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Saturday, February 2, 2013

Should I, Or Shouldn't I?

Skiing White Face Mountain

It is a long time since I stopped by BookOrBust to blog a post.

It is a long time since I snapped a photo, downloaded it from camera to computer, uploaded it to favorite blog, BookOrBust, and saying where I snapped my photo, or when it was taken.

The reason for my absence is (multiple choice):

(a) I have been busy sailing private island of Johnny Depp with Johnny Depp in Johnny Depp's private sailboat.

(b) I have been busy shopping with Michele Obama looking for the perfect dress for the inaugural ball.

(c) I have been busy rehearsing lip-syncing my country's National Anthem, or

(d) None of the above.

And the answer is: (d).

It is amazing what this writer will do to avoid writing--I can honestly say that I have been to the mountain, and I skied it.

Which brings me to now.

After chronicling my writing journey, I figure my next step is chronicling my publishing efforts.

When submitting work to an agent or editor for consideration, a writer must present his first five pages.

Today I post page one:

 (taken from "A Gift of Love, A Widow's Memoir, by Linda Della Donna, (c) 2011, All Rights Reserved)

            On May 1, 2004 I sat in my kitchen and gazed out a window. In the distance, beyond a flowering plum, over coal-colored rooftops, and the hills and dales of a small suburb where I lived in Westchester County, New York, I could see the early morning sun rising brightly in a cloudless sky. The only sounds were those of the breath in my nose, the laughter of two passersby dressed in shorts, the clip-clip-clapping of their sneakers on pavement, and an inner whispering voice repeating over and over, I promise. For a long time after the couple had faded from view, I stared blankly at a yellow-eyed grackle strutting about the front yard pecking dirt and wondering how I would ever be able to fulfill my promise. It was my 16th wedding anniversary, and my husband was dead.
            Together to the end, when Edward Louis Sclier breathed his last breath, I was by his side, and my promise whispered in his ear was the last sound he heard.
“I’ll write your story,” I said. “I promise,” I said. “I will let the whole world know just what you went through.”
I said it. I meant it.
His dying words, “Somebody should,” haunt me.
            Through the years, I have tried, without success, to get down on paper the personal story of an ordinary man who loved an ordinary woman in an extra ordinary way. I confess I cannot get Ed Sclier’s story down on paper. I just cannot do it, and do it justice. I doubt I ever could. This book is more about me. It describes my grief journey, highlights the great man I fell in love with and married; the love we shared, and the woman I have become since my soul mate died. In describing certain events, I am brutally honest, and I know I face a tsunami of criticism for conveying feelings felt at a time when my life turned suddenly upside down. I understand that cancer is a serious illness. Please know that all opinions expressed here in my book regarding cancer and the treatment of it, are my own. I know that in some cases, cancer is life threatening, and I understand there are a lot of treatment options available that have been proven to be successful. Therefore, in no way should my personal opinions contained in this book be taken as advice or direction in any cancer patient’s personal treatment decisions. But, perhaps, just perhaps, there is one widow out there reading my words, feeling as I felt. If so, and my words reach you, dear one reader, then that justifies and validates both of us. For me, it is one goal met and one promise fulfilled. As every widow learns, in order to heal and help fill the void after the death of a spouse, it is necessary, and important, she give something back. That said, let the Universe know, I offer this book up to Edward Louis Sclier in loving post-script--Accept this book as token of my sincere love and gratitude for all the respect, love, devotion, companionship, support, hope and confidence, which you gave me, during and after our marriage. And please, mark me paid in full.
            My name is Linda Della Donna. This is my story.

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