Charater Interview Blog Hop - Heroines - Kate Henderson

Hi, and welcome to my character interview! I hope you had time last week to meet Elizabeth's heroine, Rebecca Simmons from When Cupid Came to Town. If you haven't, you're missing out! Go there now. I'll wait :) And while you're at it, here's some info about Elizabeth:

Elizabeth D. Spencer lives on Long Island, New York with her husband, three children, and two energetic Sheltie puppies, Brinkley and Carson. (Named for the dog from You’ve Got Mail and Downton Abbey’s very own Carson, the butler.) She shares a love of history with her family and a love of books.  Her days and nights are spent writing. When she is not writing Appellate briefs for the day job, she is busy writing historical romance novels. The greatest challenge has been learning to balance it all.  Coffee has been a tremendous help!

Okay, back to me :)
I was really looking forward to interviewing Kate Henderson, the forty-year-old widow and mother of two teenage sons from Crazy Little Thing Called Matchmaking- Book One in the Love and Laugh in Seashore Cove series. From what I've heard, she's a lot of fun, but a tad stressed these days.

Inspiration for Kate's home in Seashore Cove

It took me over an hour to drive out east to this interview. Seashore Cove is a small hamlet nestled amongst the many Hampton towns on Eastern Long Island. The drive, although long, was pleasant enough. Who wouldn't want to be surrounded by beaches on this warm summer day?

I quickly discover, however, that Kate's home is not on the beach like I'd hoped, but it's still very impressive. That's it there...well, not the exact one. But pretty close.

A young man of about thirteen greeted me at the door. "Well, hello, madam." He bowed rather gracefully for a gangly teenager.  You're here to interview my mom, aren't you? You're early."

Before I could answer, another young man entered the room. "Dude, you did not just say that."

"What? She's like twenty minutes early. Mom is busy."

I check the time on my cell. He's right, I am much too early. "I'm sorry. Should I come back a little later?"

"Hang on a sec." The 'dude' turns away (thank God) and screams, "Mom! The interview lady is here. Can she come in or should I send her away ?"

"Holy sh--" The older boy glanced at me. "Err, crap, man, Mom's right in the kitchen, not up the friggin block!"

"I know that, Alex, but before, I asked if I could borrow the car and she just nodded, so she's clearly not paying attention."

Despite the ringing in my ears, I heard a much softer, yet clearly agitated, voice answer. "Drew, for goodness sakes, let her in."

With a smile as loud as his voice, the boy I now know as Drew stepped aside. "M'lady," he said and with a sweeping gesture, pointed me in the direction of the kitchen.

The older boy just shook his head. I entered the huge center hall, amazed at its high ceilings and majestic oak staircase. "Sorry if my brother ruined your hearing. This way."

I followed Alex into an enormous kitchen that would bring any good chef to his knees and focused

on the blonde woman sitting at a small kitchenette. Paper and mail were spread out in front of her, a half-filled coffee mug by her side. She held what looked like a bill in one hand while she pecked at a calculator.

"If this is a bad time, I can come back."

Inspiration for Kate

Kate shook her head and pushed the papers aside. "I can take a few minutes. These bills aren't going anywhere." Her smile was genuine, but the bags under her eyes made her look older than she was.

After my eager acceptance for a cup of coffee, Kate sat down. "Let's get to it then." I pulled out my writing pad:

What is your greatest fear?

Instantly, her eyes glazed over, but she forced a smile. "Wow, you really do jump right in, don't you? I've already lived my greatest fear. Losing the love of my life, and then having to tell his children their father was gone."

I'm so sorry. Let's move on to something more upbeat then. Aside from your children, tell me one person who's made a positive difference in your life.

Inspiration for Dr. Jake Harris

Kate glanced down at the slew of bills covering the table, a slow blush rising up into her cheeks. Hmm, looks like I hit a nerve. "Jake. My boss. He's a lot younger than me, but he's helped me
become a stronger person. And, if you listen to my friend, Gladys, a happier person."

Where do you go when you need time to yourself?

