Kat's Keep

A Reader's Rant

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 21:38:00 +0000

I first noticed it a few years back; errors popping up in novels. It is a pet peeve of mine. In published books, I expect correct spelling and grammar, at least where it isn't a deliberate use by the author. When the publisher is a company that's been in the business for at least 25 years, I expect they know what they're doing and how to do it right. Surely, they know how to edit a book, especially for something as simple as spelling or grammar.

Or not.

Take this sentence from “Flirt” by Laurell K Hamilton as an example. “He smiled flashed that brilliant white smile in his tan and left me to my menu.” Say what? My first thought on reading it was, well, that's some crappy writing. But that's the thing, it isn't really. It is really lousy editing.

I've little doubt she meant to use one or the other – smiled/flashed – for that sentence. I suspect when she wrote it, she couldn't decide and simply put both in. It's logical, something I've done myself when writing a piece. That's where good editing comes in.

You could say, Ms Hamilton should have caught it. Perhaps. As an author, you can read something over and you'd swear that word simply wasn't there. You know what you want it to say, and your brain just reads it that way for you. Been there, done that. The difference? I had it pointed out to me by ... someone editing the piece for me.

Another example is “The Shimmer” by David Morrell. In the book, Morrell switches between various characters in different chapters. His main character is named Page, but he also tells the story from the perspective of a number of other characters.

In one such chapter, he is relating the conversation between two men, neither of them the hero of the piece. But suddenly, there on page 88, one of those characters is now Page. But wait! No, it is not Page. It's just another example of poor editing.

Now, I truly doubt Ms Hamilton was the only one to edit her book. I am certain Mr Morrell's book was looked at by others, most of them in the publishing industry. So why, with the possible number of readers who looked at these manuscripts before publication, does not one of them catch the error? Too much reliance on spell/grammar checker? Was it only ever looked at in digital form and somehow this affects the editing process? I don't know.

What I do know is this: every time I read one of these errors in a published work, it bothers me. Often, it ruins a perfectly good scene, throws off the flow of the story. And that really is unfortunate. It does a disservice to the reader, but equally, it fails to properly present the work or the author. Bad editing makes the author seem like a poor writer.

It should not be too much to ask for a publishing house to, at a minimum, provide adequate editing services. After all, isn't that what they get paid for? They are telling us it is. In the last two weeks, they've published articles stating that the cost of ebooks is largely determined by the cost of editing. If that's the case, they need better editors.

Given the costs of books or ebooks, the least we as readers, and frankly authors as well, should expect is a decent job of editing. Surely it is not too much to ask that they, as publishers, provide an error-free product. The pleasure of reading a good book should not be compromised by lousy editing.

It's Not Funny and It's Not News

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 17:32:00 +0000

I have made it a policy to stay away from politics and religion on this blog. But there are things I simply cannot sit idly by and allow to pass without comment. This was one of those things.

I am a proud to be a Canadian. It is, as with most Canadians, a quiet patriotism. I like our Mounties’ red coats, our simple flag, our English/French dichotomy even when it’s infuriating, and especially the land and all its bounty. I am pleased by our contributions to the world, like peace-keepers and hockey.

There are a few things that I feel deserve respect from the rest of the world, however. Most notably, I believe our military has earned that right. So it was with no little distaste and a good deal of anger that I watched this clip on a political blog I sometimes read.

Now Fox News calls itself “fair and balanced,” but there is nothing fair about that segment. The disrespect shown for our forces is nothing less than contemptible.

A little history, for those who may not know. Our forces joined the US and Britain in Afghanistan as early as February of 2002. We did so at the request of the Americans and as a direct result of the 9/11 attacks. Since then, over 110 of our people have died serving in this war.

Our military forces are not many, only 60 000. That includes the army, navy, air force, and our special forces. There are 20 000 reservists. There are nearly 3000 troops in Afghanistan now. That’s almost 5% of our forces. Meantime, we still have forces engaged in other commitments around the globe as well. And of course, our own defence needs at home.

These are hard-working dedicated men and women who are serving, not only their country, but the larger world as well. The government has never had the monies to build a state-of-the-art military, so they make do with second-hand and older equipment.

The war in Afghanistan is stretching our resources and personnel thin. The fact that one of our generals feels that our military will need a year to recover should make it clear to anyone that this commitment comes a great cost. Instead, these people feel it is the basis for derogatory and demeaning jokes.

My husband is an American. He pointed out there were likely many in the US who do not know that Canada has forces in Afghanistan. He is, no doubt, right. The average American has little reason to know of our involvement, as it wasn’t mentioned in their news or by their government overly often, if at all.

