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My Mother

March 5, 2008 by in category Archives

By Diane Pershing

Two and a half weeks ago, my mother was dying. We were together in her hospital room, where she was coughing and feverish, a ninety-year-old with severe pneumonia and a high temperature. We all know what happens to someone with that set of problems, right? We both had tears in our eyes. Hands shaking, she removed a beautiful square cut diamond ring from her hand and gave it to me. “It was my mother’s ring,” she said, her voice croaking with inflammation and exhaustion. “I want you to have it.”

I didn’t argue-first of all, it was a dying woman’s wish. Secondly, it’s beautiful and I’ve never had a diamond ring in my life. I took it, put it on the ring finger of my right hand (so no one would think that Ken had finally popped the question), and it was done. Together, we looked at how it sparkled and shared a moment that both of us sensed was one of the last.

Cut to: A week later. While the pneumonia was still pretty bad, her fever was down, her white blood cell count was down, and it seemed she wasn’t going to die after all. I looked at the ring, looked at her and said with mock distress, “Ma, do I have to give it back now?”

She tilted her head to one side, enjoying the face I made, and said, “Nah. It’s yours anyway. Keep it.”

And I have. It’s here, sparkling still on my hand.

At present, Mom is out of the hospital and in a convalescent facility. She is still ninety and is weak and frail, but she coughs less, sits up more, walks a little with the aid of her walker. She is oh-so-slowly getting better.

As for me, I am a wreck. Caring for an elderly woman one loves unconditionally is not for weaklings. There is the necessity to be with her for hours and hours, because she needs reassurance and love and comfort, not to mention attention she does not get from nurses who are overworked and overstressed. There is her mail, her phone, her home, her bills. Running around getting the bedside table, contacting doctors and getting her meds right, and buying books light enough for her to hold but with large enough and dark enough print to read, Depends, looking for her favorite chocolate because she eats practically nothing at meals, making phone calls to be sure her care is attended to. This is not me whining, this is me stating a fact: I am past middle age and caring for an elderly parent and I am not an uncommon statistic. With the help of modern medicine, they’re living longer and we’re in charge. Fact, indisputable fact.

What does this have to with the blog offered by a writer of romances? A lot. Ask me where I am on the book I was deeply involved with two and a half weeks ago. The answer is: not any further along. I cannot write, I cannot concentrate, I cannot sit still and stare off into space and find the right phrase, the right image, for the scene I am creating. I CANNOT WRITE.

I think about the perfect writer I have in my head—the one who can compartmentalize, who creates to escape, who, in face, finds solace and peace by writing . . . and it’s not me. Mom is in my head, not my book. The next chore to take care of for mom is all I can really think about. Plus getting enough sleep, eating properly, avoiding getting sick myself. Exercise? Fuggedaboudit. Life is about mom. For now. For the near future.

Because there will be a future without her in it. I want to enjoy the time the two of us have left, lap it up like a cat with a saucer of milk. She gave me life and loved me until I could exist apart from her. I salute my mother, and the book will have to wait.

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Diane Pershing wears many hats. She is a multi-published award-winning romance novelist, voice-over actress for commercials and animation, and the President-Elect of Romance Writers of America. Her latest Silhouette Romantic Suspense, ONE TOUGH AVENGER, third in a trilogy, was released January 2008.

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President’s Message

March 5, 2008 by in category Archives tagged as

For the March 2008 President’s Message, please click here

Thank you,
Sue Phillips
OCCRWA President

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Wishing for just one more day?

February 29, 2008 by in category Archives tagged as


Haven’t we all wished for more time? This year we’re lucky, it happens to be a Leap Year and theoretically we all have one more day.

What would you do with one extra day? Would you squander it in your pajamas eating junk food watching a Mike Rowe marathon on the Discovery Channel? Would you use it at the office to catch up on filing? Or would you do something you always wanted to do but never had time for?

My friend Susanne, a leap year baby, is wildly enthusiastic about turning 10 years old today. I’ve known her for 11 years and she’s been married for 17.

