This Side of Invisible

Our brain is a marvelous machine.  For a multitude of reason.  One of the things I find most fascinating is the ability it has to suppress memories.  Yes, this is a true concept.  There is research from  Stanford  that has proven that there is a neurobiological response in the brain that shuts down our ability to retrieve traumatic memories, a type of voluntary forgetfulness.  As it is, I have gaping voids in my childhood memory bank and I am beginning to understand why.  And I can see how my tendency to suppress memories created a void rather than small holes.  As I have worked to resurface suppressed memories (a painful and debilitating process) I have noticed that I have gained a greater capacity for remembering everyday things.  There was once a time when my memory maker was so focused on suppressing that daily life became muted, fuzzy, static that I couldn't remember.  I have decades that passed this way for me, including my first years as a new wife and mother.  For

Since announcing "I finished my book" and then posting the first chapter online, I've had a lot of comments, really great endearing comments, about how awesome it is, how awesome I am for doing it.  I love the encouragement, but at the same time, the strokes to my ego rake down my spine with painful unease.  Please, let me explain why. I am excited and amazed and humbled by my own accomplishment.  I am thrilled that after nearly three years, I was able to get my story out of my head and on paper... well, computer.   That being said, I don't want people mistakingly thinking that I did something they couldn't.  Nor do I want anyone thinking I'm some sort of super-mom able to do it all with grace and poise.  While the world (or at least my little corner of the world) sees that I have finished a novel, here is what they don't see: The world doesn't see the days I spend at the computer in my pajamas with a red-headed afro and day-long morning breath.  T

Let the world know that yesterday, July 4th, 2013 around 1:15 p.m. I finished my first novel. Amazing.  If you're wondering.  That's how it feels to finally finish something that's taken nearly three years of hard labor to complete.  I feel so accomplished.  So satisfied and happy.  What a weight off my shoulders.  I FINISHED A NOVEL! In honor of finishing, and to keep myself motivated through the editing process, I'm posting the entire first chapter of I Am Guinevere by Miranda L Marrott  :)  Oh, I just got a chill writing that.   Without further ado: Chapter One:  My First Real Dose of Teenage Drama... and Then Some Dreams are answers to questions we haven’t yet figured out how to ask.  ~X-Files Further proof that fairy tales are not real:  Though I woke up to the sun warming my face and the birds greeting me with their joyous chirping, my hopes set high on losing myself to nature, the day quickly turned dreary.  The English countryside once a