March, 2013:

Heidi Giraud, my Artist daughter

My daughter, Heidi, tapped into her hidden art talents just a few years ago. I’ve been continually amazed at the variety of styles and subject matter she’s produced; each of her artworks are imaginative and colorful. She keeps producing and I’m sharing a few. I love them all and want more of them on my walls…I must admit, I’m prejudiced!

Red Hat

Red Hat

Wanting to spread the word about her talents, I asked her to write something about herself and she did:  The past few years I’ve felt that I needed/wanted to do something creative. I don’t recall having a desire to paint when I was a child, but believe it must have been there in my soul. When I was kicked out of high school,  I was sent to continuation high school. I decided to take an art class and the first painting I did was a watercolor, all freehand, no tracing. I fell in love with it, but wasn’t settled enough in my life to do more than one more watercolor.

Sunflowers for Sally

Sunflowers for Sally

 My artistic yearnings inspired me to use a lot of color when I decorated various apartments of mine over the years. Then I took another art class for a few months, and that planted the seed that grew into a satisfying habit of painting. I have always been attracted to the shapes you can create, not to mention the colors you can use in abstract. My favorite colors are bright blues, reds, oranges and greens. There are no rules in abstract painting, you can create whatever you want, probably why I enjoy it so much. Abstract painting opens your mind to all sorts of interpretations. I feel it’s a perfect expression of life. Just when you think you know what is is, you look deeper into the painting with your mind and soul and see something totally different.


Abstract for Hansi

Abstract for Hansi

My inspirations can come from anything. I can walk down a street in downtown Los Angeles, or see the sun’s rays flicker upon the Pacific Ocean and get my ideas from that. My emotions also play a part in my creations.


PINK GLASSES — on a Navy Pilot?

Pink Glasses

The divorcees in the chic Los Angeles bar/restaurant were attracted to Will’s spirited zaniness mixed with a gentle nature. They had no idea what mental turmoil it masked. Far from rich, Will, a former Navy pilot and Viet Nam vet, had to rent a room from one of his new friends, yet he bought a brand new Porsche and kept his old one.  What was he concealing?

Betty excused herself and slowly pushed her way toward the bathrooms, about ten excuse-me’s away. When she hadn’t returned twenty minutes later, the others began to look around.

“I see her,” Joyce said. “She’s deep in conversation with some fellow in pink sunglasses.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it, except for Halloween!”

Celia and Liz strained to see where Joyce was staring.

“He’s very attractive, and looks interesting,” Liz offered.

“She’s bringing him over, girls,” Celia said excitedly, looking forward to some male interaction.

They watched as Betty and the tall lean man in the pink-frames with darkened pink lenses pushed their way through the tightly meshed crowd toward the table of women. Wavy dark hair was cut close around the man’s small head; it resembled a military cut and was much shorter than the current style. As he got closer they could see his dark brown, somewhat unruly eyebrows sat over kind brown eyes. At ease with himself, he was smiling as if he’d known all of them as friends for a long time. They noted he was handsome and dressed casually in a navy blue-plaid shirt and tan pants. He wore loafers without socks.

A chair at the next table was empty, and Celia pulled it over.  “We’ve got a chair for you,” she said as she looked up at him hopefully, waiting for an introduction.

“This is Will,” Betty said and then introduced each of the friends.

The empty chair was between Celia and Joyce, and Will sat there leaning into the table as if eagerly waiting to hear whatever the women had to share with him. The friends looked at each other with surprise, they were taken aback by his open friendly manner. Nearly all of the men they had encountered here hid their feelings and kept their thoughts to themselves.

Most men would be a bit put off and act mysterious confronted by four intelligent women, Joyce thought to herself as she scrutinized their guest. She wasn’t currently involved with a man; maybe she’d explore this one.

“You girls come here often?” Will asked.

“Once in a while,” Joyce offered and added, “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“How do you know if you don’t come often?” Will answered, smiling.  The others laughed, a bit self-consciously, caught in their attempt to be cool.

“Will told me he was a Navy pilot, girls.  Remember Top Gun?” Betty asked.

“A Navy guy who favors pink sunglasses!” Celia remarked, a bit too pointedly. She looked slightly embarrassed after her remark and made a note to herself to stop treating all men as if they were Malcolm, her live-in for so many years.