Speaking of marriage, it’s also Sadie Hawkins Day — the day when it is acceptable to propose marriage according to a tradition started in 5th century Ireland. St. Bridget convinced St. Patrick to allow women to propose on this very day. If the man refused, he was fined either money or a gown. (By the way, St. Bridget proposed to St. Patrick that day; he said no).

For the majority of us, February 29th is simply an extra day we have to work. Even so, February 29th gives us one more day to dream, to laugh, and have just a little more time with the ones we love.

What are you doing with your one extra day?

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A Fantasy Life – Part 6

February 29, 2008 by in category Archives

Religion. Every society has some kind of beliefs. Those beliefs fall into two categories: monotheistic and polytheistic. When developing a world, you have to decide which way to go. When I write historicals, it is no problem. The Irish Countess was Catholic. After all she was Irish. In The Kilted Governess, they were Protestants. In Augeas, it’s still up for grabs.

After consulting my plot group, my youngest son, and my critique partner, Debra, I came up with a few ideas. The Ancient Ones and the humans would probably not have the same religion since they are different species that developed at different times. The Ancient Ones, when they die, turn into light and disappear. That came about because my sister told me I couldn’t leave Grandmother dead in the rocking chair on the porch. She had to be buried, but, geez, that’s a lot of work for one person. I didn’t like the thought of Rayna dragging Grandmother through the dirt, digging a hole and putting her in. It all seemed rather undignified. So, I had her turn to light and poof, no body to bury. It’s amazing what one can set up by accident.

If the Ancient Ones turn into light, then they must want to reach the light at the end of their journey through life. So they have a philosophy more than a religion. They follow the Path of Enlightenment and at the end, they join the light and become whole with those who went before them.

As with any religion or philosophy, there has to be the evil side. (My son threatened me if I said the Dark Side.) There is always good vs. evil. So what happens if they fall from the Path of Enlightenment? There has to be a penalty. They don’t get to join the light. Then someone has to bury them. Hopefully someone strong enough so they won’t be dragged through the dirt.

The humans? I still don’t know what they believe in. They have a polytheistic religion, but no one is on a religious quest at the moment, so I have more time to figure it out.

Above is a picture of Andra from the second set of Augeas stories arriving in April.

Art work by Jasmine Tanner – http://veildandy.deviantart.com

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What Inspires You

February 26, 2008 by in category Archives tagged as

Life Lessons Are Ever Present

by Lori Pyne

As we walked across the parking lot towards the playing field, I warned my son to stay on the playground while his father and I joined the other parents to prepare the baseball fields for the coming season. With a quick agreement, he dashed towards the basketball court.

As I passed the group of boys my son had joined, I heard one of the boys say, “He’s in special ed.” The four small boys stepped away from my son. Rage filled my body. I stopped and stared at the tormentors. How could those brats be unkind to my sweet child? Having suffered at the hand of many school yard bullies, I was ready to battle for my son.

My son then tossed his miniature basketball towards the hoop. It missed and he chased after it. The boys stood and watched my son have a blast trying to make a basket. The older boys playing on the other court swept close and my son raced after them.

As my son did not seem concerned with the smaller boys’ refusal to play, I continued to slowly walk towards my husband. I quickly relayed the overheard comment to my husband.

My husband watched our son dash over to the slides and then turned his attention to the basketball court. Although he had been at the school for a number of lunch supervisory hours, my husband did not recognized the small boys either.

For the next hour I shifted my attention from the job at hand, keeping an eye on my son and watching the small boys. I was determined to talk to their parents. Despite my best efforts, the boys left before I identified their parents.

As I left the playground with a slow simmer cooking my temper, my son’s happiness penetrated my anger. My son had not allow the boys’ behavior ruin his enjoyment. Although I would have still liked to talk to their parents, I could control my reaction to other’s behavior.

Life lesson are everywhere. Some are gentle and quiet; and some are loud and hard to miss. The trick is to be willing to listen.

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Lori Pyne is a member of OCC, and a multi-tasking volunteer. She is currently serving as one of our Online Class Moderators, Guest Reception Coordinator and Coordinator for the Book Buyers’ Best Contest for published authors. She is married with one son, and works full time for an entertainment law firm.

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