The site is colorful, the Phoenix’s ribbons of flames are mystical and the links are user friendly. Look around, it’s still a work in progress as I’m adding more information for readers and authors. So if you don’t see your link email me and I’ll add it. There was one major hiccup, a hacker. A Facebook friend saw it first and emailed me. Panicked, I emailed Emily and it was resolved as I was warning my multiple groups not to click on my site.

The second event is more personal and life altering. Last year, 2009, I had two major surgeries. The first was elective. I play tennis, have arthritis and needed left knee replacement surgery. The surgery went well and I was up and around; well on my way to a full recovery, looking forward to walking without pain and playing tennis in the fall. However, it seems fate had something else in store. Labor Day, I experienced severe abdominal pains that resulted in my lying on my bathroom floor, screaming – alone. Well my trusted beagle was by my side, but she couldn’t do much except stare. My husband had driven our son to DePaul University. I called him; he hurried home and I was more than eager to go to the hospital. Paramedics took me and I figured it was my appendix. By early morning, after several tests, I was prepped for surgery. My surgeon said there was an unidentified mass in my abdomen. I began to think, ‘What if I don’t survive?’ My husband looked worried, something I have rarely seen in our twenty-seven years together. I thought about my son and my daughter, of friends I’d leave behind; stories I hadn’t completed and rejections I’d never receive. Strangely I thought about being reunited with my deceased parents.

When I did wake in recovery I found two nurses working over me and a huge open incision down the middle of my abdomen. Drugs are wonderful, when prescribed, I went back to sleep and the next time I woke, I was in a hospital room with tubes coming out of every orifice, and one created by my surgeon. Needless to say it wasn’t my appendix, but Doctor Johnson removed it anyway.

I had acute diverticulitis, a severe infection in my large intestine. There was a significant amount of inflammation in my colon and called for a bowel resection. I’ll spare you the details, lets just say six months later I required a second surgery for bowel reconnection. I have a deep respect and admiration for individuals who have to live day to day for the rest of their lives with what I only had to endure for a short period time. They have full active lives and no one has a clue as to their health issue.

I spent a week in the hospital the first go round and almost went to ICU because my blood pressure refused to respond to the different medications. I was completely incapacitated. I don’t like not being in control of my body and I don’t like being scared. There was only one thing I could do, relax, watch the second week of The US Open, allow my body to heal, and accept my doctor’s prescribed treatment. I’m not a very good patient. Once home at my first office visit with Dr. Johnson I asked specific questions, beginning with ‘What did you do to me?’ Thankfully my husband was along to ‘ah diffuse’ my direct questions. Dr. Johnson handled my attitude very wel. I’m not sure he looked forward to my followup visits.

I was anxious to have the second surgery and six months later, all my plumbing was reconnected with no problems. I was tempted to put a smiley face post-it note on my belly pre-op , just for laughs. Hubby didn’t think it was a good idea, Dr. Johnson saw the humor and said it would have been fine. Recovery this time around proved to be a bitch. After eleven days, blood transfusions and the insertion of a pic-line because they couldn’t find a vein, I went home and crawled into bed and in a deep depression. Instead of fighting it, I wallowed in it. I laid in bed, couldn’t eat, food had no taste and I gagged when I took small bites. I couldn’t even drink half a cup of Starbucks. My behavior worried my husband and basically I didn’t care. I balled up into a fetal position and let the days and nights pass. I didn’t watch tv, tv watched me. My faithful beagle remained by my bedside and even when my home care nurses tried to cheer me up I remained unresponsive. My daughter called every day from Atlanta. My son came home from college on weekends. My husband, who should have been at his office, worked from our kitchen table. I. Didn’t. Care. What no one including me could understand was how I bounced back so easily from the first surgery and not the second when everything had gone well. My good friend, Nellie, understood and left me alone, not like after the first surgery when she called and added me to her Sunday prayer circle. I did appreciate her themed get well cards, dogs. Nellie is scared of dogs so that was about as close as she was going to get to the little four legged creatures. Laurie text me on a regular basis, encouraging me to get up. Good thing she couldn’t see me roll my eyes at her.

Sometimes it’s good to just allow yourself to go blank. And I’m not recommending my solution for those who suffer serious medically diagnosed depression. The fourth week a nudge of clarity poked me. I spent more time out of bed. The taste of food returned. Bitter first I went through a jar of kosher dill pickles. I lost over twenty pounds bedridden and have found ten of them again. The sun seemed brighter, my mood improved and finally I found myself back in my writing space. Not really doing much, checking emails, reconnecting with friends, Internet shopping. My energy picked up, I drove my car. I put on makeup. I played tennis. I GOT MY HAIR WASHED!!!

