A Second Edition. Why?
The rhythm of the keyboard was sporadic. Enthusiasm, mixed with trepidation, made my writing stop-and-go. Hesitation conflicted with a sense of urgency.
Why am I doing this?
It was a challenging time. The world was just coming out of COVID-19. I had just written my first book during that dark time—finding light in writing. As an artist, designing with words became a new art form for me.
Oddly enough, a green velvet chair, of all things, inspired me. Memories of my mother reupholstering a rickety old chair in luxurious velvet, my creative childhood, and even my graphic design career, percolated inside me. This brought joy, anxiety, and sometimes sadness. But each memory exposed an emotion that I needed to explore.
Encouraged by my oral storytelling classmates, I accumulated a series of essays highlighting how inspiration often came from the most unlikely places. As a quiet sort of person, sharing my writing with this group and having them validate my storytelling ability was invigorating. I could make them laugh and I could make them cry. This made me believe that I had found my calling and launched my book.
Within hours of the launch, the e-pub was number 21 on Amazon—right behind Matthew McConaughey’s book, Greenlights.
I was thrilled.
However, while I found light in writing, sold some advance copies, and created a social media campaign, good news was followed by bad.
“You have breast cancer.”
Okay. Perhaps not a great time to market my book—but I guess things turn out the way they are supposed to.
My initial plan was to quietly fly under the radar. No one would know except my family. It was early stage. Surgery and radiation were the treatment plan, and I was going to be okay. Many others had gone through this challenge, and so could I.
But things quickly changed when I received the devastating news that I would require chemotherapy as well. This altered my game plan. Sickness would come, and then hair loss.
For those who knew me, my head of hair was, quite frankly, my MO. People used to say, “Your hair entered the room before you did.” I always felt blessed to have gotten the lush, thick hair gene—a trait I had no control over but felt fortunate to have inherited. Without hair, it would be obvious that I was sick. I was running my own company—there was no downtime. I had to push through and move forward. So, with the support of Literary Midwife Kathy Sparrow and my trusted confidants, I launched a new social media campaign to talk about this challenging cancer journey—all while promoting myself as a new author.
Some people thought it was odd that I would go public with the news. Was I desperate for attention? What was I hoping to gain by sharing such personal stuff? One person even commented, “Well, you sure opened the kimono, didn’t you?”
This was not about seeking attention or trying to garner pity—it was quite frankly the opposite. I had coined the phrase “Badass Ballerini’ in one of my chapters, and by God, I was going to unleash my inner badass on this ominous disease. Cancer was not going to stop me.
However, after the diagnosis, there was no physical book launch, no party, no celebration of achieving such a momentous goal. Did you know that according to stats, while 81% say they want to write a book, only 3% of people actually do. I was proud of this accomplishment and continued to move forward with stubborn tenacity, but I didn’t take time to celebrate.
Since then, my new motto has become “Don’t delay joy.”
I forged ahead with online promos, blog posts, and social media, but as time went on, my energy and self-confidence were depleted. I ceased to promote my book as I healed from treatments that ultimately knocked me down—no matter how strong my initial resolve was. As with everything in life, there are ebbs and flow to our very being. Sometimes, we have to surrender, reassess, and eventually press on.
During this transition, Kathy encouraged me to breathe new life into my book—a book she praised as a strong piece of literary work. Her encouragement came at times when my self-doubt and anxiety were at its highest. Nonetheless, her suggestion rekindled a desire to move forward again as an author.
Once again, I dug deep to find my “quietly fierce” disposition. After working through a dreary time of grieving, and probably PTSD, I started to gravitate towards a second edition of The Green Velvet Chair. In time I wrote a new Preface, an Epilogue to announce a new project, and three new chapters about inspirational story moments over the last few years. I’m Sew in Love with Barbie, A Day at the Museum, and Designer Genes are new chapters included in the second edition.
These are stories that bring me joy and remind me…
Sometimes inspiration comes from the most unlikely places. And sometimes that place is illness, loss, and grief. Writing shone cathartic light into my soul. It helped me regain a richer perspective of life, art, and all things that move the human spirit within.
This is me. This is my second edition.
