WRITE YOUR LIFE STORY. JUST SIT AT THE COMPUTER, START TALKING, AND LET YOUR FINGERS FOLLOW ALONG.
Just open your mouth and start talking. You can worry about putting everything in perfect-order...later. Share your happy or troubling childhood, high school memories and events,
life-changing situations like marriages, divorces, births and deaths. I know you have many stories to share with the world....stories that make you stand-out-from-the- crowd. Share your opinions about life, events, people, jobs, neighbors, sex---my
goodness! There are endless subjects that personally involve you. The beauty of your writing is.... no one else can dictate how you write your life story. Only you know the details of your life and exactly what you've lived through.
You start the writing process with blank pages and you-alone supply the subject, the stories, and the words. Don't worry about sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, or editing-in-general until everything
is written. For now..Just write and keep writing, day after day....and continue to write until you have exhausted every memory--until you feel totally-empty of all stories.
my book, I remember asking one important question to my friend, a professional portrait painter: " How do you know when to put the brush down and declare the portrait as finished?" In response, my friend said "you'll just know. There comes a moment
when you look at your project and hear the voice inside that says: "It's Over-- It's Finished."
I recall all those hours, all those days, just typing away, wondering when I'd write the
final page and then, without warning....it happened. Something clicked as I was re-reading a paragraph on the page in front of me and...I realized I was writing the book's ending. When I finished the final sentence....I waited for a second or two
before saving the page... then closing the computer.
At that moment... I felt overwhelmingly exhausted....like I'd just finished running a very-long marathon. I grasped the closed computer
in my arms, leaned over with head down, and began crying and.... I cried for hours. My tears were not the result of grief or sadness or loss. Instead, my tears were relief-tears, tears of love and happines and... they were all for ME! My
tears felt like my applause for finishing a concert in song.
Best of all, I'd shared my story and the writing was over! I'd finished the longest race of my life and...in spite of life-threatening
obstacles...I was the winner!
SO....WHO hasn't read my book: THE BEAUTY QUEEN?!?!? READ IT NOW or...forever-wonder
what you missed.
From the book's Beginning until its End....your mind will experience the Roller Coaster-Ride-of-a-Lifetime....I promise.
How do I know? Because I lived every second of it.
I survived what many call an "impossible" life BUT... I refused to give up or be labeled
a victim. I speak frankly about being sexually abused from childhood, bullied and mocked as a teenager, snubbed as a new bride, even ridiculed, criticized, and disrespected by my family-- my very- own flesh/blood.
As the lone author of my true story, I was able to applaud my successes, my accomplishments, and directly challenge those who dared question my intelligence. AND, NOT ONCE DO I HESITATE to
reveal the antics of those around me...including the ex-husband-from-Hell:
"He (my ex.) had
a thing for secretaries...." "Like past secretary-girlfriends, Jack’s latest didn’t have secretarial training but the way she dressed-----short skirts and tight sweaters---
insured job security.
Remember, it was the sixties and very much a man’s world. Unlike his flat-chested secretary from Southern Federal, Jack’s new personal secretary,
his latest queen-of-typewriters and all-things-long-and-short-hand had two, lively assets. She didn’t have attractive legs and her face was homely but, as the male majority would say, “Who the hell is looking at her face?”
Most intriguing, Our Girl-Friday didn’t shave her legs, underarms, or the curly hairs sprouting around the tip of each asset. Don’t doubt me. The day came when I saw them up-close
and very personal."