It has been my privilege to pretend to be normal

COVER REVEAL – TOO LATE, a Pride’s Children prequel short story

For the last few days, even though I haven’t changed, and rarely leave the house (and have done so even less than normal because the coughing reduced me to a quivering winter mess), I have had the excitement of participating, however vicariously, in the excesses of the new administration, and the marvelous Women’s marches worldwide.

It has been a privilege to be on Facebook, and write about my reactions, and pass on creative work of others. The activists knew where to start: make a BIG statement.

I like to think I would have gone, had I been able. Let’s leave it at that, so I don’t have to remember how much I hate crowds and uncertainty and noise and the feeling of not being in control which goes along with even peaceful demonstrations. And the fear of being cannon fodder should anything go wrong.

I am so proud – but I am not, by temperament or inclination, a participant or a rabble rouser or a shouter. Or a member of a group. That’s not, for better or worse, the way I think.

My charism is the individual effort

‘Charism’ is a good word, an important word. Wikipedia defines it as ‘in general denotes in Christian theology any good gift that flows from God’s love to humans.‘

When I was the only female student in my cohort in the joint Nuclear Engineering/Electrical Engineering/Physics PhD program at the U. Wisconsin-Madison, I wondered if God wanted me to be that, if that was my charism: to bring the presence of women to a heavily-male program, and that partly kept me working when things got hard (as graduate school does). There was a woman in the cohort ahead of me, and one behind, but it was a big program.

When I worked at the Princeton Plasma Physics Lab, I was one of three women PhDs – and wondered the same: was that where I was supposed to be? Again, a hotbed of male PhDs, where I learned early to identify myself as ‘Dr.Ehrhardt’ on the phone or be taken for a secretary (those same secretaries were my friends, the ones who knew me). ‘Dr.’ cut through a lot of BS.

And then I got sick, lost the physics, and became one of a whole host of women with a mystery disease (CFS) which mostly affects women. I maintained some small amount of individuality by being a homeschooler, using all that training for SOMETHING, even with no energy.

And then came writing.

It is in writing that you are truly an individual, because the kind of novels I write are NOT, in any way, a collaborative effort. I must have been struggling with that feeling of not mattering AT ALL to insist on doing everything myself.

I discovered I can do this. And I hope it will all be worth it, because the writing gives me joy, and the readers who get me, REALLY get me.

And this is what I do with my tiny bit of energy. Because there isn’t enough for both, I have to pour it all into the novels, and let other women (and men) have my admiration and support, whatever that means.

Because I am writing a trilogy about two women, one disabled, and the one man they both want – and why and how – in the backdrop of the world of entertainment, where fame is as fleeting as the last thing you did.

And I think it WILL make a difference.

Try my writing (click on the cover on the top right – 0.99 until Jan. 30. 2017). It is what I do, what makes me unique. Tell me what you think. Is it worth a woman’s life?

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