As I check the stats on my blog each day I realize that while I have no idea who is reading these posts daily, the fact is that they in turn may not know that much about me either.  And I couldn't think of a more fun way to bridge the gap between reader and writer than to list 10 random facts about myself that should make me more human in the eyes of my audience. 

1. I am the world's pickest eater.  Anything that contains cheese,
   butter, ketchup, or mayo will make me run in the other
    direction.  Ice cream on the other hand is my weakness.
2. Someday I dream of going horseback riding along a secluded
     trail with my best friend of 33 years.
3. While in high school I served as editor for my high school
     yearbook and particpated in the drama club.
4. Martha Stewart I am NOT !  I do not claim to have any domestic
    skills what so ever and I am completely content with this fact.
5. I took paino lessons for 3 years and I can't play any better today than I did on the day I started.
6. When it comes to bargain shopping, look out!  I am always on the prowl for a good deal and ready to brag about it at a moments notice.
7. There are days when my OCD gets the better of me.
8. I suffer dearly from having the middle child syndrome.
9. HIdden in the back of my closet are all of my old cassette tapes, 45's and albums that I listened to endlessly as a teenager.
10. I have no desire to go skiiing, watch more depressing stories on the news or try the latest diet fad.

And just because I like you so much for reading my blog I will give a bonus fact: 

BONUS: I change the spelling of my name almost daily.  Yes, today it is Amy, but watch closely and tomorrow it may be Aimee and you will think that you were the one who has been
                                                                                      spelling it wrong all along!


Now that you know a little about me, I invite you to leave a comment and tell me one thing about you.  What makes you tick?  Your funniest moment or your biggest pet peeve.  I promise to comment back for each response I get.

~Amy  (A.K.A.  ~Aimee)

As part of the reading requirements during the school year, my daughter's class read the book Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. Intrigued to see what all the hub bub was about, I picked it up for myself when I was at the Oswego Bookmobile last week.  Set in Syracuse, New York, the storyline follows a freshman girl as she struggles to cope with the trauma of being raped at a party by a classmate.  The title is a conundrum for what the main character Melinda did not do after the attack.  She hid inside her shell and chose to become a selected mute rather than tell anyone what had happened to her that summer night.  Thinking that it was her fault and that nobody would believe her anyways, silence became her only escape.

But the past always has a way of catching up with you and when Melinda saw that her ex best friend had started to date her abuser, she knew that she had to speak up in an effort to save another girl from going through the torture that she had endured.  To Melinda's surprise, once she opened up about her past she found that she was not the only girl who knew that this guy was a creep.  No longer alone, Melinda was finally able to take back her life and begin healing.

The message that book sends is powerful and it is the exact reason that have alson chosen to speak about my family's adversity.  It is not done to exploit my daughter and her assailant, instead it is meant to reach out to others to let them know that they are not alone.  Years ago I knew of no one else who had gone through anything similar.  My world suddenly kept shrinking, until it contained only a few small people that I trusted.  By shutting the rest of the world out, we keep our secret safe. 

Little by little, the need to reclaim our lives creeped up on us.  I started to talk about the pain that we had went through and to my surprise found that others were willing to share their own personal stories.  Not only were we no longer alone, we had somehow managed to bring others out into the light for the first time.  No longer held captive by our past, I knew that we held the key to helping others.  Within the past six months, I have had five people disclose their own abuse for the first time.  I think that is amazing and I am so proud that they took the first step towards healing.  Words are a very powerful thing.  Whether written or spoken, they have the power to touch people's lives.

Like a college student around exam time, the past week I have been pulling all nighters to finish my book proposal.  As one of the most important document in my life, I have been maticiulous about every aspect of writing this.  Cross referencing notes and manuals, my world has been colored coded between highlighters and sticky notes.  It needs to be pitch perfect if I want to pitch it to an editor.