Liz, the tender-hearted, interjected, “Men need a little softness in their lives. What’s wrong with pink? It used to be the rage in the ‘50s, with charcoal gray.”

“And, of course, we all remember the 50s!” Betty couldn’t resist and laughed at her willingness to reveal her true age.

Joyce, who had recovered from her earlier faux pas, asked, “So what do you do?”

“You women,” Will answered, laughing lightly, “you don’t waste any time. Or is it just this place? Everyone wants to know how much money you make. Or what sign you are.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Joyce said petulantly as she ran her hand through her shoulder-length blond hair.

“Girls, girls,” Betty interrupted. “Give him some breathing room. Will, are you sure you can handle all of us?”

“I’m between jobs,” Will said quickly. He leaned back in his chair looking at them gently  from behind the pink lenses; a small smile played upon his attractive, yet childlike and vulnerable face.


To find out what happens, check out:

PATSY & DON SWAYZE, Mother and Son

During my long career in journalism, I interviewed hundreds of interesting people in many different walks of life, and that included a lot in the entertainment industry. Luckily, I saved many of the newspapers and magazines that contain my stories so I can share them again.

The Swayze family was a fascinating one. Most movie fans remember  Patrick Swayze and his wonderful movies, “Dirty Dancing,” and “Ghost.” I didn’t meet the famous Patrick, but I discovered the reason he was such a terrific dancer when I had a long talk with his mother Patsy. Then, a few years later, I interviewed his brother Don, also an actor. These stories were published in Southern California newspapers, long before Patrick passed away from cancer.

Patsy, Patrick and Lisa Swayze

Patsy, Patrick and Lisa Swayze


Dance was in Patsy’s blood and she passed that enthusiasm down to her five children. She was a dance instructor at the University of Houston and had her own Houston Jazz/Ballet Company. Patsy choreographed the John Travolta movie “Urban Cowboy” and all her children were in it. Don Swayze did some stand-in work in the film for Travolta. In 1980 the Swayze’s moved to Simi Valley, California, and Patsy started a dance studio there, and that’s where I interviewed her in 1989.

She was very congenial and reminded me a lot of my mother, who had always been into physical fitness and dancing. My mom taught exercise classes when my parents retired in San Antonio. What impressed me the most about Patsy was her passion for helping people. She was pleased with her children’s success and declared, “A mother’s reward is knowing things touch your kids, that they are sensitive to other people’s feelings and needs. That spells success more than stardom.”

I met Patsy’s son Don when I interviewed him while he was playing a Civil War general in a play in Thousand Oaks. After having met his mother, I wasn’t surprised he was charming and friendly. He called himself an “adrenaline junkie,” and after hearing about his adventures jumping off tall buildings and towers, I was amazed he was still in one piece. He had done about 2,000 jumps by that point in the late 1990s. At least he used a parachute. Some of his jumps included a 900-foot tower in Las Vegas, Yosemite’s El Capitan and Half Dome.


Don Swayze

Don Swayze

In 1995 he wasn’t that lucky when he jumped off a Navy radio tower in San Diego; he even had three parachutes packed and it was only 600 feet high. He jumped at 3 a.m. after taking 45 minutes to climb the tower (he’d jumped it 80 times already). The square parachute opened the wrong way and he hit the ground going 80 mph and then “bounced back up.” He had his cell phone but the 911 operator didn’t believe him at first and then they took an hour to find him.

He had to overcome 50 fractures, 40 of them in his left foot. He also broke his left femur and his pelvis. That wasn’t the end of the repercussions, which included a month in the hospital, 12 surgeries, a bone infection and metal hardware in his body.

Don, who’s the father of a daughter, didn’t let his injuries stop him; he was back to acting a couple of years later, and I believe he’s still acting on TV. He told me his horrible accident forced him “not to take things for granted.”

I wonder what Patsy thought of Don’s adventures!








In Southern California, the entertainment capital of the world,  it’s not unusual to see large white trucks parked on local streets—film crews have come for a day or two of filming. It could be for a commercial, a TV show or perhaps even a glamorous exciting movie! On my way to Trader Joe’s to get groceries recently, I saw them lined up about a block long on the street bordering a local park. I get a kick out of seeing the long trucks full of dressing rooms and imagining who will use them. When the rooms are small,  it’s not going to be anyone famous.