But these people aren’t average Americans. They work in the news industry. They found this little story, which I will say, was reported only quietly - even in Canada. If they did not acquaint themselves with any other facts, then as journalists they failed miserably to adhere to even the basic tenements of their jobs. If they did know and still proceeded with this outrageous commentary, they are beneath contempt.

Now, I do not extrapolate the sentiments expressed by this group to the population at large in America. This piece does not reflect the opinions of most Americans, I believe. Unfortunately, many who do view this clip will do exactly that; take this as the American stance. Was it necessary to create ill feeling between our countries, for a few fans fleeting amusement, no less?

The tragedy that is war should never be trivialized in this fashion. Those who serve should be shown the respect their courage deserves. This should be especially true between nations who are allies, who are serving on the same side, in the same war.

Should any who read this feel they wish to express their concerns to Fox News, you can do so at these email addresses: yourcomments@foxnews.com, redeye@foxnews.com.

The Rose Labyrinth

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 19:10:00 +0000

Forwith, this is my review of The Rose Labyrinth.

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Author Information: (taken from the website)

Titania Hardie is a serious student of esoteria. Creating the riddles for The Rose Labyrinth, she drew on her love of literature, history, music and myth, as well as her far-reaching knowledge of folklore and divination. She has first class honours degrees in psychology and English, and was awarded the Chatterton bursary for post-graduate study at Bristol University, where she is currently completing her MA on the Romantic Poets.
While she has written many non-fiction books and children's stories, The Rose Labyrinth is Titania's first novel, and is a fascinating departure from her previous work. Like Lucy, the novel's hero, she was born and educated in Sydney, Australia, but for many years has lived in Somerset with her husband and two daughters.

Plot Summary: (taken from the website)

Before his death in 1609, the brilliant Elizabethan spy, astrologer and mathematician John Dee hid many of his papers, believing that the world was not prepared for the ideas they held. For seventeen generations, his female descendants have held his most precious secrets, waiting for the right moment to bring them to light.
In spring 2003, Dee's many times great granddaughter, dying of cancer, was forced to pass the enigmatic legacy to one of her two sons. Diana chose her passionate, tempestuous younger boy, leaving a tiny silver key and a piece of parchment with a note: For Will, when he is something, or someone, that he is not now.
Over the long, hot summer of 2003, while seriously ill Lucy King awaits heart surgery in London, Will travels Europe seeking to decipher the clues in the ancient document, and find a lock to fit the key. It is a search that will leave him and Lucy inextricably linked, and lead into a world of extraordinary riddles and dangerous secrets.

Format:

This is a 384-page novel, divided into a prologue, 34 chapters, and an epilogue. Chapter length varies anywhere from 5 to 25 pages each. The narration is third person with the perspective shifting between the multiple characters. The ISBN of this book is 13: 978-1-4165-8460-5 or ISBN 10: 1-4165-8460-9. It is published by Atria Books, a division of Simon & Shuster.

Analysis:

I received this book at the dreary end of January, whilst my mother spent a third week in hospital. It came as a lovely surprise, since I’d forgotten all about it in the throes of dealing with the health issues at hand. And it was lovely.

The book is beautifully presented. It arrived in a hardcover case, complete with riddle cards and a hardcover copy of the novel. The artwork brings to mind medieval manuscripts and alchemical symbolism. Somewhat dreamy and evocative, combined with the plot summary from the book jacket, it provided an allure to any reader looking for mystery and romance.

The story is written in a dreamy, detailed style that is easy to read. The characters are human and easily liked. The settings are romantic and have just enough exoticism to make them extraordinary. But ... and you had to know that was coming ...

The character of Will is larger than life and draws the reader immediately into the quest. He is charming, articulate, and possessed of a joie de vive that makes one smile to read about. He is someone you are anxious to know more about. Such a great beginning.

Thing is, by chapter five, Will is dead. It is tragic, especially for the reader. Everyone, for the rest of the book, talks about Will, how wonderful he was, and how much they miss him. And you know, they’re right. I missed him too. So much so, that I lost complete interest in the rest of the novel.

The details become stultifying. There is no need for me to know what Lucy had for breakfast; it is enough to know she ate. There is also little actual doing in the story. Much of it is the characters reading or dreaming new information to their quest. Even Lucy’s kidnapping early on in the book has a precipitous anti-climatic resolution.

For those who enjoy a slow leisurely stroll in their reads, this is the book for you. The adventure is muted, the plot hinges on mental endeavours, and the romance is predictable. In fact, the major plot twist was somewhat evident to me at about chapter seven.