"My bathroom." At my perplexed look she laughed and went on. "My husband, William, designed this house. He took pride in everything he did, but the master bathroom was his best work. It has a wonderful Jacuzzi tub that I soak in. It always helps me forget my problems...at least, for a little while."

Do you have a secret? And, if so, why do you feel the need to keep that secret?

Kate stared into her cup of coffee, gripping it as if doing so would keep a grip on her emotions. "Chances are I'll have to give up this house. I'm not looking forward to the day I have to tell my sons that we have to leave the only home they've ever know. Their father built this home, but he wasn't very cautious with money. William handled all the bills and I was happy to let him be in control of it, never questioning anything." She gripped the mug tighter. "He left us with practically nothing and I am so angry at him for that." She let out a humorless laugh. "I guess that's two secrets."

What one action from your past are you most ashamed of? 

"Allowing myself to be put in the position I am in now. I never questioned where our money was going. I always trusted that William had everything under control. Never. Again."

I closed my pad and pasted a smile on my face as I stood. This poor women. "I think I've tortured you enough. Thank you so much for agreeing to this."

Kate stood also and held out her hand. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

As I waved goodbye, I offered a small prayer that Kate would find a way to keep her home. I also prayed she'd allow herself to fall in love again.

Next week’s Character Interview will feature Elizabeth D. Spencer’s heroine, Rebecca Simmons from her Historical Romance, WHEN CUPID CAME TO TOWN. You’ll find that interview on Elizabeth’s blog – HERE - See more at: http://www.deboradale.com/character-interview-blog-hop-heroines-eden-widow/#comment-13144

Next week's character interview will feature Gwen Petrarch's heroine, Sirah from her Romantic Paranormal Erotic suspense, Masquerade. You'll find that interview here

Gwen began writing in the womb, much to her mother's chagrin (doctors thought it was gas).  The epiphany that Gwen should spend the rest of her life telling sexy, romantic, thrilling stories came a number of years ago.  She woke, set her intention and then six days and six hundred pages later 'House Husband (soon to be released) was born.  And she hasn't looked back since.  Call her a late bloomer... (she's no longer in the womb and has had a couple of kids of her own) or just a girl amassing a lifetime's worth of fodder to draw her stories from.  Whichever.  It's all about the love of the craft, just like everything else, do a thing because it fills you with joy and hope that you can share and fills your soul with every good thing.

Next week’s Character Interview will feature Elizabeth D. Spencer’s heroine, Rebecca Simmons from her Historical Romance, WHEN CUPID CAME TO TOWN. You’ll find that interview on Elizabeth’s blog – HERE - See more at: http://www.deboradale.com/character-interview-blog-hop-heroines-eden-widow/#comment-13144

Until next time, eat healthy and happy writing!

~Maggie 

Elizabeth D. Spencer lives on Long Island, New York with her husband, three children, and two energetic Sheltie puppies, Brinkley and Carson. (Named for the dog from You’ve Got Mail and Downton Abbey’s very own Carson, the butler.) She shares a love of history with her family and a love of books. Her days and nights are spent writing. When she is not writing Appellate briefs for the day job, she is busy writing historical romance novels. The greatest challenge has been learning to balance it all. Coffee has been a tremendous help! - See more at: http://www.deboradale.com/character-interview-blog-hop-heroines-eden-widow/#comment-13144

Elizabeth D. Spencer lives on Long Island, New York with her husband, three children, and two energetic Sheltie puppies, Brinkley and Carson. (Named for the dog from You’ve Got Mail and Downton Abbey’s very own Carson, the butler.) She shares a love of history with her family and a love of books. Her days and nights are spent writing. When she is not writing Appellate briefs for the day job, she is busy writing historical romance novels. The greatest challenge has been learning to balance it all. Coffee has been a tremendous help! - See more at: http://www.deboradale.com/character-interview-blog-hop-heroines-eden-widow/#comment-13144

Valentine's Day Sale!!

Ruby’s Letters – Maggie Van Well (Paranormal Romance) http://amzn.to/1zAN6K9

Now that RUBY'S LETTERS is out and my upcoming release LOVE EMERGENCY (book one in my small town romance series) is in the hands of my proofreader I've found myself with some spare time. That's kinda weird for me.

