Yup, that is me. Second grade. The day school pictures were taken. The day after someone decided to trim (no mutilate) my bangs. Perhaps a frustrated hairstylist?
More on that disaster later.
The last thing anyone wanted this week was a snowstorm followed by a winter freeze. But when dealing with the wrath of nature, we have no choice. I should have appreciated the hibernation time to finish my seventh novel. Unfortunately, I could not focus. Instead, I walked away from my computer and decided that the winter hibernation was the perfect time to purge.
Yes. Purge and organize.
Purging brings a feeling of freshness. In my case, I went from an overwhelming feeling of being imprisoned under a mound of snow to hope. I spent the morning hours rummaging through old pictures and books, a collection that would put the Library of Congress to shame; inevitably I discovered surprising treasures.

God works in mysterious ways. My latest novel is a fiction based on forty years of working in a salon behind the chair. The salon was co-owned with my husband, Richard Martin, who passed in 2007. The stylists and the clients were the nucleus of our lives. I had been struggling with the last revisions of this seventh novel. The novel encompasses a fictional salon based on my experiences, paralleled with a rhetorical theme of butterflies. I had reached a lull in organizing the dynamics and flow of the story. I was wondering after three hundred-plus pages and several grueling rounds of edits, if this was even worth my efforts. Toss the whole silly idea in the trash.
And then I found a book hidden among the masses…

This Golden Library of Knowledge, a sixty-nine cent book in a series from 1942, was an oddity. I had no clue where it came from or how it landed in my collection. I picked up the book. Upon opening the first page, I was flabbergasted at the author’s name.

Richard Martin.

I blinked. A 1942 book about butterflies is no big deal, right? (Unless you happen to be writing a novel encompassing a butterfly theme.) I stared at the author’s name. Richard Martin was my partner in business and deceased husband. Of course, Richard was not born in 1942 and upon closer examination the letter ‘A’ was not his middle initial. Clearly, my Richard wasn’t responsible for this Golden Book of Knowledge. But how surreal! Was this a message from heaven about these beautiful insects, or about my novel moving forward?

The snow outside was melting as my bookshelves were slimming down. I was recharged with the hope that my novel was on the right track. I returned to my computer, and fingers typing away on the keyboard in new resilience.

So what does that all have to do with the picture I found of my disastrous second grade haircut.

Second grade was a tumultuous year for me. I helplessly lost a favorite uncle right in my presence, we moved from my childhood home (a home I loved) and my princess-of-a-baby sister was born, all altering my life forever. At the time, as a seven year old, I felt imprisoned under an avalanche. The night before pictures it was I, alone, who chomped a whooping chunk from my hair with no style intended.

My mother (who always had my back) came to the rescue. She was a bookkeeper by trade but could handle a pair of sewing scissors like John Wayne could maneuver a revolver in True Grit. She cut a straight line (well semi-straight) and connected it to my way-above the brow slice. Although a little short, by third grade, I had transformed into the Bell of the Ball with a new wispy style! My mother giving me hope and much needed confidence!

AND they were flirty and just the right length!

Join me on a renewed writing journey while enjoying my latest series!
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I also wanted to share my latest article with ON THE BIT. I talk with a woman who inspires me every day! READ MORE.

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