Then like the bird that is my Muse, I, Phoenix, rose from the ashes and returned to my world. Just in time to attend my Chicago North RWA conference. I was nervous, but it soon disappeared. I was among friends who missed me and I’d missed them. I volunteered, attended fantastic workshops, drank a beer, and got a request for a full copy of my manuscript. I was ‘whole’ again, but the difference this time was a real eye opener. I’d come to the edge of a cliff, peaked over and realized you can’t just put off until tomorrow something you want today. With good health, a better grip on Weight Watchers, and an appreciation for all those who had my back, I’ve challenged myself to attain my goals. Write, be rejected, be published, be prolific. To write, polish, edit and submit the stories that shout in my head, characters that want to tell me explain their motivation, create plots that are imaginative, colored with a dose of reality and delve into the question: Would you commit a bad act for a good reason? My tag line is ‘Where good and evil can turn on a dime’.

Yasmine Galenorn once wrote a blog about her near death experience when no one was around. She’s a fantastic author. Her incident was a wake up call for her also. Now look how she’s succeeded. Success is not a one time thing. It’s an every day work in progress.

If you want something you have to work not one hundred percent, but two hundred percent. Find the time to write, even if it’s twenty minutes while sitting on the toilet, because that’s the only quiet place, or 2am in the morning when your eyes are so heavy with sleep they feel like weights, but your Muse is saying ‘One more word, just another sentence, add that paragraph, your villain needs your input, sleep is overrated’.

I’d said 2010 was the year of hard work, I thought I meant hard work as in writing. What it’s turning out to be is the year of the hard work of learning myself all over again.

This Phoenix is back. Next week – How Weight Watchers ten points can be used for writing. Until then enjoy my new site (I love the links page) and above all – write.

2. Leap, and the net will appear. – Julie Cameron

3. You are unique. Just like everyone else. – Anonymous

4. You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you’ve collected a lot of empty yesterdays. – Harold Hill

MORE FROM MOLLY HERWOOD

1. Great works are performed not by strength, but perserverance. – Samuel Johnson

2. Let me tell you the secret that has led me to my goal. My strength lies solely in my tenacity. – Louis Pasteur

3. Never give up and never give in. – Hubert H. Humphrey

4. A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows. – St. Francis of Assisi

5. Don’t make excuses — make good. – Elbert Hubbard

6. The secret of success is constancy to purpose. – Benjamin Disraeli

If you have any favorite inspirational sayings and would like to share, please do so.

If you have inspirational sayings that help you get through the writing life, send them to me. I’ll post them, not only this week, but any time.

From Molly:

1. “Don’t be afraid to give your best to what seemingly are small jobs. Every time you conquer one it makes you that much stronger. If you do the little jobs well, the big ones will tend to take care of themselves.” – Dale Carnegie

2. “Greatness is but many small littles.” – Latin Proverb

3. “It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time.” – Sir Winston Churchill

4. “Always aim for achievement and forget about success.” – Helen Hayes

5. “There is no such thing as a great talent without great willpower.” – Honore de Balzac
and
6. “It matters if you don’t just give up.” – Stephen Hawking

From Me:

1. “One man has enthusiasm for 30 minutes, another for 30 days, but it is the man who has it for 30 years who makes a success of his life.” – Edward B. Butler

2. “Remember, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.” – Dale Carnegie

3. “It takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are.” – E. E. Aimmings

I pick them hoping to give you motivation to write, make you think, and maybe make you laugh.

1. Always remember, perservance is as important as talent. – Dean Koontz

2. You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through. – Rosalynn Carter

3. You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf. – Unknown.

1. Proscrastination is the fear of success. People proscrastinate because they’re afraid of the success they know will result if they move ahead now because success is heavy. It carries a responsibility with it. It’s just so much easier to proscrastinate and live on the “Someday I’ll …” philosophy. – Denis Waitley

2. Never pick a fight with a man who has the words “Born To Die” tattooed on his forehead.” – Dean Koontz

3. Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm. – Winston Churchill

As I was saying, next week I’m going to post every day three inspirational sayings to help you get into the determination zone for writing.

But for today, I’ll leave you with one to get us started.

“Proscrastination is the fear of success. People procrastinate because they’re afraid of the success they know will result if they move ahead now because success is heavy. It carries a responsibility with it. It’s just so much easier to procrastinate and live on the “Some day I’ll …” philosophy.” – Dennis Waitley.

Have a great weekend.

So to all my fellow writers, tennis players, and friends stay tuned. I’m coming out swinging!