There is one major quibble I have with this novel, and it has nothing to do with the actual story. It does speak to the kind of read this book is however. The plot summary, as quoted above, is not what this story is really about. That blurb is misleading. Will is dead by chapter five, and although he remains an integral part of the backstory, he is not travelling Europe, looking for clues.

I originally signed on to review this book based on that book description. To find it a falsehood did not endear the story to me. It may well have had a negative impact on my interest in the book from that point onward. This is a marketing ploy and should not reflect on the author or the novel. Yet, of course, it does.

Conclusion:

This is a lovely book, in presentation and in the actual writing. It is a slow soft read, with dreamy overtones. The characters are alive and easily liked. Perhaps this is more an autumn read than a spring novel; a book to curl up with a cold winter’s night. Whatever the case, it is a well-written tale about not much of anything.

And yes, I do still miss Will.

Words

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 20:04:00 +0000

I enjoy words. I like the way they feel on the tongue. The sound of them and the effect of them fascinate me. I like etymology and even just pieces of words.

And today, I found one of particular delight.

Nubivagant. Pronounced “noob – e- vay- gant”. A thoroughly lovely word. It means moving through or among clouds.

Finally, a true descriptor of how I feel on my foggiest fibromyalgia days. Those days when I struggle to make myself understood from within a maddening blanket of thick cloud.

I feel nubivagant today, I shall say. And those forced to deal with my drifting, zombie-state will know immediately what they are in for.

Luckily, today is not such a day. The sun is shining and I am clear-headed.

If you too like words, I highly recommend checking out Save the Words, a website put together by Oxford University. Help save a word from extinction.

Ten True Things about Me

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 20:03:00 +0000

Morningstar asked me to take part in this meme. So for her, here are ten true things about me.

Ten True Things About Me

I am passionately soul-deep in love with my husband. I am the luckiest woman to have found a man like Buffalo.

I enjoy food. Luscious fruits and vegetables, steamy soups and stews, and spicy meats are works of art. I find the act of cooking – or baking for that matter – to be a creative endeavour; and I’m good at it.

I am a wordsmith. I enjoy writing, the feel of words and the pleasure of a well-crafted tale. I equally enjoy reading others’ works, especially fantasy, mystery, thrillers, and adventures.

I am organized, perhaps too much so for those who live with me. I am often called on by family and friends to help them get things in order, though. Even my jobs usually involve getting things in order and keeping them that way.

I am a geek – computers, gadgets, software, sci-fi, goth, even steampunk – love it all.

I do not have many friends but those I do have are lifelong and precious to me.

I enjoy travelling, especially on the back of Buffalo’s Harley; wind in my hair, sun on my skin, free and just a little wild.

I can take a decent photo – at 70 mph from the back of that same Harley.

I am a political junkie – much to my husband’s dismay. I enjoy watching the play of roles and circumstance unfold on the stage of soon-to-be history.

I have fibromyalgia. I have had for most of my life but I make every effort to not let that define me or limit (as much as possible) what I do or try in this life.

Devil Bones

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 23:04:00 +0000

First, my apologies to both Scribner and Mini Book Expo. The delay in posting this review should not have happened. However, I must plead extenuating circumstances as I found myself without an internet connection for the past three weeks.

That said, let us move on to the book, a much more interesting story.

Devil Bones by Kathy Reichs

Author Information: (taken from her website credentials)

Kathy Reichs's first novel Déjà Dead catapulted her to fame when it became a New York Times bestseller and won the 1997 Ellis Award for Best First Novel. Her other Temperance Brennan novels include Death du Jour, Deadly Décisions, Fatal Voyage, Grave Secrets, Bare Bones, Monday Mourning, Cross Bones, Break No Bones, Bones to Ashes, and Devil Bones(August 28, 2008).

From teaching FBI agents how to detect and recover human remains, to separating and identifying commingled body parts in her Montreal lab, as a forensic anthropologist Kathy Reichs has brought her own dramatic work experience to her mesmerizing forensic thrillers. For years she consulted to the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in North Carolina, and continues to do so for the Laboratoire de Sciences Judiciaires et de Médecine Légale for the province of Québec. Dr. Reichs has traveled to Rwanda to testify at the UN Tribunal on Genocide, and helped exhume a mass grave in Guatemala. As part of her work at JPAC (formerly CILHI) she aided in the identification of war dead from World War II, Korea, and Southeast Asia.

Dr. Reichs is one of only seventy-seven forensic anthropologists ever certified by the American Board of Forensic Anthropology. She served on the Board of Directors and as Vice President of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences, and is currently a member of the National Police Services Advisory Board in Canada. She is a Professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of North Carolina-Charlotte.