With most of the legwork behind me, I can now focus on formatting the pages correctly.  Each aspect of the proposal is on it's own page, with the title 1/3 of the way down the paper and underlined.  In the top right hand corner is a header with my title and name and adjacent to that is a page number.  Underneath all this lies the meat.  Double spacing all my text, I now have to let my voice shine through as I prove to a publisher why a book of my genre is necessary, how my story compares to others on the market, and show a detailed market analysis, complete with a plan for it's promotion.  A task impossible to complete without doing some thorough homework on the subject.

Though it took me months to perfect, I am proud to announce that I have my 20lb paper and fresh ink cartridge out and ready for use.  Knowing that I can't trust a pair of eyes that have been up for 18 hours, I will wait on hitting the print button until my writing partner lives up to her responsibility and looks over my work with critiquing eyes.  You can never trust spell check 100% when something this important is awaiting approval.

Now that a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I can finally turn my focus back on editing my book (which has been the easier of the two to write.)  My new goal is to try and finish this process before I head back to work in the fall, but probably a more realistic expectation will be to work on a new chapter each week.

I thought I would leave you with a picture that helps me to find a serence place whenever I get stuck.  The water always helps to clear my head...filtering out the million things that run through it every minute, and allowing what I need to trickle out slowly and purposefully. 

Who knew that right here in Hollywood Studios I would find a little cafe that catered to wrtiers.  Was it fate?  Perhaps, or maybe just luck that I happened to stumble upon this little treasure and couldn't resisit a photo op.

Years ago my writing started out as theraputic.  It was a way for me to express myself without having to actually say the words.  It was private and safe.  But as everything does in life, my writing has evolved.  I am much stronger now and no longer confined within my shame.  My writing was meant to be something more...it was meant to be shared.

And so I tiptoed down a path, unsure of where to start and unaware of where it would take me.  I followed each curve and was surprised at what I found as I went along.  I discovered compassion, acceptance, and understanding.  For years I felt that what happened to my family was unique.  Now I know that it is happening to families everywhere, and only a few are brave enough to talk about it.

Each time I hear of another story of abuse I know that my calling is closer.  I don't just want to get my book into their hands, I need to.  When somebody is subjected to abuse the sense of isolation sets in.  They may not know where or how to seek out the help that they need to get through the pain.  My story is one way to reach these people.

A good friend of mine recently attended a writers conference and was drawn to one of the keynote speakers Barbara J. Hansen.  She talked about her own experience of abuse and how she works towards healing.  Afterwards my friend purchased me an autograph copy of her book Listen to the Cry of the Child.  Books like these are invaluable to survivors, yet often hard to obtain because most publishing houses are leary of taking on such a controversial topic.  Should we not publish books just because society is not ready to accept that abuse is taking place in homes all across the United States, or should we take a stand against violence and let the victims know that they do not need to be ashamed as they are not the ones who did anything wrong.  I am choosing the latter.  I am a writer, the mother of a survivor, and an advocate for those who cannot find a voice for themselves.

Ten people have gathered together to share their heart, pain, determination, and strength.  Friends and family joined them for support as they walked towards the podium and bared their souls as they spoke the words that until now have only been written.

The River's End Bookstore served as a host while the Writing Academy of 2011 presented their very first public reading. Although the nervousness was evident in our seats, as each of us took center stage professionalism shone through as we read our pieces.  I was very proud of each of my classmates for their courage and hard work.

I had chosen to read a different chapter than what my collegues had been privey to during our classes.  It was a softer piece, yet the validity of the content remained.  As I glanced up I noticed the tears in my husband's eyes as I read.  I was greatful to have such a caring man in my life.

After the readings, time was allowed to mingle with the presenters.  As I made my way through the room one of the audeince members had approached me and disclosed their own personal adversity. They had kept this secret their entire life, and I was the only person they felt comfortable enough to tell.  My ears served as tool for this person to relieve some of the burden they have been carrying for decades.  It proufoundly affected me knowing that by telling my story, I had reached out to another human allowing them to start their healing. 

My determination has been renewed to continue my journey in publishing my book.   Abuse does not adhere to any specific ethnic or social economical backgrounds.  Instead it spills between them all, touching on each
equivalently.  The vast majority of its victims remains quiet, and I hope that my story will give just one more person the courage to come forward, accept that they did nothing wrong, and take back their lives.