I have got to tell you guys all about this.  About six weeks ago there was a writer’s conference here in Salinas.  At first it was incredibly annoying because Mother literally chucked this in my lap just a few days before the conference.  I don’t really have a lot of time to think; what about my back pain?  What kinda chairs they got?  Is the wheelchair fixed?  I agreed to it, but I still wasn’t sure.  She literally catapulted me into this thing.  And you’d think she’d be all over her stuff; printin out her work and getting a presentation ready, but to my surprise she dragged her feet the whole way.

It was gonna be hot, the wheelchair wasn’t fixed and I didn’t think I could do it but I certainly didn’t want to waste the 200+ dollars Mom paid.  So the night before the conference I came up with a smashing plan.  I was scheduled to have a private session with a literary agent who specialized in my genre.  So I printed out 25 pages from the first WLS attempt, a synopsis and a page about the author.  I stuck inna nice lil folder all organized with my name, conference ID number, genre, address, phone number and email.  I made it so all Mother had to do was hand it over.

Unfortunately this was a five minute presentation and Mom was kinda flustered and didn’t realize I’d done all the work for her.  However the literary agent was intrigued (although he said lose the profanity and that was totally my fault for having fuck in the first sentence of the synopsis.  I was thisclose to taking it out), but besides that he said it was an extremely hot and timely topic and he’d be happy to represent me; the only catch being since I’m a first time writer I need the completed product.

But here’s the thing:  This wasn’t just any literary agent guys, when Mom told me who it was I shot through the ceiling with glee.


Drum roll please…

Michael Larsen.  Yeah you heard me, THE Michael Larsen.  That’s THE Michael Larsen who’s wrote several books on how to get an agent and get published.  He told many another folk that if they did this and that they’re book could have potential, but he was totally down with me, or at least for five minutes.  Unfortunately noone could take your work, which was a damn shame.  I actually think his partner Elizabeth Pomada might be a better option as she does memoirs.

Still, I feel I need to find a helpful writer and take a course or two.  Seeing as how my high school education was a joke and I’ve yet to go to college.  I know my grammar, punctuation, sentence and paragraph structure are all over the map; I just try and make it appear like I know what the hell I’m doing.  I also have no idea how to section it off into chapters – with non-fiction, agents and publishers prefer an outline and chapter synopsis.  So I don’t know if I could go against the norm and make it more like journal entries or if the chapter thing is mandatory.  

And with that in mind I’ll probably have to put most of my blog under lock and key, or at least the weight loss ordeal.  Which is kinda unfortunate as I hoped it might help a few folks, but who the hell wants to buy your book when they can read it for free?

And now for you viewing pleasure I present my About the Author page:


About the Author

Elizabeth Brooke Lee is an extremely cranky individual and has valid reasons to prove her disposition.  

Although a 430 pound young woman, she was blessed with a seemingly Touched By An Angel medical health.  So you can imagine her surprise when a weight reduction procedure referred to as the Roux-en-Y quite literally ruined her life.  Fast forward three years later to the present and we find her taking nine different prescriptions, as opposed to two pre-op, including suffering from severe ulcers; prior to surgery she never once endured a light case of heartburn.  Brooke also suffers from debilitating back pain, became bulimic and only lost 100 pounds.  

Most people in this situation would give up and/or switch surgeons, but Brooke has remained loyal to her surgeon.  In fact her rather pushy and opinionated attitude finally broke through and much to her surgeon’s surprise he found himself respectful of her intelligence and even fond of this most unruly patient.  Now Brooke being the determined cuss she’s always managed to be, is preparing for a second surgery; a revision of the first.

This story in narrative, diary-like form is raw, emotional and quite often incredibly pathetic; you’ll find yourself laughing when you think you shouldn’t be, but life is like that.  Blatant honesty gives people the chance to climb inside and poke at the dirty gooey things that are often hidden from the naked eye, but there’s a lil voyeurism inside all of us.

Brooke is sorry she cannot be present to meet with you personally.  Because of the intense pain and the anxiety that always manages to follow suit, irrationality takes charge and before you know it a maniac begins taking hostages while demanding mass quantities of Vicodin and dark chocolate truffles.  Brooke would also like to apologize in advance for the inevitable spelling and grammatical errors as narcotics tend to make one’s brain turn to tapioca.  Anything else is Microsoft’s fault.

Thank you for taking the time to read.

Somewhere…

I know, I know; I’ve been silent but it’s hard to make your mind work when it feels like someone’s using a jackhammer on your spine.  And all ya seem to be doing is counting down the minutes till you can take more pain pills.

Rolled outta bed this afternoon with typical searing pain and Jabba the Hut staring back at me from my mirrored closet doors; that is if Jabba wore mint green jammies with lil kitties on ‘em.  At this point in time it’s hard not to think, “And I went through all that to still feel and look like this?”  However I did hop on the scale and learned I had lost another pound: “Alright, I guess I’ll go on then.”  This now brings us to a total of 24 pounds lost, but how much do I have to lose for my back to stop screaming?

So anyways, I’m no longer spending most of my time in the bathroom.  I know you guys were totally on the edge of your seat about that.  For awhile there I was having very nasty withdrawal symptoms from Effexor since it’s a time released capsule and none of the lil beads seemed to be absorbing.  So they put me on the regular Effexor, however since I was taking the maximum dosage prior they automatically prescribed the same amount.  Turns out taking too much Effexor has very similar symptoms to withdrawal.  Anyways I played experiment and found half the dosage normalized me and no longer made me feel like a paranoid schizophrenic.

I’m not kidding about the paranoid schizophrenia.  I could not focus on anything, 5 or 10 minutes tops.  And I saw things that weren’t really there.  Yeah seriously; like spiders, monsters and people who are dead.  Mix that all together with constant heart palpitations and you got one serious nightmare going on.  

I’ve got portable and cordless back massagers I can drag all over the house, now I just need a laptop to go with ‘em.  I promise next time I’m drugged up good I’ll try and tell ya all that happened and fill in the blanks.