Dr. Reichs is a native of Chicago, where she received her Ph.D. at Northwestern. She now divides her time between Charlotte, NC and Montreal, Quebec.

Plot Summary: (taken from the back of the book)

In a house under renovation, a plumber uncovers a cellar no one knew about, and makes a rather grisly discovery -- a decapitated chicken, animal bones, and cauldrons containing beads, feathers, and other relics of religious ceremonies. In the center of the shrine, there is the skull of a teenage girl. Meanwhile, on a nearby lakeshore, the headless body of a teenage boy is found by a man walking his dog.

Nothing is clear -- neither when the deaths occurred, nor where. Was the skull brought to the cellar or was the girl murdered there? Why is the boy's body remarkably well preserved? Led by a preacher turned politician, citizen vigilantes blame devil worshippers and Wiccans. They begin a witch hunt, intent on seeking revenge.

Forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan -- "five-five, feisty, and forty-plus" -- is called in to investigate, and a complex and gripping tale unfolds in this, Kathy Reichs's eleventh taut, always surprising, scientifically fascinating mystery.

Format:

This is a 304-page novel, divided into 39 chapters. Chapter length varies from 5 to 9 pages each. The narration is first person The ISBN-13 of this book is 978-0-7432-9438-6 and the ISBN-10 of this book is 0-7432-9438-6. Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Shuster, publishes this book.

Analysis:

I have been a happy reader of Kathy Reichs since I read her first novel, Déjà Dead. The characters are complex, well rounded, and just flawed enough to make them interesting. Her plot lines flow and the science is a fascinating glimpse inside a number of disciplines.

Devil Bones is a great Halloween tale. It has all the necessary elements of voodoo ceremonies, cauldrons, beads, feathers, and bones, skulls and even a headless torso. There are devil worshippers and Wiccans, Christians and politicians.

As always, Kathy Reichs’ writing flows smoothly and makes for an easy read. As always, her characters are complex and varied. Altogether, a decent book … decent but not great. In fact, the book seemed a bit choppy. Truth is, I could see this as a movie or maybe a TV show.

And that’s the problem with this book, in a nutshell. It would be a great TV show script. The scenes do not flow together as they should in a book; they take time out for commercial breaks. The characters and situations are a little too contrived for reading but would make for gripping scenes. All told, it would have been an excellent Halloween episode on Bones.

Conclusion

Kathy Reichs is currently working hard at producing that TV show. Bones is enjoying great success and not surprising as she brings the same brilliant story telling to the show as she has to her books.

That said, this book suffers for her TV success. The characters show no new development. The story is a little too contrived and the wrap-up too neat and tidy. So for me, a decent read, just not great. But, yes, it would be a great episode of Bones.

Yoga for Fibromyalgia

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 21:03:00 +0000

Author: Shoosh Lettick Crotzer
Publisher: Rodmell Press
ISBN-10: 1-930485-16-6
ISBN-13: 978-930485-16-7

Author Info: (taken from the website)
Shoosh Lettick Crotzer has been teaching yoga since 1974 and now specializes in working with students with special needs. She has a masters degree in diagnostic education. In 1994, while teaching for the National MS Society, she founded the production and distribution company Mobility Limited and wrote and produced the video Yoga for MS. In 1997, she wrote and produced Yoga for Arthritis in partnership with the Arthritis Foundation. She has given workshops and made presentations on yoga and arthritis at international rheumatology conferences.

Format:
The book is divided into four parts with a foreword, a resources list, and an index. The first part is a general bit of information about fibromyalgia. The second part is a thorough description of the recommended yoga poses. The third part offers some guidelines and yoga sequences to practice for particular aims such as upper body pain relief or reducing fatigue. Additionally, she provides a beginners sequence and a more advanced sequence. In the fourth part, she offers some thoughts on sleep, nutrition, exercise, and psychological well-being.

Analysis:
“Move, breathe, and relax to improve your quality of life” is the tagline of the book. This is an accurate summary of the book’s goals. Those with fibromaylgia know that there is no cure and the author clearly states not to expect miracles in following her advice. The goal is a simple and gradual improvement in the quality of life you live.
The exercises and yoga poses the author recommends are simple to learn with or without an instructor. They involve easily managed stretches and many have both a seated and a standing position. Along with the poses, the author has thoughtfully provided some visualization and relaxation techniques to further enhance the efficacy of the exercises.
Much of the advice in the fourth part of the book is basic, common sense thinking. That said, the information can serve as a timely reminder of better practices and habits. Ultimately, of course, it comes down to the closing lines of the book. “Then it is up to you. Only you can make time to play, rest, and enjoy your life.”