Twas the night before Christmas and all through my house,
Every creature was stirring, including my computer mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney in disaray
Cause there weren’t nothing in them, so what the hey
My 22 year old had slept in her bed all day,
While visions of night time juking danced in her head
Now she and her AKA sisters have primped and prepped,
Cause by eleven pm sister girls, out they will step,
They all look so hot and want to have to have a good time,
Make some unsuspecting brothers spend their last dime.
Our son was grooving watching Adult Swim in his room,
Venturing out only for food and the bathroom.
He’s only fifteen and girls give him the frights,
And for this Mommy, that’s alright.
One day too soon, he’ll discover the opposite sex,
Making Mommy reach for a shot gun, shovel and Kleenex.
Hubby is snoring in the Lazy Boy, holding tight the remote,
Poor me, on this I’ve got no vote.
I’ll wait till he’s sleep, from his fingers I’ll pry it,
Then set reminders to pop up every hour, he’ll have a fit.
I’d just fallen asleep when I heard a great noise,
For a moment I thought it might be some hot boys.
So, I hobbled from my bed and peaked out the window,
Couldn’t see anything, no really couldn’t see anything – no glasses, but it was twenty below.
I stepped over our guard dog (yeah right a beagle) down to the first floor,
Wondering if the noise came from a window or door.
I heard some tapping up on the roof,
“Oh crap,” I said, “I don’t think the roof’s holeproof.”
Then suddenly the fireplace grew bright,
And I thought maybe ET’s stopping by for a bite.
Then black boots, red pants shimmed down the flue,
I didn’t know what to do.
Should I start a fire and burn him up?
Or get out the champagne and offered him a cup?
I braved the outside, since no one would wake up,
I stared at the roof, wishing I had backup.
Then I caught sight of a brand new red convertible Mustang,
All I could say was “Dang.”
Filled with bags, the strap of a Louis Vuitton handing out one side,
I yelled, “Oh Baby come on inside!”
I hurried back into the house, stood by the fireplace clapping with glee,
That jolly old man had brought me some LV!
He made it down the chimmey, tossed his bag on the floor, took a deep breathe and said,
“Woman, those bags are heavy.”
I eyed the LV bags all for me, smiled my best smile and said, “Oh Santa, don’t be so funny.”
He shuffled the bags and unloaded all the loot,
For my family what a hoot.
But, just as I went to touch a bag, my hand he gave a sharp wack!
“Not so fast,” he said, “Ms Smartaleck.”
“Have you finished line editing your book?”
He gave me a harsh look.
I bowed my head and shook it no.
He said, “To your desk, now go.”
“But it’s late”, I begged.
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that damn proscrasination line from Sloane.” He smirked.
Boy, Santa was becoming a jerk!
“I’ll take the Vuitton back, the Mustang too.
If you don’t do what you’re supposed to.”
“Oh no Santa, not the LV and my brand new ride!”
“I’ll write, I’ll edit, I’ll submit, just don’t take away my bribes!”
He paused for a moment, I was scared
I was going to have to beat Santa and hide his carass under my bed.
Then he leaned back and laughed so loud,
I thought he’d wake hubby – Not!
“Girlfriend, make me proud.”
“Success awaits you, now say it loud.”
“I’m black and I’m proud! Oops, my bad.”
I raised up my hand and said, “I got it Santa. I know what you’re saying.”
“Sit my ass in that chair and keep writing.”
“I’ve got potential, I’ve got promise, I’ve got stories to tell.”
“Millions of books to sell.”
He said, “Now, you’ve got it.” He reached down in his bag and said, “I’ve got one more thing to
make you happy.”
“Your own personal tv remote. It won’t work for anyone else, not even your hubby.”
Now I was feeling rather froggy and bubbly.
So with a short salute and a tap on my hubby’s head,
He waddled to the front door, outside sat a bobsled.
On top of a black Hummer.
As he gunned the motor, I said, “What a bummer.”
Those big rim spinners,
Just kept him grinning.
He roared around my block, turned the sound system way up loud,
My daughter and her friends would have been proud.
I could have sworn I heard him yell, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”
But the bass was so loud all I saw was headlights.
So I’ll say it for Santa, my vixens and friends,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

We like each other, there have been very few arguments among us. It’s not allowed. No back biting. We’re particular who wants to join our group of 14. Must be able to get along with other women, must be willing to promote team first, must be able to listen (still working on that one ladies), must be willing to play with others, must be willing to practice and practice hard, and must be willing to shop. Our tennis pro, John drives us and he also is my sons’ tennis instructor. I treasure these women, their friendship. Each one is unique, different. We are an integrated group and proud of it. So many of the other clubs we play at can’t say that. We are protective of each other and listen to the opinions of our group. Tennis is more than an exercise. It can be a life long sport activity and you can build friendships that last a life time. Tennis for me is a way to relieve stress, get my aggressions out and return to writing after my body’s recovered. It is mental and physical exercise, and in my paranormal series, one of the main characters is a tennis player.

Watch a major tournament, the Australian Open comes up in January. Check out the legs on the men players. Check out how their firm, taut muscles gleam with sweat. Check out their facial expressions of passion when they win a point. Check out, how one minute they’re full of rage and the next crying because they’ve won the match. Talk about Alpha males all over the place. Think about it, if Andre Aggassi at his age chase down balls for four hours, is it any wonder he and Stefi have two children?