Tuesday, September 10, 2013

What a Week and Another Snippet

Life throws curve balls all the time, doesn't it? This week, I'd planned to volunteer in the school library, cart kids from ballet practice to football, make a quick run out to our church's temple in Oklahoma City. I'm also making time to write--I plan to finish my fourth novel by the end of October.

Today the school nurse called. My son has the stomach flu. Flexibility--another virtue moms appreciate.

I mentioned my novel. Because I'm an unpublished author, it's hard for me to say, "Hi, I'm an author, and here's what I write," simply because I don't have anything out there for you to read. But that's why I've got this blog, because every now and then, I get to give you a sneak peek of what I'm working on.

This novel is about Olive Kennedy--a psychologist for people who've visited Fairy World and have no memory of it. She's trying to save her godson from an evil being called the Dreamthief. In this scene, she's bantering with a smug, yet handsome,Viking descendant named Kull. He's never been to our world before, and he makes some interesting discoveries . . .

A knock came at my door. I jumped.
I crossed through my living room toward the door. Who could it be at such an unholy hour? I looked out the peep hole.
Kull.
What on earth did he want?
I cracked the door open.
“What?” I asked.
He had a look of amazement on his face as he held up a can of Dr. Pepper. “Have you ever tasted such a thing?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve come here in the middle of night for this?”
“It’s very good. Even in the Wultlands nothing is served as strong as this beverage. It has bubbles in it, Olive.”
I ground my teeth. He peeked inside. “Is everything okay?”
“It was.”
“You look pale.”
“I’m not.”
“May I come inside? You really should try this.”
“Can it wait until—”
He pushed past me and entered my apartment. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. “I could call the police for this sort of thing, you know.”
He ignored me and crossed to my kitchen. He pulled two glasses from the cabinets. My cat, Han Solo, appeared and brushed against the warrior’s legs. I leaned on the bar. I wondered where on earth this guy got his nerve, though secretly I felt grateful not to be alone anymore.
Kull poured two glasses and handed me one. “Drink it slowly. It’s got a powerful fizz.”
I emptied half my cup. He lifted an eyebrow.
“So what happened to staying at your hotel?” I asked him.
“Have you been to one of those places? They’ll bore you to tears. Nothing to do but watch that box. No sport, no libraries. I thought I would succumb to madness. And then I found a machine with this.” He held up his glass. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” I said and took another sip.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
I glanced at my bathroom. The light was still on. “No, not exactly.”
“You’re frightened of something. What is it?”
“I never said I was frightened of anything.”
He leaned over the bar, close enough for me to see the soft azure flecks in his eyes. “You didn’t have to say it.”
I wanted to draw back, but his gaze held me. “In the mirror,” I admitted quietly. “It was the Dreamthief, at least I suspect so.”
“Did it harm you?”
“No, I don’t think it has the power to.” Not yet, anyway.
He unsheathed his sword. Where on earth did that come from? “Shall I destroy the mirror?”

Thursday, September 5, 2013

I'm a Doctor's Wife, Not a Millionaire

When I married my very insanely awesome husband eleven years ago, his marriage proposal came with a warning. "I'm going to be a doctor, Tam. Medical scholl will be hard. Residency will be worse. Life will be hard."
How hard? To put it in perspective, I've decided to address the topic to the Chief himself.

Dear President Obama,

Doctors are an easy target. They make lots of money. They live priveledged lives. They can afford the cuts in salary you're soon to give them.

But, wait. How long did it take for a doctor to get to where he is?

Four years of undergrad+four years of medical school+3-7 years of residency+1-4 years of Fellowship=11-19 years of training.

Do the math yourself. Yes, I'll repeat it. 11-19 years of a doctor's life is spent in training. That's longer than they spent in Elementary, Middle, Junior and High School combined.

Do they drive corvettes and live in mansions during training? Do they get paid the big bucks?

Let's put it this way--Last month I struggled to pay our bills. I had to grovel at the feet of my in-laws for enough money just to cover groceries for the month.

My husband and I have been married eleven years. He's still training. He still doesn't get paid enough to support our family. And when he finally does become a full-fledged doctor, he'll have at least $100,000 of student loans to repay.

So, Mr. President. Please, please don't regulate our doctor's wages, unless you want a healthcare crisis, a shortage of doctors, and more American citizens on food stamps than our already overloeaded system can handle.

Sincerely,
A Doctor's Wife