Conclusion:
This is a well-put-together book that offers some simple basic exercises and ideas for improving the quality of your life as you deal with fibromyalgia. The different poses and stretches are explained in detail and often both seated and standing poses are illustrated. The author even offers useful suggestions for incorporating these exercises into your everyday life.
The book itself is written in plain English, no grandiose or exotic terminology to learn. The author does not patronize the reader; instead, she uses clear concise writing to fully explain her philosophy and instructions. Altogether, it was a pleasure to read, especially the visualization techniques. Just reading through them was a relaxing experience.
I cannot, as yet, speak to the success of following the recommended routines. Having fibromyalgia myself, it seems reasonable that there are benefits to the program as the author sets it out. Certainly, the sleep/nutrition advice is worth taking. Now, if only the book came with a dose of discipline to ensure one followed through on the techniques taught.

Links:

The book: Yoga for Fibromyalgia

Review written for: Mini Book Expo

Snack Time

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 18:31:00 +0000

I made these biscuits to go with evening coffee. They have a lovely taste and texture. For those who like peanut butter/chocolate combinations, they will be a treat.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Scones

3 cups flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup butter
4 tbsp peanut butter
1 1/8 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 pkg chocolate chips

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. In a seperate bowl, mix the butter and peanut butter together. Cut into the flour mixture. Stir in the milk and vanilla. Add the chocolate chips. Once you've mixed this together, sprinkle with enough flour to knead into a soft dough. Press the dough flat with your hands. Cut into pieces or use a cookie cutter. Bake @ 350 degrees for 20 minutes or until the bottoms are golden.

Serve warm, although they are equally delicious cooled.

My First Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 19:35:00 +0000

Some few weeks back, I came across this lovely new website, Mini Book Expo. The website brings together readers and publishers. The publishers offer a few copies of books or authors they want to promote. The readers claim those books, the publishers ship them out, and the reader publishes a review on their blog or website.

Free new books, who could resist? So forthwith, here is my first book review.

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The Phoenix Egg

Author Information: (Taken from the back of the book.)

Richard A Bamberg grew up in a small town in the heart of Alabama during the 60s. He started work as a logger and truck driver, entered the Air Force as a radio operator and did a little duty as a forward air control operator in a small South Asian nation. After graduating from Texas Tech University, he returned to the Air Force as an electrical engineer where he spent most of his time at the Air Force Weapon’s Lab and at the Tactical Air Warfare Center.
He currently lives with life-partner, wife, and best friend – Joy in Huntsville, AL, where he works on the national missile defense system.
His writing leans toward thrillers with a touch of science fiction and horror. The Phoenix Egg is his fourth novel.

Plot Summary:

This is the story of Caitlin Maxwell and John Blalock. She is a tech company owner and he is a security expert. When she is assaulted and finds the police less than helpful, she turns to an old friend, John, for assistance.
Together, they discover who is after her and why they are willing to go to such great lengths to kidnap or kill her. Along the way, they rekindle a former love that lingers all these years later.

Format:

This is a 380-page novel, divided into 28 chapters and an epilogue. Chapter length varies anywhere from 5 to 25 pages each. The narration is third person with the perspective shifting between the two main characters and the occasional secondary player. The ISBN of this book is 1-931468-15-X. It is published by The Invisible College Press, LLC.

Analysis:

The book starts with an attention-getting situation, Caitlin hears her soon-to-be ex-husband die in a car crash while they are on the phone together. The action from this point is fast moving and immediately draws you into the story. Unfortunately, not unlike Caitlin’s husband, the author fails to keep this story on the road.
Much of the next 200 pages, while entertaining, do little to advance the storyline to any great degree. The book is premised on the search for this fabled phoenix egg, a device of some sort that is sought after by no less than three separate governments and at least 2 American governmental agencies. Frustratingly, the author fails to produce this “egg” until the last 50-75 pages of the book. At this point, the revelation is anti-climatic. The denouement fails to produce enough answers. The reader is left wondering just what they are to make of this fabled “egg.” In fact, the author even fails to include a reason to connect this artefact to the phoenix bird of myth and lore.
The failure to produce the phoenix egg of the title until near the end of the book makes what could have been an interesting tale a disappointing read. Further, the reader is left with too many unanswered questions. Whom did her husband get the devices from? Where did the devices come from? These are pivotal questions and should have been addressed.
It would also have made for a better story had there been a better foundation for the relationship between Caitlin and John. Their past encounter hardly seems to point to a lifelong yearning for each other, yet we are expected to believe this is the case. It would have taken only a few more details, one or two more scenes to create the needed believability.
This brings me to a personal pet peeve; proofread the thing before you print it. This is solely on the publishers; it appears they trusted spell check and grammar check to do their proof reading. As you can guess, while the words are spelled correctly, they are not the ones that should have been used. Noisy for nosey, worse where worst was certainly meant. If you are going to the time, effort, and expense of publishing a novel, at least have someone competently proofread it.
This author, any author, who entrusts their work to a publisher should be given the necessary critique of their work to correct any missteps they made with the writing itself, the storyline, character development, or any other aspect of the work. Here, it appears this was somewhat lacking.