Most of my time is either taken up by my family, my husband's business or my writing. I'm making great progress with the second book in the small town series, ANGELS IN SEASHORE COVE, but every once in a while I like to take a break, relax, let me eyes refocus. So what do I do?

1. Cook: I'll wait while those who know me regain consciousness. All better? Okay, good. Ever since I started the LCHF (low carb, high fat) WOE (way of eating) I've tried to find new and creative ways to make meals interesting. Without the fillers of pasta, bread, potatoes and rice, there are only so many ways you can cook a chicken or steak without wanting to "accidentally" drop it on the floor and proclaim, "Oh, look, honey, dinner is ruined! I guess we have to go out!" It worked a few times. Hubby quickly caught on. I can no longer get away with blaming gravity for my inability to grasp dinner plates.

Happily, I've found some wonderful recipes that are not only healthy, but delicious! And no more wanting to drop plates...accidentally.

For those who want an awesome dessert, I highly recommend this low-carb cheesecake recipe. It's yummy with the almond pie crust or without. If you want a chocolate fix, just add 2 TBL of unsweetened cocoa to the cream cheese in the above linked recipe and Viola'! You've got yourself a sinfully good dessert that's not at all sinful.

2. Hidden Object Games: I've mentioned this in blogs and articles I've written before, but it really is a great way to just let my mind go off on its own while I search out all those pesky items in these computer games. If you've never played one you should a) be forewarned, they are addictive and b) start with Mystery Case Files: Madam Fate from Big Fish Games. Yes, they cost money (although, you can play them for an hour for free) but, for me, they're well worth it. You can also get a timed version on your tablet for free.

3. Clean the House: Now before you start judging, read this previous blog post. It's long, so grab a cup of tea first :)

Back? So now you see why cleaning the house--or being able to--is a huge deal for me. I still don't love housework, but I do it with flair now. Because I can. Because I want to.

4. Read: (like it needed to be said:) There were a few years where I didn't read as much as I wanted to. Now that I don't have to take afternoon naps anymore, I've found the time to turn off the "critique partner/writer" part of my brain and just enjoy being a reader.

So that's what I do in my spare time. I don't get a lot of it, with my muse, my kids and my husband constantly whispering in my ear, so when I have the precious few moments that are just for me, I use them wisely.

What do you like to do in your free time? Share in the comments below:)

Until next time, my friends, eat healthy and happy writing!

~Maggie

Ruby's Letters - Infamous Prologue

Thank you all so much for making release day for RUBY'S LETTERS such a wonderful experience! I love my readers--I love talking to them--so I want to give a small gift in return for all you've done.

Below is the original prologue from RUBY'S LETTERS. It's long--nine manuscript pages--and many didn't think it would work in the beginning of the story, so it was cut.

And that broke my heart.

The prologue gives you a chance to see what Hilary and Ruby were like in life. It starts on the day they met--a day neither woman could possibly forget. Hilary and Ruby are, of course, fictional characters, but the events that happen in the prologue are not.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed researching it!

May 17, 1884

No, this cannot be!

Hilary Smith ran down the narrow stairway of her Brooklyn Heights brownstone, unable to contemplate what she had just seen from her master bedroom window. Though strong and agile despite her age, she grew winded by the time she made it out onto the street. She hurried along with the crowd until she came to the guardrail that spanned the East River.

This sight always took her breath away.

The East River Bridge. So magnificent. Barely a year old, it had captured Hilary’s heart from the moment the first iron probe had been imbedded into the bedrock below. In a way, she felt the bridge was hers. She’d watched it from birth, marveled at its growth into the grand Gothic structure that connected Brooklyn to lower Manhattan.

     “Mother, did you see?”

     Hilary spun around. All three of her daughters rushed toward her. Similar only in looks, all were lovely in their spring dresses and golden hair styled in long swirls. Their blue eyes danced as they watched the spectacle before them.

     “Sara! Rebecca! Mary!” she scolded, in order of birth. “Why are you out here instead of getting ready for this evening’s dinner party?”

     “Mother, how can you even ask such a silly question?” Sara asked.