Not long ago, one of the local car washes looked like it was open for business, but they were using it for some kind of film shoot. Since Fashion Square car wash didn’t want to lose its regular clientele (it was on the weekend), a man and woman were sitting near the entrance handing out free washes because of the inconvenience.

The Los Angeles Times prints a map and a list of “permitted shoots” for the week in the Business section. “About a Boy” is a TV shoot done by NBC and is filming in Studio City, only minutes from me. “My Cat from Hell” must be something new on TV, and it’s filming tomorrow right in Sherman Oaks, perhaps just blocks away. “Tick Tock Too” is a new movie being shot in West Hills, about 20 minutes away.  And then there are the commercials, like Purina One being made in Encino, and Mazda whose shoot is in Griffith Park.

One of the best, almost perpetual film sets is a natural one: Malibu Creek State Park, 7,000 acres located off Malibu Canyon Road in the Conejo Valley. I was living with my family in that general area when it opened to the public in 1976, and we were eager to hike through it. The State of California combined the old 20th Century Fox movie ranch, extensive property owned by Bob Hope and 250 acres belonging to Ronald Reagan from 1951-1967. The valley and surrounding Santa Monica Mountains were once the territory of the Chumash Indians.

On one of our first family hikes, there were still some movie sets around—the dome-shaped homes of the apes in “Planet of the Apes,” which starred Charlton Heston, for instance. What looked like a shallow concrete pool was the miniature set for “Tora, Tora, Tora,” a movie about World War II. The lovely home used for Cary Grant’s film, “Mr. Blandings Builds his Dream House” is still there and used for an administrative office for California State Parks.

Some of the many movies made in that scenic area included: “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. The park was supposed to be South America and one of the characters actors in it, Strother Martin, lived nearby in Malibu Lake. Elvis Presley made “Love Me Tender” there, and in the classic 1941 film, “How Green Was My Valley,” the area posed as Wales.

A more recent film made by Mel Brooks: “Robin Hood, Men in Tights”  was filmed there.  I met Mel Brooks shortly after his film came out. I was doing an interview in Santa Monica at the Pritikin Institute. He and his wife, Anne Bancroft, were having dinner in the Pritikin banquet hall and I introduced myself. I couldn’t resist telling Mel how much I liked his funny movies, particularly the Robin Hood movie. He had one particular joke in the film that applied to the area’s history: the actors used a real fox as a messenger and as it ran away, the line was, if I remember correctly: “There goes the 20th Century Fox!”

One of the most popular shows on television, “MASH” was filmed in Malibu Creek State Park. The area must have resembled Korea. I missed the opportunity to ask my dad, who had fought in the Korean War, if he had ever watched “MASH.” The TV set is now long gone, but they left behind an old Army truck, which stands as a souvenir in the area that was once the set.

Old Army truck from MASH



In a previous blog, I discussed the otherworldly transmissions that were channeled through a friend named Rob some years ago. They were plentiful at the time and I saved quite a few. Since the wisdom still applies, I am going to share more of the message.

Rob would let his body be used to transmit wisdom through his fingers onto a computer keyboard and then onto the computer screen.  He never knew what the message, which could be as long as ten pages, was until his wife printed the message out on his printer. The words in some sentences don’t make sense at first because they are segmented to show how words have many levels of meaning. If read quickly, your brain will translate automatically. Don’t over-think it, reading it out loud to yourself helps.

Heidi Giraud's art--isn't creativity channeled from the Universe?

Heidi Giraud’s art–isn’t creativity channeled from the Universe?

Here is an example:

The reshaping of your vision is critic all to your growth and development as a plane it.  All the blood, the violent deaths, the props, the stage eye on of the drama, your dreams and your night mares, are all controlled by you. Your met A four is the move ease. The ultimate truth of the illusion lies in under stand in the special E facts.

It is all image ion. It is all done with create ions from your unlimited super conscious memory that is able to tap into the universal truth. Dream quests, opt tickle effects and image E S, digit all illusions on all fronts. It is simply over well my eye on to you, yet you are only at the beginning of this level of ultimate awareness. It is a new toy in the child’s hand.

Animate tie in. You can see how you have taken to the graphic display of this medium of illusion in your Move ease.  Your star wars provide a message linked ultimately at total recall of your gifts and bonding to all things. You are nothing than a part of the total picture. You are players, cast, imagination and creativity. You are on your way toward a new level of aware news.