Conclusion:

Ultimately, what could have been an interesting and exciting read falls somewhat flat. Although the writer is capable and well able to tell his story, the failure to move the story along and provide answers sooner makes the book frustrating to read. I would love to see this story retold with some judicious editing and a greater emphasis on the “egg” and its provenance. Mr Bamberg, a valiant effort.

My Pleasant Summer Days

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 23:13:00 +0000

A Ray of Light

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Mon, 26 May 2008 22:04:00 +0000

I am looking for the elusive fount of quiet joy that resides in the soul of myself. I know it’s there. Yet I cannot seem to find it.

I realized today that I am going about my search all wrong. No frantic flinging about of the furnishings, or digging in the dusty corners will help. There are signs of its’ existence, but they are easily erased by worry, bitterness, or sorrow. Fear clouds the mind and skitters the emotions, blinding one to any trace of hope.

Moreover, it is clear that my methods to date are having an adverse affect on those I care most deeply for. My unquiet madness is infecting the world around me. That must stop.

So, I will begin again. I will take the time to cease flailing about in desperation. There will be no more screams of frustration. I will find the stillness that presages quiet joy.

It is a seed of hope and will need careful tending. This I will diligently bend my will to and so see it flourish. He who matters most will find a brighter, lighter me each morning.

I may stumble at times, and I may fail when the going is rocky. Yet I am determined to prevail. Life is indeed sweet … but only if I let it be. Thus, in stillness and calm knowing, I will again find the fount of quiet joy within me.

So shall I make of my world a summer’s day sky and lush grassy hills to walk, sunshine to warm us and peace to bless our steps.

A New Direction

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 20:08:00 +0000

For those of you interested in something a little different, I have started a new blog. I am posting some of the stories that I have written over the years.

These stories are in the fantasy genre, swords and sorcery to be exact.

Please feel free to drop over and have a read. You can find me at The Tapestry Chronicles.

Complaints

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 01:16:00 +0000

I am not one to complain. At least, I don’t think I am. Alright, alright. Let’s leave it at ‘I try not to complain’. But there are some days …

Today is one such day. Today, I ache. Every part of me, in places that I didn’t know could ache, and at a pitch that would remind you – could you hear it – of fingernails on a chalkboard.

Just yesterday, I was thinking how I feel a fraud, thinking my fibromyalgia might be a disability. Then I wake up this morning and I know it can be, especially when I consider that there are those who suffer from it much worse than I do.

So bear with me whilst I take this opportunity to complain a wee bit. I hurt. Damn it, I ache and it is not a happy thing. My legs feel like I ran a marathon without any training. The soles of my feet twinge with each step I take. My hands, to be specific the backs of my hands, feel arthritic. My jaw has that “fresh from the dentist – open wide now” hinge ache. There is, would you believe, a spot on the back of my head that truly hurts today.

Oh, and all that doesn’t take into account the mid-grade headache I’ve had since my eyes opened, reluctantly, this fine morning. I feel tired; on the edge of exhaustion. Everything feels like it takes more effort than I have the strength for. Even reading is a strain as my brain struggles to stay focused.

It is a grey dreary day, chilly with a biting wind. Not quite winter, but it sure as hell ain’t spring! A girl could just weep. The snow isn’t melting today. The sun isn’t shining today. The forecast calls for possible snow flurries.

Bah!

Then I snuggle into the crook of Buffalo’s shoulder and feel his arm close round me. I listen to the rumble of his voice and the thump of his heart as I rest my head on his chest. I take a deep breath, ignore the ache that tweaks down my spine as I do so, and know that life is good.

Tomorrow, I might feel a fraud again. Tonight, I have my true love next to me and my aches are mere annoyances.

I have no complaints.

Remembrance

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 22:06:00 +0000

It’s been two years today since my father passed away.

I woke this morning with a feeling of dread, a knot in the pit of my stomach. Then I remembered. Today, two years past, my Dad died and I miss him still, so very much. I always will. There is an emptiness in me that is Dad-shaped and cannot be filled again. That is as it should be, even if it hurts.