     Instead of berating her and reminding her daughter of her manners, Hilary turned back toward the bridge. Sara was right. It was indeed a silly question.

Everyone watched in awe as dozens of large gray elephants, bejeweled and draped with banners, marched across the bridge. The leader’s banner read Jumbo. The bright flashes and snaps of the press taking pictures mixed in with the oo’s and ahh’s of the crowd.

     “What on earth?” Hilary whispered.

     “P.T. Barnum.”

     Turning toward the soft, cheerful voice, she faced a woman only slightly younger than her own fifty-six years. She was no one really, a mere lower class woman wearing a dingy white blouse, half hidden under her crocheted, pastel-pink shawl. Her light brown hair, streaked with gray, appeared hastily twisted into a bun atop her head. Yet her maple-brown eyes sparkled with knowledge and life.  The woman’s scent perfumed the gentle breeze with the soft bouquet of lilacs. She was tiny and slight, looking as if a stronger breeze might take her away.

     Hilary sneered, her brow raised. “P.T. Barnum is marching elephants across the East River Bridge?”

     Her tone did not ward off the tiny woman. “Yes. Twenty-one to be exact.”

     “And how do you know this, Miss...?”

     “Ruby Van Leer.” Her smile brightened as she nodded her greeting to Sara, Rebecca and Mary before turning her eyes once again to Hilary. “I know many things, Mrs. Smith.”

     Her brow furrowed. She didn’t remember ever meeting this woman. “How do you know my name?”

     The tiny woman simply shrugged. “I know of you and your lovely daughters. I’m so sorry about your husband’s passing.”

     Hilary waved away the woman’s condolences. “Spare me your sympathies. Answer me about the elephants.”

“Mr. Barnum is marching the elephants across the bridge to prove it is safe after that dreadful tragedy barely a week after its opening.”

Hilary would always remember the day the bridge opened. She was one of the first to pay a penny to walk across into Manhattan. It had been like finally meeting an old friend.

But six says later, the bridge’s name would be blemished out of sheer stupidity.  

     “What tragedy? The twelve people trampled to death because some fool shouted the bridge was in danger of collapse?” Hilary sniffed in derision. Ignorant peasants. “If any of them had bothered to watch and learn about the bridge, they’d know it is bound to stand for hundreds of years.”

“But mother, that was so sad!” Rebecca cried. Sarah and Mary stood beside her, tears filling their eyes. 

With a snort, Hilary turned her attention back to the marching elephants. “This is nothing but a publicity stunt to show the circus is in town. Barnum is famous for them.”

     “Perhaps," the woman interjected. "But what’s the harm if it gives people peace of mind?”

     Hilary did not tolerate contradiction, especially by those with less class, less breeding. “Perhaps people shouldn’t be such imbeciles. It’s obvious the bridge is sound. There are those who will believe anything.”

     The dreamy look in this woman’s eyes turned Hilary’s stomach. She hated dreamers. Dreams were meant for gullible idiots.

“Some things are worth believing, even if there is nothing scientific to back them up. Don’t you think?” Ruby said.

     “You mean like God?” Rebecca asked, her eyes rounded in awe of this woman.

     “Yes.” The woman’s persistent smile brightened. “That’s a wonderful example. Another is love.”

     All three of Hilary’s daughters joined the conversation now. “I wish I could fall in love,” said Mary.

     “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Sara replied.

     With another disgusted snort, Hilary spun away.

     Ruby turned to the three young women hoping her smile reassured them. All three were of age, but had yet to find any suitors. She wondered if they knew it was because of their parents, especially their mother that no man had come to call. Perhaps she could help them with that.

Just looking at Hilary Smith made one think of steel. Gray hair, pulled back into a tight chignon, cold gray eyes that made a shiver run up the spine of even the strongest of men. Her tall, able frame stood ramrod straight. In contrast to her austerity, she smelled of the finest musk oil. Intelligent and well-read, she considered herself more astute than most.

And she probably was.

Hilary was, sadly, a lost cause, but her daughters needn’t continue to suffer for her.

