a moment where you feel you screwed up—even if you didn’t really, but just think you did—all these experiences are going to hit you hard, just about knock you down, and you’ll feel just like you’re hiding, alone, in the music room all over again. A piece of trash fallen out of someone’s backpack: Forgotten and useless at best; stomped on for amusement at worse. Thirty years later, as much as I’ve told you how much better our life gets—and I haven’t even listed everything—if I’m being honest, I have to tell you that it still hurts. It still affects us.

I don’t know if it will ever go away; our friends who are older still admit to suffering similarly.

But we have better tools to deal with it. We have more friends, real friends. We have a husband and his family on top of our own. We can write a letter to our thirty-years-younger selves to acknowledge that pain, honor it, and remind our 42-year-old selves what we’ve accomplished, why we are valuable and worthy, why we should be proud of who we are.

Dear 12-year-old me, you are loved, you are strong, and you are valuable. In what you will do and in who you are inside of me now, you matter. We will keep growing, keep choosing kindness and empathy in the face of abuse, and we will work toward a world where maybe more people can learn to be compassionate without having to experience the pain to understand why.

Your author pic with your horse, Calico Silver!

Happy 2015 – Part 1 – Looking Back

Best RidePerhaps I’m a wee bit late on this, but it is the first WORKWEEK of 2015, and honestly, one of my resolutions is to make sure I get enough rest.

After all, a lack of rest and overdoing it was my biggest fall in 2014. We learn from our mistakes.

So, here’s a quick review of 2014 with my plans for 2015.





Those are three biggies. There are more!

“Steadfast in the Face of Zombies” finally came out in Once Upon an Apocalypse

“Oprah Funds the End of The World” was sold and came out in Demonic Visions 5

Speaking, paneling, signing, tabling at:




Book Expo America / Bookcon



Rock & Shock

Bookstore, Library & other appearances:

Enigma Books, Astoria, NY

Books & Boos, CT

Generations Gifts and Herbal Apothecary, Oxford, MA

Nashua Public Library, NH

Annie’s Book Stop of Worcester, MA

Booklover’s Gourmet, Webster, MA

Bigelow Free Public Library, Clinton, MA

Jacob Edwards Library, Southbridge, MA

Sturbridge Coffee Roasters / Girl Power!, Southbridge, MA

I also edited a whole bunch of books in 2014—mine and other people’s.

And Calico and I had a good year together, with a good amount of riding, especially this summer. (See the blog pic!)

I also celebrated a lot of wonderful weddings for family and friends—and I was honored to be the matron of honor for two very good friends at their beautiful ceremony!

There was also a lot of difficulty in 2014, though.

I’d thought my 2013 autumn had been difficult with death and illness. This 2014, it ended up being even worse. I won’t list all those who I lost or who I was worrying over, but there were a lot. I fell behind on a lot of deadlines for myself and for other people, and I had to drop some of my projects. And then I got sick, myself, pretty badly. I ended up with a serious kidney infection on top of some larger issues that came to a head right at the same time. I’ve still got a bit of a journey to go through with tests and such, and there are some life decisions I need to make, but I have information—and that is the best tool and best weapon anyone can ask for!

There were other big changes and upheavals during the year, too, but I’d rather not focus on those for this post. Some things over which I have no power.

I only have power over my own choices, my own decisions.

So, what I need to work on after looking back on 2014:

I need to take care of my own writing career. I need to do the promo, I need to blog, and most of all, I need to do my own writing and editing.

I need to make and meet some hard deadlines in January for leftover 2014 work. I know what these are; I need to just do them.

After January, I need to make a better schedule for the year.

I will do these things.

I shall do these things.

I’m starting fresh again, my New Year’s blog. I have a fire ceremony to do tomorrow as the moon STARTS to wane; there are a lot of things I need to be rid of.

Tonight, I simply light a candle, post a blog, and get to sleep at a reasonable hour.

Bits & Ends: Cover Reveal Winners Coming Soon, A Cruise, Where Do I need to Be, and How Behind Am I?

thekelpie_front_onlyThis week brings a blog of various and sundry items. Sit tight for this trail ride!


First and foremost, thank you to everyone who took part in my Cover Reveal Scavenger Hunt!

Thank you, Kate, Renee, Aimee, Val, Justine, Suzanne, Darby, and Laura for sharing your blogs with my characters!

Thank you, Kate and Kendra who made this happen!

Thank you, Vic, my awesome cover artist!

Thank you, Del, for making my website reflect The Kelpie perfectly!

And thank ALL OF YOU who spread the word and took part in the hunt!

Now, the hard part: the balance of believing December isn’t that far away for the release…and knowing how much work I have to do in this year that’s moving too fast, anyway!


If you had fun with our Cover Reveal Scavenger Hunt, you’ve really got to check out this latest promotion from Spencer Hill Press for another of my fabulous authors, Kimberly Ann Miller, for her debut novel: Triangles.




