Sunday, November 13, 2011
Another Indie Chick whose personal story just about breaks your heart, yet inspires, most of all. Please welcome Heather Marie Adkins.
Latchkey Kid by Heather Marie Adkins
It isn’t easy being the daughter of a police officer, but it’s even more difficult to be the daughter of a female police officer. I would come to understand this early, and often, in my life.
My mom’s career has always been the whirling force of my existence.
She was sworn into the Louisville Police Department on September 10, 1990. I was five years old. For the majority of my developmental years, I bounced through a succession of caretakers—my grandmother, my father and stepmother, and a kind woman I called ‘Mama Lo’—while my mom was forging her way through her early years as a rookie officer.
I remember late nights—my mom in her uniform, her gun belt digging into my side as she bundled me into a blanket to carry me to the car. I remember mornings getting on the school bus, knowing Mom would be coming home from work just in time for me to leave. But when I remember these things, they are snippets: Only bits and pieces of the woman who is my mother. Her job was demanding and sometimes, you just have to sacrifice to make your dreams come true.
When I was ten, Mom aced the Detective test and was granted her first promotion. Suddenly, we were buying a new house in a nice neighborhood. I was in middle school, which was awkward enough, and Mom began working 4 pm to midnight.
Thus began my time as a Latchkey Kid.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
It was happenstance (LOVE that word!) that I met up with Cheryl Shireman, a few months ago. It was one of those social media encounters via this very blog. And then, we had a lovely Facebook chat about writing. Cheryl is light years ahead of me with her successful publishing of her novels, but her story was so encouraging to my own writing endeavors. I was even more surprised when she asked me if I would be interested in participating in this anthology idea where she would be featuring 25 independent women writers (aka Indie Chicks) and I said, absolutely. Little did I know what the project would entail and how many amazing writers would participate, including a foreword written by Karen McQuestion and excerpts from amazing writers such as Melissa Foster, Lizzy Ford, Mel Comley, Linda Welch and so many more. I admit I felt a little out of my league and in awe of these extraordinary writers, but I persevered because of the response I've been getting from my readers about Seeing Julia and Not To Us. And, if reading the personal stories and excerpts of 25 up and coming independent women authors isn't enough, the proceeds from this anthology go toward the Susan G. Komen Foundation For The Cure for breast cancer research.
So, what's not to love? In light of that, we're promoting the anthology by sharing each of author's personal journey of self discovery over the next few months. I know! It's right up my alley!
Here's Cheryl Shireman's guest post about her personal journey with this anthology.
Is Your Life Whispering to You?
By Cheryl Shireman
I believe life whispers to you and provides direction. I call that life force God. You can call it whatever you want, but there is no escaping it. If we are open, and brave enough to say yes, life will take us in directions we never expected, and you will live a life beyond your wildest dreams.
Those whisperings often come in the form of a “crazy” idea or a nudge to move into a certain direction that seems odd or silly or daring. Then there is that moment when you think, Well, that’s weird. Where in the world did that come from?
And then there’s the second moment, when you have to make a choice. You can dismiss the crazy notion, and probably even come up with a dozen reasons why it’s a bad idea. You don’t have the time, the money, or the resources. Besides, who are you to do such a thing? What in the world were you thinking? So, you dismiss the idea. We always have that option - to say No.
But it comes back - that whisper. Sometimes again and again. But if we are practical, and safe, we can squash the notion until it is almost forgotten. Almost.