     As the women watched the last of the elephants march across the bridge to a whirlwind of applause, Hilary returned her attention to her daughters. “Away! Back to the house with all of you.” She placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder and pushed her aside.

At the older woman’s touch, Ruby’s blood ran cold.

March 13, 1888

    

     Hilary stared at the frozen world outside her window. Snow drifts lined her street. People tried to steady themselves on the icy sidewalks, hoping to make it to work.

 The days leading up to the unexpected blizzard were mild and many had looked forward to an early spring. But on Monday the steady rain had turned into a heavy snow. By Tuesday the city was paralyzed. Telephone and telegraph lines snapped, not that Hilary cared. No one called her anymore.

The seven-foot drifts did not mesmerize Hilary or the sounds of carriages that had been eerily silent the last few days. No, it was memories that held her attention. Staring out her bedroom window at the East River Bridge—commonly known as the Brooklyn Bridge now--its cables looking like strings of ice, she remembered the day almost

four years ago when the elephants crossed its impressive width. The day she met that woman. The day that started the disintegration of the only joy she’d ever had in her life.

     Turning away from her gloomy thoughts, she headed down to the garden floor. With hesitation, she opened the door. Someone had shoveled a path. It annoyed her no one shoveled out her parlor floor entrance. She stepped out onto her newly shoveled porch, surprised to see her carrier had delivered the New York Sun.

Blizzard Was King the paper read. Hundreds dead, a near famine for those who didn’t have proper stores of food, and coal was scarce. Even though Hilary was never in any real danger from the unexpected storm, she was still glad to be rid of it.

Some coffee and a bit of food might quiet her foul mood. Her maid refused to live-in, as did the other servants. Hilary had argued and threatened to fire them all, but of course they knew it was an empty threat. No one else would work for her. So, Hilary had been stuck in the brownstone all alone during the horrendous storm because none of them could make it to work.

She found her way to the kitchen only to have her anger return full force at the sight of the large fireplace that occupied the room. It was old and ugly, obsolete now that she had a gas stove.

She had hired a mason to brick it up, complaining about the draft it created. The job should have taken only a day (she certainly hovered over him enough to make sure he didn’t dawdle) but because of the blizzard, here it was three days later and the work was still not complete. Brick, two rows deep, started from the floor to halfway up the opening of the fireplace. Mason tools and supplies still littered her kitchen floor.

Slapping the morning post onto the counter, she pulled out her cast-iron frying pan and began to prepare breakfast. Anger simmered like a well-cooked stew when she realized she couldn’t have milk in her coffee. The milkman hadn’t been able to deliver, nor had the baker. No hot buttered roll this morning either.

Heavy knocking at her door had her banging the frying pan onto the counter. Her teeth set on edge, she moved stiffly toward the entranceway.

The white she saw when she opened the door had nothing to do with the snow-covered street, but the white-hot rage that fogged her vision caused by the woman on her doorstep.

“Hello, Mrs. Smith. May I come in?” Ruby Van Leer asked. Her long wool cape and hat had seen better days. Her ever-present smile was gone, replaced with a serious stare. The sweet smell of lilacs, something Hilary learned to hate over the last four years, engulfed her like a determined glove.

“You have some nerve coming to my home,” Hilary spat out.

“I have been in contact with your daughter. Please, I need to speak with you.”

A vein in her temple threatened to burst as the woman pushed past her, without invitation, removed her cloak and hung it on the hook by the door, then walked toward the kitchen.

Overwhelming fury had her slamming the door before following the woman down the hall to the back of the house.

     Hilary had no idea they’d both be dead by lunchtime.

****

I hope you enjoyed this "little something extra" to RUBY'S LETTERS. If you have any questions or comments, please leave them in the comments section below. I'd love to hear from you!

Until next time, eat healthy and happy writing!

~Maggie

Release Day!

I'm not supposed to make another post until tomorrow when I share the Prologue that didn't make it to the final version  of RUBY'S LETTERS, but I couldn't stay away.

Not today.

It's finally here! RUBY'S LETTERS is out! I so hope all who read it love it as much as I do. I always wanted to write a ghost story, and RUBY'S LETTERS is the result. So I'm going to sit back with some coffee and a piece of my favorite low-carb cheesecake (you can find the recipe here) Add a tablespoon or two of unsweetened cocoa and you've got yourself a low-carb chocolate cheesecake!