My Dad died very suddenly, and very slowly. He suffered a massive stroke and was gone, in a heartbeat, just as he wanted. But he also died a piece at a time, for six long years. I watched; I know how hard he fought to regain his life after the accident. He wasn’t able to win that fight. Instead, each day took a little more of his strength, a small bite of his stamina. It was a death by inches, until finally he couldn’t go on any longer.

Sitting remembering Dad, I realized that I too lost something in those years of watching his struggle. Each day broke a little chip off my heart. Each day added a measure of sorrow. I felt the sadness seep into my bones.

I have said my goodbyes, made my peace with his passing. I do not wish him back, at least not to the life he endured for those last six years. In my heart, I carry his beautiful smile and the memory of his love. I am at peace with it, even while the ache of loss remains.

I am ready to go on. No, it is more than that. I need to go on. Living as we did, under the shadow of Death, has left me pale and wan, spiritually speaking. I need to walk out into sunshine, to feel the light of Life renew my energies. I am ready to embrace life in all its complexities. I crave a regeneration of spirit and soul, one that renews the mind and heals the body. I seek peace and quiet joy, contentment, for I already have love.

I sit back, see again, in my mind’s eye, Dad’s shining smile, and know he would approve.

A Pain in the ...

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 22:50:00 +0000

The brain scan was normal.

That is a good thing, as my baby is wont to say. He gave the verdict a very enthusiastic two thumbs up. I could only agree. The possibility of a tumour or expanding blood vessel had left me a bit shaken at the prognosis. But if it wasn’t either of those causes, it left the question of just what was wrong.

What I knew for certain, the pain I felt throughout the left side of my face was very wrong. Tender trigger points behind my ear, on the top of my head made something usually delightful as eating or a risk, and generally caused an increase in the pain level. On at least one occasion, just washing my hair did result in a trip to the ER for much stronger pain meds.

By now, it is a well-established fact that my body is incompatible with modern medicine. Chemicals are anathema to me, most of them that is. Either they do nothing at all or they cause the most god-awful side effects, allergic reactions known to medical science. If there is a 99.99% chance that a given medicine will be just the ticket, I fall into the 0.01% with truly disastrous side effects. Lucky, lucky me.

That’s what seems to have happened here. I had an infection. The doctor proscribed a gel to deal with it. Then things went slightly off the desired course of treatment. An ingredient in the gel, absorbed into my blood stream, caused the pseudo-trigeminal neuralgia.

Now don’t get me wrong; that is very good news. It really is. I was not at all happy with the diagnosis of trigeminal neuralgia. That’s one bitch of a condition, and it only gets worse over time. But somehow, I still feel a bit irritated with it all.

All this pain has been some of the worst I’ve ever experienced, and that’s saying something. I have fibromyalgia; something always hurts. I have migraines, and they really hurt. This … well, this was a whole new realm of pain. Never before have I even come close to passing out because of pain. Had I not been so determined not to abandon (and purely upset) my baby in a strange city without direction or known destination, I probably would have just slipped into the darkness for a while.

As it is, there is still a lingering sensitivity that I’ve no idea how long it will last. Given the last allergic reaction and the time it took for it to metabolize out of my system, I probably have another week or so to go. I am relieved that the symptoms are abating. I can chew again without inducing purest agony and that is a good thing. But damn it! The cost of curing the infection seems just a bit too high this time round.

The doctor kindly wrote out the name of the gel ingredient he felt triggered the allergy. I have added it to my ever-growing list of “Drugs I Cannot Take.” It is a long list by this time. Heck, it includes whole classes of drugs. I heard my doctor mutter as he added this latest allergy to my chart, “I don’t know what to treat you with anymore.”

This summer, I think I’ll start an herb garden … just in case.

For Real

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Mon, 14 Jan 2008 21:33:00 +0000

“Research Shows Fibromyalgia Pain is Real!” the headline says. As I scan the article, I am reminded of the first doctor to diagnose my fibromyalgia. After he explained what it was I had, he said he had something very important to tell me.

“Listen carefully,” he said. “I want you to remember this. Fibromyalgia is real. It is not something you imagine. It’s not in your head. And there is nothing wrong with you mentally or emotionally. The pains you feel, along with the other symptoms, are as real as this table. You are not crazy and don’t ever let anyone tell you different. And they will try. Even the medical professionals, doctors, nurses, they’ll tell you it’s not real. I want you to ignore them. You know it’s real and I know it’s real. One day, they will know too.”

That day has come, it seems. I wonder how that doctor feels reading this study. Vindicated, I imagine, and relieved … and frustrated, no doubt. If only they had taken this seriously fifteen or twenty years sooner.