Do not worry about tomorrow for it has already passed you by in that amount of concern for today. Do not worry about what WILL happen for it has already happened when you stay in the past. All moments are one and can be changed in an instant. The moment you forget the past you WILL create a new future. The moment you worry about the present, you lose the future. You are continuous free flowing energy that is not meant to stop. It is you who chooses to try and stop that which cannot.

If you deny the future by holding on to something, you move into the past. You do not stop, but you do not go forward.  That is why you continually shift perspectives. That is why you move in and out of grids, dimensions, levels of reality, or dream states. It is because your soul, as pure energy, never stops. It always goes somewhere. If you fight, fear, try to control, hold on to judgment and anger, the energy flows backward.


There are more things in your life than are dreamt of in your philosophy is a line from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.” It was written over 400 years ago, but it may as well have been written a million years ago. Life is mysterious and the more we know, the more we know we don’t know. How is it all possible, what is the Source, and why is the Universe expanding? Nothing is ever created or destroyed… There are no easy answers, no matter what religion or spiritual thought is the most appealing to you.

I’ve explored many teachings in many books: Seth, Paramahansa Yogananda, Abraham, Buddhism, Christianity, Mormonism…there’s a great deal of thought available to attempt to explain what life and death are or aren’t.


Vision of Space from the Hubble Telescope--A Clue of our Origins?

Vision of Space from the Hubble Telescope–A Clue of our Origins?

Channeling—information that comes through a human from another source—is quite intriguing. One of my first experiences was listening to a fairly young man (Thomas) channel a Dr. Peebles, who was a Scottish medical doctor and naturopath who actually lived from 1822 to 1922. I didn’t take notes but remember that the messages for the audience, who had paid to see him, were encouraging. I was told I was a medium (a vehicle for ideas or a communicator of ideas from the dead says the dictionary), which is an apt description for someone writing a blog!

About 20 years ago I became good friends with Ann and Rob, a couple   who were as intrigued with the metaphysical as I was. Rob offered himself to the “Universe” to convey general wisdom and to receive spiritual help for himself and his wife. Rob would sit at his computer when he chose to let the messages come through him to type onto to his computer screen. He wasn’t aware of the specifics; he sat there in something of a trance while his fingers raced over the keyboard, faster than he typed when he was totally conscious. His wife Ann came into his office afterward and printed out the long messages—usually from 3-10 pages. Since the messages would split up many of the words to show how words have layers of meaning, Ann would “translate” the most difficult parts. For instance: animate tie in  is “animation.” The communication he received for a few years applied to all, and I was privileged to receive copies of the transmissions. I have saved many of them and their wisdom still applies, in my opinion.

I will share a small portion of a transmission on this blog and will offer more of it in a later blog.

On June 21, 1991, what might be best explained as a group of non-physical souls who called themselves “Saint Germaine” communicated:

Everything you are about in this moment, as well as every thing you have been about concerns your S piece eye all E facts. You are now coming of age in this regard. You are now learning that you have unlimited control when it comes to reshaping your level of real eye tie in this physical moment. You can begin to see with this unlimited vision, what this illusion is truly about. You can do anything you want.

Because they are discussing special effects in movies and in “real” life, they split up that word and played with reality as well. Make of it what you will.




MAMA JAKE & DADDY ED – My Maternal Grandparents

Bertha Jake and Edwin P. Motley in older age

My grandparents, known to all the family as Mama Jake and Daddy Ed (a typical form of address in the South), had a happy 44-year marriage filled with the joys of children and each other’s company.

Big families were more a fact of life years ago. Mama Jake came from a family of eleven, the Seago’s,  and Daddy Ed had seven brothers and I don’t know how many sisters. Neither family were Catholic or Mormon, a common reason for large families these days. Family Bibles, testaments to life and death, were stuffed with information on births, marriages and even a few reasons for death. My cousin Nancy passed on a list of Mama Jake’s siblings, most likely from my grandmother’s Bible. Her brothers hadn’t fared so well in life: Henry died of poisoned liquor (I wonder if it was bootleg), John, a lawman, was shot by a bootlegger, and Albert fell accidentally—there were no details on these mishaps. I wondered about cancer of the heart, which befell a sister named Mary; two other sisters died from pneumonia and childbirth.