If you ever get the chance to come to NYC, you must go to the Pierrepont Promenade in Brooklyn Heights. Don't worry. You won't find Emma's haunted house there. That place fictional, but the area is very real and magical!

From NY Harbor Parks website, Brooklyn Heights Promenade

So stop by tomorrow when I share the prologue to RUBY'S LETTERS!

10 Things You Didn't Know About "Ruby's Letters!"

With the official release of Ruby's Letters only days away, here are 10 things you didn't know:

1. Emma is very loosely based on me (and I do mean very loosely based). Once upon a time, I owned a fireplace and chimney restoration company, but I was not in the field like Emma. I stuck close to the office.

Caroline G. Atkinson School. Freeport, NY

2. Emma got her maiden name and married name from my sister-in-laws, Barbara DeVuono and Kristine Hopkins.

3. Ryan Atkinson was named after the Caroline G. Atkinson school in Freeport, NY. An elementary school I attended.

Harlem Brownstone

4. Even though the story takes place on Brooklyn Heights, NY, the actual inspiration for Betsy Morris's home is a brownstone in Harlem.


5. Betsy Morris was named after my second son's favorite grade school teacher. She made such an impact on him, I felt I had to honor her in some way.

6. The character, Bart, is based on stand-up comedian Hugh Van Well. Yes, he is related to me, and, yes, he is that crazy.

7. Other than Bart, none of Emma's employees are based on any one person, but some of their antics did actually happen on job sites. I'm not telling you which ones :-p

8. Many of the superstitions mentioned in the story came from a book on actual superstitions.

9. Finding random items inside a walled-up fireplace is a common occurrence--very old newspapers, tools, dead animals, and, one time, a box of condoms from 1912--finding a human body, however; is not (thank God!)

10. Originally, Ruby's Letters had a prologue, but it got mixed reviews from my critique partners and beta readers. Some absolutely loved it, others felt it was too long for a prologue and/or wasn't needed. In the end, it was nixed. Personally, I loved and it was with great pain that I removed it.

Speaking of the prologue--here's a little teaser :) Find out how the pictures below tie into the prologue to Ruby's Letters in my next post!

So, there you have the 10 things you probably didn't know about Ruby's Letters. If you have any other questions, always feel free to ask!

Until next time, my friends, eat healthy and happy writing!

~Maggie

Cover Reveal - Ruby's Letters!!

Even though this isn't my debut novel, I've never done a cover reveal before. I hope you're as excited as I am! I love this cover. I've been dying to share it with you! So here it is:

Isn't it beautiful? My cover designer, Greg Simanson did an amazing job!

 Ruby's Letters is a contemporary romance set in Brooklyn Heights, NY. It's got ghosts and suspense just in time for Halloween!

Look for Ruby's Letters October 23rd!

Come back for upcoming posts which will include:

• The prologue to Ruby's Letters
• 10 things you didn't know about Ruby's Letters
• Details about my upcoming small town, contemporary romance series "Love and Laugh on Long Island"
• And, of course, new posts about leading a low-carb lifestyle!

Until next time, my friends, eat healthy and happy reading!

~Maggie

Low-Carb, High Fat are Not Naughty Words

I'm a romance writer, and as a published author that means book signings, public appearances and getting my picture taken--a lot! And I hate getting my picture taken.

One of the reasons-- I'm not photogenic. Seriously, I'm not. I'm a fairly attractive woman, some might even say pretty (thanks, Mom!) but the camera hates me. It always has, no matter what my dress size is. That photo here? Took me over 30 tries to get a halfway decent picture of me that actually looked like me.

Another reason I hate having my picture taken--I'm fat. Yup, I said it. I'm fat. No, this is not a new revelation, although I've found some people think if they say something about it, it might 'enlighten' me into losing weight. Like they told me something I didn't know and I'm going to take their words to heart and immediately jump on the treadmill.

