As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"

Another WIP Update

Don't you hate it when an author and blogger (in this case, me) hides in their writing cave for weeks without out a sound?
My apologizes. But I don't promise it will never happen again. (I've been fighting with Blogger you know.) Blogger has won but I think I've figured it out. Don't hold your breath.
Some of you have watched me share tidbits of what I'm working on over at Facebook and it dawned on me that I re3ally should share here as well. So recently I've been tagged to share the last paragraph that I've completed in my WIP. Tough in my situation as I'm cutting, pasting and rewriting to back it stronger, bigger faster than it was before…oh wait, that might have been the Six Million Dollar Man.
Joking aside, here are a couple of paragraphs from Porsche's Prologue, book one in the Arbon Trilogy.

"I remember a horse squealing, you know that shrill scream between a whinny and a stallion's whistling call?  It made my hair stand on end. It still does. I found out later it was Buckle. She had step on a hollow lava bomb, she must have busted through and broken her leg," her voice hitched.
"I was lucky she couldn't break free. She probably would have trampled me. I couldn't move. I tried to, until I saw the snakes. Hundreds of them slithering and coiling to rattle. I couldn't move then and I knew. I knew they were going to get me." She stared at the ground several feet away as if the snakes were there and yet her tone remained calm, her expression vacant. "I don't know why they didn't bite me. They should have. I should have been bitten a hundred times or more, but I wasn't."
Before you stone me, this is the manuscript with the flying or is it dancing(?) goat.
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