Seriously!  Here are the details:


And because you ought to know what this awesome book is about, here’s the back copy:


A cruise ship. A beautiful island. Two sexy guys. What could possibly go wrong?

In the Bermuda Triangle—a lot.

Hoping to leave behind the reminders of her crappy life–her father’s death years ago, her mother’s medical problems, and the loser who’s practically stalking her–seventeen-year-old Autumn Taylor hops on a ship with her sister for a little distraction. When she wakes up in the Bermuda Triangle, she fears she’s gone nuts for more than one reason: that loser’s suddenly claiming they’re a happy couple… a hot guy is wrapping his arms around her and saying “Happy Anniversary”… and suddenly, she’s full of bruises, losing her hair, and getting IV medication. Autumn visits the ship’s doctor, hoping for a pill or a shot to make the craziness go away. Instead, she’s warned that these “alternate realities” could become permanent.

She just has to ask herself one question—how the hell is she going to get out of this mess?


Travel. I haz some lined up, y’all!

This Saturday, April 13, I’m helping Annie’s Book Stop of Worcester host a Dark Carnival of Authors. Join Annie’s Book Stop of Worcester for a day-long event of horror and dark fantasy authors sharing from their own work and honoring award-winning horror author Rick Hautala, who passed away this March. Stop in to hear some amazing, chilling writing, chat with authors, and remember the kind and talented Rick

Confirmed authors include: Eric Dimbleby, Morven Westfield, Frank Raymond Michaels

K.A. Laity, Errick Nunnally, Inanna Arthen, Kristi Petersen Schoonover, TJ May, Rose Mambert, and Jessie Olson.

Next Thursday, April 18th, I’ll be reading poetry at the Wordfest celebration at Stained Glass Creations and Beyond down in Stafford Springs, CT.

And then, the very next day…

Friday, April 19th, I’m reading specifically horror poetry back at Annie’s Book Stop of Worcester!

The following Saturday and Sunday include me prepping and riding with Calico for our Second Official Horse Show Evars!! Yaaaaayyy!! *cue Kermit hopping and hand waving* Let’s hope I don’t fall onto another mounting block and crack a few more ribs, right?

After that, I’ve got guests and a Big Arse OMGWTFBBQ Birthday Bash to throw, which includes some of my top tier horrors: housecleaning. Yeah.

And then there is my May Madness, which includes one long trip to Myrtle Beach for Scott’s Veteran’s Golf Tournament, Baltimore for Balticon, and NYC for Book Expo America.

(Then, should all go well, I will arrive home and promptly collapse and call in half-dead for a full week to recover.)


And what else might I be doing? Because I am doing more stuff, yes indeedy!  And that stuff is:


Finish First Round Edits for three of my SHP editors who I adore and love.

Get the last bits of Doorways to Extra Time done and sent to Anthony so we can submit it to a copyeditor.

Get Volunteer stuff squared away for Broad Universe.

Do a galley’s Edit on another beloved author’s novel.

Finish The Earl’s Childe draft.

Edit another of my novels per editorial comments.


…And I’m sure there’s more, but those are the “looming closest” items.

What am I waiting for, you ask?  Um…well, I’m writing this blog thing. And. Erp… Bye!

Back in the Saddle… yet again

02102013 - Horse Show pic 2A long time ago (like, the beginning of January), in a galaxy far, far away (my kitchen table as opposed to my desk), I put together a handwritten business plan and a list of goals for 2013.

One of those goals was to write up those goals and post them as a blog on a particular date in January…

Ha! Hahaha! LOL!  I just kill me!

Another of those goals?  A weekly blog schedule!

Hahahahahahah!! ROTFLMAO!!  Totally dying of laughter, here!

But, as I’ve said in prior blog posts… (and couldn’t find to link after 15 minutes, so I gave up… but believe me, they’re there!) … one of the most important life lessons I’ve learned from riding is that you do, in fact, get do-overs.  So long as you don’t give up and get back in that saddle!

And I say this having suffered cracked ribs, disjointed vertebrae, bites, sprained and strained ankles and knees… months or weeks or, pre-Calico, even years of doing next to nothing with horses.

Back into the blogging saddle I go, then.  Because I do love blogging… and I have an awful lot of amazing things to share this year!

Now that I’m here, let me hit that other goal of writing up some of my goals here. I know some people say writing and sharing one’s goals is more detrimental than helpful, but honestly, I’ve not seen such in my life.

Goals:  Better late than never, right?


Meet all Spencer Hill Press Deadlines

I’m truly in love with my work in both writing and editing for SHP, and I have a lot of people’s dreams of publication and their stories riding on my ability to hold up my end of the contract.  Thus far, I’ve been pretty good.  There are a few things running later than the most preferred deadline, but none that are running far into the extra-security padding that Kate, in her infinite wisdom, has built into the system.