Newsflash--that rarely happens. There are a lot of other myths surrounding fat people, but I won't get into that now. I'm not here to whine. I made my own bed, so now I have to sleep in it.

Here's my story:

Ever since an accident when I was 19 that laid me up for months, I've had a weight problem. In between having five children, I was up and down the scale so much, I nicknamed mine the seesaw. But about 6 years ago, that seesaw sank right into the ground and stayed that way. I was at my highest weight ever. I was miserable, my back hurt all the time, my joints ached constantly, I had moderate rosacea and I always felt sick. And the worst--a form of acid reflux that had bile rise into my throat while I slept. I would wake up gasping for air.  It burned, it was painful and more often than not, I inhaled the bile and burned my trachea. It would take about an hour of coughing and chugging down milk for the unpleasantness to stop enough so I could sleep.

Eventually, I joined Jenny Craig.

I'm sure it's no shock to anyone that the Jenny Craig system can be expensive, but I wasn't going to put a price tag on my health. I could afford it, so I was going to do it. The food was pretty damn good, even if they didn't have a lot to choose from for me. That's not their fault, I'm very picky about my food--and I don't like peppers. It seemed everything had peppers in it.

Anyway, the food was good, the desserts were yummy, and except for the time between lunch and dinner, I was never really hungry. My counselor was compassionate and very knowledgeable. I lost a LOT of weight and my back stopped hurting. My joints still ached and the energy I was expecting didn't show up, but I looked better even though I had a ways to go.

The problem? I was sick all the time. Constant fatigue, to the point I couldn't make it through the day without a nap (as a writer, this didn't shock anyone) I couldn't go through a week without getting either a sinus headache or migraine, sometimes both at the same time. Ever have that?I have. It sucks.  It got to the point where my kids were shocked to see me at my laptop in the afternoon since I would usually be in bed and only reappeared in time to make dinner. But at least I was doing well on Jenny Craig.

Then the recession hit.

As the wife of a business owner, a contracting business no less, the recession hit us hard. Money got tight and suddenly, I couldn't afford Jenny Craig anymore. I was on my own.

So what does an overweight person do when no longer on a food plan? Go back to old habits, of course. Within half-a-year, I'd gained back 15 lbs. I tried eating healthy by many doctors', nutritionists' and even our own government's standards. Low fat, high carb. Lean meats, lots of grains, and the least amount of fat you can achieve.

Fast forward 6 months, I was still sick, and only about 5 lbs lighter because I couldn't stick to any diet. At least with Jenny Craig I had accountability. Having a personal counselor was great and facing that scale with her right next to me kept me on the straight and narrow.

On a side note, it was at this time I was doing research on coconut oil and all it's fabulous benefits, but I'll save that for another post. I bring it up now because it was my interest in coconut oil that prompted my oldest son to direct me to a documentary called Fat Head. He'd seen it listed on Netflix's "watch instantly" queue and thought I'd be interested because they mention coconut oil.

So I watched it. And the movie changed my life.

I won't go into all the details now, but I will say it lead me toward low-carb, medium-protein, high-fat eating. Not exactly cheap, but still cheaper than Jenny Craig. I signed up on the Atkins website, read the forums and dove right in.

The first few days were fine. Eating like this definitely keeps you satisfied. But after about a week, I suffered from what's commonly known as "Atkins Flu." My head felt like it might explode, I was nauseous and my joints were screaming. But I carried on, having read about this on the forums and even expected it to happen. There are things you can do to alleviate the symptoms--like drink lots and lots of water and sip beef broth.

Then I woke up after about 3 days and I felt fantastic! All of a sudden I could get through the day without feeling so tired I had to sleep. No more headaches that lasted for days. No more joint pain. I was doing housework that I'd normally ask my kids to help me with. And best of all, no more acid reflex! I could sleep through the night. All this with still a ton of weight to lose--okay, I don't weigh a ton, it's a metaphor, so hush.

In western medicine, there is no cure for rosacea, and mine was disappearing! However, that could be from the coconut oil I've incorporated into my diet.

