Many of us are trying to eat more locally grown food provided from our local farmers markets.  There's something special, though, about indulging in tropical fruits when they are in their peak season.  Mango season has begun and will continue to flourish in May and June.  We won't find these fibrous, slightly tart, juicy fruits locally grown nearby unless we live in Florida.  Mangoes are mostly grown in India, the Caribbean, Guatemala, Costa Rica and Mexico.  The perfect ripe mango is soft, and slightly gives when gently squeezed, just like an avocado, not mushy.

     As Jill Bradley, the protagonist in 'I Know You're There', discovers they are delectable in Mango Coladas.  Simply peal the skin and slice the fruit from the pit, blend with rum and a few other tropical ingredients and Ahh…you are transported to a tropical resort.  This 5-star mango colada recipe will be a hit at your next spring or early summer event: http://bit.ly/ZDUikH .  They are equally as satisfying in your favorite smoothy recipe.

Cheers!

While I can't say I published via the traditional route, query letter-agent-publisher, I'm not sure that I can truly say I am 'self' published either.  I wrote the whole book myself.  When it came to publishing it, however,  I enlisted the help of experts in the field and friends.  I hired a graphic designer for the book cover and promotional materials, an editor, a proofreader, and a publishing partner.  I had the book formatted and distributed by Createspace and Bookbaby.  All of these professionals helped me put the finishing touches on my novel.  Friends and family graciously read it and gave me valuable feedback and encouragement that it was worthy of being published.

So what do I think is a fitting term?  How about just published.  I am now a published author.  What really matters is not how the story got there, but what the reader thinks of the story.

     Have you ever done something that you never expected to do?  For me, one thing is writing this novel, I Know You're There.  No one is more surprised that I have become a published writer than I.  It’s not something that I found myself consciously choosing to do.  Sure, as a professional nurse I wrote clinical articles.  As a Garden Shop owner, I blog, guest blog and write ‘how to’ columns for local papers and websites.  But writing a book?  Not me.

     My first written words found a home of their own.  As a nurse, I would periodically write a journal entry after a harrowing day, or about a patient that was particularly inspiring or interesting.  Then one day a colleague of mine told me about a pair of nurses in California who were compiling nurses stories for a book.  I submitted three of mine, two were accepted to be published in Touched by a Nurse.  Touch by a Nurse became an international best seller and was selected to be housed in the Florence Nightingale Museum.  

     After that experience, I began to wonder, could I be a writer?  I began taking writing classes, read about the art of writing, and closely observed how other story tellers script their stories.  The thought of actually sitting down, however, to write anything longer than an article evaded me.  I am way to busy, I told myself.

     In 2010, an internal nudge began to tell me to write a novel.  I was perfectly content creating container garden designs at the business my husband and I own, Naturescapes.  I had ‘retired’ from nursing in 1999.  I say ‘retired’ because leaving nursing is like trying to check out of Hotel California, I joke, you can check out but you can never leave.  My nurse clients even tell me the work that I do at Naturescapes helps people feel better.  I acknowledged the nudge to write, but quickly shooed it away.  

     The more I pushed the nudging feeling to write away, the stronger it got.  I found myself creating a story in my head as I quietly gardened away, but never took the time to write it down.  As a final straw, perhaps, I broke my ankle going down the stairs and was laid up in a cast for six weeks.  My husbands immediately said, “Now you can write that book you are always talking about.”

     And so I began writing, finally.  It turned out to be the perfect mental escape while my bones healed.  Supports and resources for publishing began to come my way.  When I was finally done writing my first novel, I felt lighter, relieved, it was out of me, I did it.