If you’ve been following along for a while, you know that over the past three years I have had health issue after health issue. Finally, an excellent doctor tied it all together – the failed ankle surgery, the injury that caused the ankle surgery to be needed, my ridiculous digestive system, and answers to questions I’ve had for many years.
She diagnosed me with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), which is a genetic disorder I’ve always had. It causes issues with one’s tissues – the collagen in my body is faulty. I’ve always been extra bendy, but the problems go so much deeper than grossing people out with how far I can bend my fingers backward. Faulty collagen can affect every system in your body.
Recently, all the cumulative nonsense that I’ve been able to push through and shrug off for decades hit max capacity. I began to feel the effects in ways I could no longer ignore. Ehlers-Danlos was suddenly affecting my life every single day.
Suddenly, I was disabled and chronically ill.
I was lucky to have gotten through more than fifty years without this condition taking a higher toll on my life than it did. But to go from a super-active world wanderer to a housebound hermit has been a difficult journey, and not just physically. There’s a steep mental price as I struggle to adapt to my new reality.
It’s taught me a lot about preparedness in different circumstances. For years, I got comments from people who are disabled or chronically ill, asking, “What about me?” I gave the best answers I could at the time, but now I know those answers were sorely lacking. For that, if you’re reading this, I’m so sorry.
So, between hospital stays over the past six months, I wrote The Tower. I wrote most of it from my pink recliner (or as I like to call it over on Patreon, The PRLIC – pink recliner industrial complex). I wrote some of it from bed. I even wrote some from the hospital. I wrote it because I now needed to answer those survival questions for myself.
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And obviously, I wrote it because I like heroines who are different and who are wildly underestimated.
What I share with Evie
I have a lot in common with Evie. We share health conditions. We share those horrible episodes after pushing too hard. That’s called “post-exertional malaise,” but I think malaise is far too weak a word. I prefer “post-exertional maelstrom.” We share very cantankerous digestive systems and the need for daily medication to keep us a bit more functional.
We share a dark, absurd sense of humor. In my opinion, there is not much better of a coping mechanism than dark humor. But maybe that’s because I’ve lived in some dark places, and a matching sense of humor was the only way out. If you can’t poke a little fun at yourself and say things like “I hobble-ran through my apartment,” you might be one of those dry, sad people who let their condition become their entire personality.
What I do not share with Evie
Alas, there are things I do not share with Evie that would make my life far easier.
I do not have a secret, flourishing career writing supernatural romance novels that has made me wealthy. I don’t have a penthouse I’ve renovated to my needs and preferences. I do not have an epic Stash Cache taking up an entire room. I don’t have Beauty and the Beast bookcases, though there are books on every available surface here, many of which I also inherited from my father.
I don’t have a twin, a flipside human who is my exact opposite in personality but the other half of my heart. As an adopted person and a kid without a lot of friends, I used to daydream that there was a twin out there who truly understood me, who shared my DNA, who was similar to me in many ways.
I don’t have a disability butler named Magnus, though once I finish paying for Lola, my outside rollator (renamed Sweet Pea in the story) I intend to get one. In fact, I have a whole wish list of things I plan to get one day, such as rolling laundry hampers and risers for my washer and dryer and pull-out gadgets for my bottom cupboards so I don’t have to painfully get down on the floor to access things on the lower shelves. I let my imagination (and my imaginary wallet) run wild when I wrote about Evie’s fabulous home.
I also don’t suffer from quite the same level of anxiety that Evie does, but I definitely did when my symptoms first began to accelerate. It took me a long time to get that under control, but I lived it. Because of that, I can write it and do my very best to let people know what it feels like to have that level of panic as an underlying thread of my personality.
What the book helped me with
Writing this book helped me think through the possibilities and identify some of the things that are not possible when the SHTF. How could I conserve my energy and not push myself to the brink of death while trying to survive a nightmarish situation? How can I manage staying in a less-than-perfect location when I lack the ability to leave?
I worked through many different ways I could do things with physical limitations. I learned I need to get my generators on wheels ASAP when I move into my own place. I learned I need a penthouse with an awesome raised garden bed and a door that’s so solid it has a name, but that might be asking a bit much.
More than that – how could I be useful to others? How can someone like me, who cannot be out there swinging hammers or fighting the enemy? Who cannot stand up in a kitchen all day preserving food or work in the hot sun in the garden? Is there a way that I can still be a valuable part of a community?
I found a way for Evie to help. Whether I might one day be able to do that, I have no idea. But it got my wheels turning about all the beneficial things I know, about the information I have at my fingertips. In a world without Google, a librarian of the Apocalypse may not be such a far-fetched role.
I share something with all my characters.
It’s not just Evie that I share characteristics with. I share something in common with each of my characters.
With Grace, I shared my love for the Appalachians and the dream stone cottage with fabulous gardens, chickens, and an apothecary greenhouse. It’s the type of place I always wanted to retire to. I share some of her knowledge of herbs and how to use them for good and for bad. Whether I share her willingness to rid myself of bad apples in rather horrifying ways, well, I guess only the bad apples and the crows will know for sure.
With Kate, I shared my love for my daughters and a mother’s rage at anyone who threatens them. She and her daughter also love Appalachia, a place that will always be dear to me. I shared my curiosity about survival techniques and a bit of what I learned from different masters of their topics. I shared every mother’s willingness to do anything – and I mean anything – for her child.
But Evie? I really vibed with Evie. She’s probably more like me (except rich) than anyone I’ve written.
Why you may or may not like the book
This is the first story I’ve ever written, journal style. It’s the first one that the main character shared a circumstance so similar to mine. It’s the first survival book I ever wrote that is really funny (at least I think it is) all the way through, not just random little jokes sprinkled throughout.
I hope people like Evie and her story well enough for me to keep writing about her world. She and Nora and Atlas have more adventures in them. And if they thought their city was bad with The Red in control of it, they ain’t seen nothin’ yet. There’s a new boss in town who might be even more merciless than the old boss.
I felt that Grace’s story and Kate’s story were both complete with the books I wrote about them and the epilogues that wrapped things up neatly. But I think Evie has a lot more to say.
What do you think?
Did you find The Tower to be a relatable story? Did you like Evie as a character or did she irritate you? Do you want to hear more from this world, or should I move on to the next world for my next book?
I’d love to know if there was anything you particularly disliked about this story, too. Please tell me in the comments section.
If you want to see if the book is for you, I shared some introductory chapters here.
And as always, if you believe I’ve earned it, a five-star review on Amazon with a blurb about why you liked the story would help me so much.
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