So for years I was doing everything "right." Trying to lose weight, listening to the so-called "experts" and the whole time I was making my health worse. Now, I eat eggs, bacon, fatty meats, butter--all good things that have been vilified by the medical community.  This is not a no-carb diet, but a selective carb diet. You don't need a lot for "brain food" as the experts lead you to believe. You get brain food from healthy fats, but even so, the small amount of carbs you do need can be obtained through eating vegetables. Avocado, for instance, is an excellent choice for both fat and carbs.

I still struggle, but I've begun to think of this as a lifestyle and not a diet. It's not about the weight loss anymore, although that is important, but feeling good and being healthy. When I eat right, I feel great, when I don't, the headaches, especially, come back with a vengeance, as does the acid reflex. Not fun.

If you're interested, I strongly suggest watching the documentary Fat Head.  The narrator and star, Tom Naughton, explains everything so much better than I could and he's funny! Personally, I could've done without the beginning commentary against the movie Super Size Me, but I understand why he chose to add it. You could probably find the movie on YouTube, but, since Tom does a blog (linked above), research and spreads the word all for free, I chose to buy his DVD to support the great work he's doing. I watch it whenever I need a kick back into eating right.

So that's my story. join me on occasion as I continue my journey on writing a best-selling romance novel, researching healthy nutrition and maintaining the low-carb lifestyle.

Until next time, my friends, eat healthy and happy writing!

~Maggie

Reality Right Now-One Mother's Perspective

The tragedy in Newtown, CT has stopped the hearts of so many and has sent our country into mourning. Most can't fathom what the parents of those lost are going through right now. There will come a day, when life has moved on and they discover there is no going back to normal but learn to live with a new normal.

But that's not their reality right now.
 
They will laugh again. 
The day will come when they get through the day without crying.
There will come a day when they can say their child's name and smile.
They will be able to look at pictures/videos and remember without tears.
But the holidays, their birthdays and the day they passed will never be the same.

So what is their reality right now?

I an a writer who has felt this pain and still I have no words to describe it.

Breathing is a chore.

The idea of eating makes you nauseous.

They pray for sleep, search it out, if for no other reason than to escape their reality.

Movement is painful. Just lifting a limb takes effort.

Even if they are surrounded by loved ones, they might feel very alone. Many loved their child, but no one knows the loss like the mother and father.

The desire to wake up from this nightmare is so strong, there may be mornings when, for a few precious seconds, they believe it was just a nightmare.

Guilt. No matter how irrational.

They will have loved ones come to them and say kind, yet meaningless words. I don't mean this to sound harsh. When we see our loved ones suffering, we want to do or say anything to take some of the pain away.

Don't. You can't, so don't try.

Don't say they have to be strong for their other children.  The parent is mourning for the child they lost. Let them mourn. You want to help? Hug their other children. Comfort them. Because Mommy and Daddy might not be able to.

It doesn't matter if this is God's will.  Don't try to rationalize.

Saying the child is with Jesus (or whatever their personal belief) does not help. One day it might. All that matters right now, is that child is not with them.

Do not say they can always have more children. Yes, it's been said. And NO it does not help. You can never, ever replace a child. EVER.

You want to know what to say?  

"I'm sorry."

Cry with them. Hug them, And say you're sorry. That's it.

Don't ever forget the child they lost. If they had 3 children before the tragic event, don't say they have 2 children now.

Some grieving parents want to be left alone. Some want to be surrounded by people who loved their child. Whatever their choice, respect it.

Everyone grieves differently. Do not assume you know. Even I, who have been through this, can't tell you how everyone will react.

Don't put a time limit on their grief. Yes, people do this. It's been fourteen years since I lost Brandon and when people ask,
"How long did it take to move on?"
my answer always is,
"Any day now."

And it doesn't matter the child's age, or how he or she passed. Whether it be in a tragedy like the one on Friday, an accident or a long battle with illness, nothing eases the pain but time.

But that's not their reality right now.

All I can do is pray that these parents find the comfort I eventually did. I cry for them. Feel physical pain in my heart. I can't look at the pictures of the children lost being posted on Facebook. I just can't. And I know many of you feel the same way.

"So Mommy and Daddy, don't cry and wipe away that tear, for remember I'll be spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year"