When I wanted to find out more about my grandparents, however, I knew whom to call: my older cousin, Amy Lee, a Danville native.  In my eyes, she’s the family historian because she was a witness and still remembers those long ago days.

Daddy Ed, who didn’t like sales, handled the books for Motley & Sons, the family furniture store in downtown Danville, Virginia, and took the bus home for Mama Jake’s hot lunch every day. “He never came in the house that he didn’t go straight to Mama Jake and kiss her,” Amy Lee recalled. Another relative has mentioned how kind he was.

Mama Jake not only took care of her husband and  seven children, but she “did everything for everybody” in the neighborhood, including Moseley Memorial Methodist Church, a few blocks away, Amy Lee said. She was also a fine seamstress and known for her silk ties, which she sold. My mother had the same natural inclinations–help your family and everybody else as well!

Daddy Ed never needed to spank any of his children or grandchildren for misbehavior. He didn’t even need words, Amy Lee commented, since, “He could look a hole right through you.”

Besides being the family poet, Daddy Ed loved to entertain by playing his guitar and mouth harp. He had a good sense of rhythm and would sing little songs for which he had created the words and music.

My mother and I lived with Mama Jake and Daddy Ed in their roomy home on the corner of Berryman Avenue for a few years during World War II and a couple of years afterward. My father Victor, an infantry major, was serving in Italy when Daddy Ed wrote this poem in 1944 to my mother, Garnette. I would imagine the poem was for her birthday on July 22. I like to imagine that he sung it to an appreciative family audience as well.

Another year has rolled around,

To find Bertha Garnette still in town.

She has reached the age of twenty-three,

And started her a family tree.

Her baby girl, Victoria Anne,

The finest young one in this land,

She twines herself around our heart,

And with her we would hate to part.

While daddy Victor, over the sea,

Fights like hell, for you and me.

So we must care for Garnette and Viki,

She’s mighty sweet, but also tricky.

How in the world could sweet Sixteen,

Make herself the Major’s queen,

Secure for herself good things in life,

Without the struggles, stress and strife.

But anyhow, we wish for you,

Long life, good health, your lover true,

Your baby grow to love you most,

And Victor come back home as host.

Daddy Ed signed the poem: Mamma and Daddy


After stopping in various Mediterranean ports, on July 1, 1958, the USNS General Rose left the port of Gibraltar and sailed into the Atlantic Ocean. Destination: Brooklyn Navy Yard, New York City on July 8. There were approximately 160 passengers (military and their dependents)  from Wheelus/Tripoli and about 15 of those were teenagers. In Turkey (we had stopped in Istanbul and Izmir), I’d documented in my scrapbook that we’d picked up 22 more teens, which made a grand total of 37 of us traveling across the Atlantic. That’s quite a party!

The Aft Lounge was essentially headquarters for the large group of teenagers. We played games, listened to rock music: “Who’s Sorry Now,” “Pretty Baby,” and “Purple People-Eater,” and expended lots of energy dancing. As I wrote, we “goofed around,” and if there wasn’t enough to do, we could go to the main lounge and “pester the grown-ups.”

An 18-year-old named Bill, who was coming home with his family from Ankara, Turkey, was interested in me and I enjoyed the attention and the opportunity for a skilled dancing partner. He taught me “his special little dip,” and we spent some time star-watching out on deck. Or at least that’s what we called it! Funny that I don’t remember any constellations…

There was a party for everyone the evening of July 4th. I noted that Bill picked me up for the dance and I wore a “red print, off-the-shoulder dress.” When the lounge proved dull, the teens persuaded the seaman in the control room to put on snappier music. “We livened things up…bopped up a storm, and did The Stroll, which the grown-ups thought was real cute,” I commented. The chaplain, who was a “marvelous” dancer and usually squired my mother, invited me to do the polka with him and we danced for ten minutes! I had discarded my fabulous Italian cork heels bought in Naples and was barefooted. I felt like the Belle of the Ball.

Our last night on board, July 7, featured a farewell dinner and I saved the menu. The offerings included: Fresh Halibut with lemon and butter, Grilled Beef Steak with Mushroom Sauce, or Baked Virginia Ham with Pineapple Sauce. Besides a choice of potatoes, yams, corn, rice or peas (so typical of American food then), there were salads: Hearts of Lettuce (iceberg, of course), Hard-boiled Egg with mayo, or Cottage Cheese on Lettuce Leaf. Dessert was a choice of cookies, ice cream, fruit compote, Danish pastry or a Chocolate Nut Sundae. Babies had their choice of Pablum, carrots or apricots! We were served coffee, tea, cocoa, iced tea with lemon or water to drink. I was too young and distracted with other interests to notice if there were any alcoholic beverages. To celebrate the end of the cruise, our waiter took a Polaroid–the best in photo technology in those days!