My current doctor is still frustrated, and not just with the attitudes toward fibromyalgia. He sees patients regularly that have some very real problems. No one is listening to them, though. Other doctors, specialists, refuse to accept the observations of family practitioners as valid. While I can understand the need for verifiable research, the immediate brush-off given to peoples’ personal experiences strikes me as wrong.

The attitude taken by modern medicine that ‘if it doesn’t bleed, it ain’t real’ needs some serious rethinking. They readily wax eloquent on the complexities of the human body and the vast amounts of what they do not know when they cannot find a ready answer. And when the patient fails to be satisfied as the problem persists or even worsens, they turn it back on the patient.

Lazy, mentally unstable, emotionally disturbed; these are just a few of the things that have been said about, and to me. I was lucky though. I found two doctors who took me seriously, fibromyalgia and all. I am deeply grateful for their belief in something that, at the time, was not thought “real.” Maybe now that there is scientific proof, those who are diagnosed with fibromyalgia will be given the treatment everyone should have received all along.

A Choice

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 18:54:00 +0000

I offer you a choice. Happiness or peace. Which one will make of your life the better experience, which one will see you find true fulfillment.

We are taught from childhood on that happiness is the most desirable state of being. As we grow however, we soon find that happiness is a difficult state to attain. Moreover, it seems to be both elusive and fleeting. When we question this, we are often told it is some fault in us that keeps happiness just beyond our reach. But is this in fact true?

Years ago, I found a poet who had struggled with this very dilemma. “Moments” by Hervey Allen expresses this very conflict. In part he writes, “And once I thought, Quick instances such as these, That my new senses caught, Were promises of vivid days to be …” As a child, you feel those spurts of happiness and the rush is not unlike a good shot of adrenaline. You want that feeling to expand, last, to encompass your days. That doesn’t happen though.

“Those days never come. And now I know, That in this world of ours, Such moments never grow, Into a day – Not even into hours – They are as rare and brief as desert flowers.”

But what of peace? Much is said about it and we are taught it is a desirable state. Yet no one ever really teaches you the depths peace can offer. Consider if you will what true peace of the self and soul might mean.

Peace is not merely a surcease from war or conflict. To know peace, you must also have sufficient means to secure oneself against threat of hunger, loss of hearth and home. Peace entails the knowledge one is accepted as one is and loved, for all of that.

True personal peace stems not merely from a laying down of arms. True peace is found in the easing of physical needs and the satisfaction of emotional ones. In having these needs met, you find the room to breathe, to grow in ways and directions that were previously mere wisps of dreams.

It is from peace and the necessary particulars that make peace possible that you will find happiness. Better still, from such peace there might well grow a deeper personal joy that, unlike happiness, is not momentary. Joy permeates and infuses one’s life. In its quiet way, joy is the expansion of happiness to fill all those moments, days, and hours happiness cannot.

I have thought on this choice for years now. I think I rather choose peace than happiness. It is certainly a harder state to attain but peace offers a greater depth of experience and possibility than simple happiness ever can. To know peace through and through, to feel it to the very depths of one’s self and soul … now there is a goal worthy of the effort.

All Our Tomorrows

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Fri, 03 Aug 2007 20:14:00 +0000

“How long will you love me?’ he asked.

“Always and forever.”

“That long, huh. How long will I love you?”

“Same.”

“That seems like a very long time. Do you know how long forever is?”

“Yes, I do”, she replied, “One second short of not long enough.”

First Steps

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Wed, 01 Aug 2007 02:17:00 +0000

There is a new feeling sifting through me now; a change in the wind that somehow lifts me higher. I breathe easier and my wings catch the freshening breeze. A quickening of spirit and new adventures beckon. There, on the horizon, new vistas await discovery.

Together, my love and I race the wind. Dawn and a world re-imagined.

Now is the moment and we are set free.

It Begins

noreply@blogger.com (Katherine Brown) — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 23:13:00 +0000

It begins, as is its wont, with a melting. A softening gives way to wetness. Suddenly I am alive to the energies and it stirs deep inside me.

Shivers travel the length of my spine as anticipation builds. I seek you out. I reach for you but you are yet distant. Longing curls through me.

I hunger for you. I want the heat of you. The myriad textures and tastes of you. I would drink you with my eyes. The sounds of you would send me into dream space. The scent of you is musky, earthy, and raw.

There is the upthrusting freshness. The moist yielding softness. I tremble as you fill me. Penetrating heat. Lost to the sensations you pour over me, I close my eyes and remember …

Summer.