Done in January: 1 novel proofed from galleys, 1 to galleys, 1 to closing edits, 1 through copyedits, my own to 2nd round edits, 2 submission novels read, 3 I gave the ok to offer on (one I read back in December). Also, first round of edits on half the Doorways submissions, and second round of edits on half the remaining half.

Dude… that’s 8 different novels and 15 short pieces that I worked on! Yay!


Novel Goals

The Kelpie comes out this December, and I’m going through edits for this, plus working on the marketing plan.

A Silent Starsong is with Vikki to be submitted to Spencer Hill Press upon her edits.

The Earl’s Childe is the sequel to The Kelpie is one of the novels I’m currently working on and needs to be finished, polished and submitted this year.

A Shooting Star is the sequel to A Silent Starsong and is actually entirely drafted! It just needs polishing.

The Banshee’s Cry will be the third MacArthur book, and needs to get started.

Besides that, there are two other novel-length projects that I’m attending to but are not ready for discussion yet. 😉 Stay tuned!


Other Fiction/Poetry Goals

Write three new short stories.

Submit to at least 5 different short fiction or poetry markets this year.

Write one new novella (done! And by accident, too!)

Write three new poems (one down, two to go!)


Business Goals

Make Goodreads profile and list fiction

Update Amazon profile

Update blog every week

Update website every week

Send website revamp changes ASAP


Horsey Goals

Two major trail rides

Three horse shows

Ride 2x per week on average (very difficult this winter!)

Other Goals

Lose 25 lbs

And that’s what I’ll be up to this year. 🙂  It’s a lot, but more doable than other plans I’ve made for myself.

I look forward to sharing the journey with you!

Happy 2013!

12162012 Christmas, Dalek, Show 036New year, new goals, positive accomplishments… new try at blogging.  🙂

Most everyone in the world is talking about (or has already talked about) their New Year’s Resolutions/Goals, etc.  Not to hop on the bandwagon, but it’s a fun and inspiring topic… so I’m playing with it, too.

I’ve already hit a couple of short-term goals this year already:

  • Submitted a novella for publishing
  • Gotten my email inbox to a manageable level (from over 1000 to under 140)
  • Handwritten my publishing deadlines for 2013 for Spencer Hill Press
  • Handwritten a Personal Goals sheet
  • Printed out my detailed deadline for January Spencer Hill Press projects
  • Accomplished editing deadlines thus far


And we’re just a week into the new year!

When I was going through my deadlines and goals, I went back through my prior years’ blog posts so I could get an idea of what I’d accomplished and what I could accomplish.  I’d forgotten that I never actually got around to publishing my goals on my blog last year… so I had to go back to my January 2011 posts to get an idea of what I’d been doing.

With the path my life has taken since 2011, most of those benchmarks and steps simply are… no longer useful.

When I sat down to make my plan for this year, I needed a whole new template!

And that’s ok.  I’m very happy with where my life is going.

Let’s have my accomplishments for 2012 explain why:

Became a Senior Editor at Spencer Hill Press.

I’ve been blessed in the past decade or so to have jobs and bosses who I have loved. And every move I’ve made has been an improvement… yet I can’t imagine a more healthy and supportive job than working at SHP.

At Spencer Hill Press, I’ve had the pleasure of working on many awesome books – which I will detail as they start coming out. 🙂


Published Short Stories

“Photo of a Mermaid” came out in UnCONventional by Spencer Hill Press

“Fixed” came out in Corrupts Absolutely? from Damnation Books


Sold Fiction

THE KELPIE – my first novel! – comes out this December from Spencer Hill Press

“Finding Fire” comes out in May in the Holiday Magick anthology, Spencer Hill Press

“Steadfast in the Face of Zombies” to Once Upon an Apocalypse Volume 1 – more on that when I get the info. 🙂


Lost Ten Pounds

After three years of gain or plateau – that’s still an accomplishment.


Rode in my First Competitive Horse Show – and GOT RIBBONS!

Mind you, it’s been well over a decade since I practiced any sport competitively.  This was HUGE. 🙂


… And there were a lot more life changes.

I traveled to four different countries I’d never been before. And, between those travels, I was without my husband who I’ve not lived without for over a decade.  In fact, I only lived on my own for three months out of college before we got married… so it was definitely… an experience.  I also got really into my job at Annie’s Book Stop of Worcester, helping with event coordination.

I left my last W2 job in May… because things with fiction and freelancing were picking up as well as they were.

And I still held my position as president for Broad Universe – though, honestly, between my Veep, Kimberly Long-Ewing and the rest of the Motherboard, it was a massive team effort for which I’m deeply grateful.

So, that’s 2012 for you.  Massive. Change.

From there, I move forward. With a lot of hope and energy for this year. 🙂

Thank you, Universe!

Oh?  What are my actual goals for this year? 😉 Well… that’s another blog post. 😉

Happy New Year!