Mom, Me, sister Tupper, and teachers: Ed, Marilyn and Becky–our table

As we got near New York, a stinky fog rolled in and we started to pass other ships going our way.  One distinct memory was listening to a shipboard radio catching all the latest rock ‘n roll tunes from a New York radio station. We hadn’t heard the current hit, “Charlie Brown,” and it was wonderful to contemplate all the Stateside surprises coming up. Libya and the other countries in the Middle East had been quite an adventure for most of us, but being back home in the USA and sailing past the Statue of Liberty was even more exciting.

I paid no attention to the world news on our souvenir Rose Report. Russia was threatening to withdraw from the UN, the Soviets were set to release nine American airmen whose plane had been forced to land in Soviet Armenia, and Cuban rebels were releasing five American civilian prisoners to be flown to Guantanamo Bay. Secretary of State John Foster Dulles was on his way home to talk to President Dwight Eisenhower. Dulles had been trying to discourage France’s Premier Charles de Gaulle from insisting France become a major nuclear power. As the French like to say, “The more things change, the more they remain the same.”

My departing gift from my shipboard beau was a 50-cent piece to buy a banana split when I got to Northern Virginia, where my family would be living. I thought I might see Bill again since his family was also relocating there, but when my dad saw me with a guy’s arm around my shoulders as we pulled into the dock at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, he was on alert. When Dad discovered Bill was 18,  that was the end of that potential romance!





I’ve been an avid reader since age five, as I remember, and I’ve never lost the passion for it. My joy expanded when I started writing—I wrote a story about a lost dog when I was about ten. At fourteen, I was writing articles for the school newspaper The Barracan at Wheelus Air Force Base High School in Tripoli, Libya. As the years went by and I moved to Southern California, I wrote columns for weekly newspapers and eventually became the editor of several newspapers and magazines.

When my book, Melaynie’s Masquerade, didn’t go on to fame and fortune, I needed to consider other avenues of moneymaking. I had had enough of newspapers and thought editing books was the next step since I had already done a few. I had self-published Melaynie with 1st Books (now Author House) and I applied to have them list me on their website as a private editor.


It was a great beginning to a private editing career and an education in itself. In the next 15 years, I edited about 100 books and am still at it! I vividly remember each trip through a client’s imagination. Some authors had experience but most didn’t, and the level of education greatly varied. There were books I essentially wrote but I didn’t ask for co-writer credit. I had to pull the information out of various authors’ memories, especially Ralph Heidler, whose disturbed father had severely abused him. That book, Andy Walks With Me, has since been used in a university psychology course in Pennsylvania.


Stan Papell's book translated into Russian

Stan Papell’s book translated into Russian

My client, Stan Papell, who has since passed on, was an experienced writer of screenplays. But everyone needs an editor! His exciting adventure, The Second Confirmation, set in the US and Russia and involving an alien from another planet, was published in Russia a few years back. When Stan’s widow sent me a copy of his book, she underlined my name in the acknowledgments since it was written in Cyrillic.

Richard Lee, a retired Marine and a US government employee, was so moved by the World Trade Center catastrophe, he wrote an exciting story, Personal Justice, about a few New York police and firemen who get special training and hunt down Osama bin Laden. These fictional heroes killed bin Laden in the book long before US Seals managed to do the deed.


Wendy Wong was born and raised in Hong Kong but is now a US citizen living in Honolulu. I helped her expand the memoir of her challenging and successful life, When the Phoenix Rises. She felt I was able to really relate to her life as a Chinese woman. I didn’t think that was difficult—we humans are all more alike than different.

A few clients keep writing and come back to me for editing. Pat Sendejas, an expert in the Chinese practice of Feng Shui and the Feng Shui personality types, started with Letting Go to Create a Magical Life and keeps on writing.

Debra Pauli has used me for several books, starting with the memoir of surviving her horrific childhood: A Survivor’s Closet. Now she’s working on a humorous but serious book on surviving life as a single woman.






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