Book Details:

Book Title: Journey’s End: Death, Dying and the End of Life
Authors: Victoria Brewster & Julie Saeger Nierenberg
Category: Adult Non-Fiction; 558 pages
Genre: Resource/Educational
Publisher: Xlibris
Release date: July 20, 2017
Tour dates: Sept 4 to 22, 2017
Content Rating: PG-13 + M
Book Description:

In Journey’s End, we write about death, dying, and end of life issues. We attempt to define and describe these real-life circumstances, and we discuss ways to proactively deal with them. Multiple personal and professional perspectives provide valuable insights.

What is dying like for dying persons, for loved ones, and for those who lend support in the process? Each experience will have unique qualities. Everyone dies in his own way, on his own schedule. While we explore the dying process, we make no assumptions about how any particular death will unfold.

Grief and bereavement support, training tools, and educational resources are included.

 
Meet the Authors:

Victoria has a master of social work degree. She has worked as a case manager with older adults for the past seventeen years and as a group facilitator. Her past work experience was as a therapist with children and families, and as a case manager for adults with mental health issues. She just launched a consulting business, NorthernMSW to focus on end of life issues, planning, training, and advocacy, along with memoir writing and life legacy writing.

Julie was inspired equally by her professional backgrounds as a biomedical researcher and long time educator. Julie values open and lively discussions based on interview and research findings, trends in health and wellness, and exciting new modalities of treatment and professional education. She believes it will be through such discussions that we will create new and more satisfying cultural paradigms within which we may live all the days of our lives with dignity and quality of care.

Connect with the authors: Website ~ Facebook

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My Grandmother

by Victoria Brewster

My maternal grandmother-my memories of her are when I was older. I do not remember her from when I was young. She was a widow and supported my mother and uncle by herself. I never met my maternal grandfather.

I was nine when she moved to Florida, so what I remember of her is from then on. She went to Florida to help take care of my great-grandmother.

I have fond memories of​ visiting with her the summer I turned thirteen when I flew by myself to spend two weeks with her. It was a great vacation! I remember visiting the beach, buying milkshakes, and her teaching me about homeopathy.

My grandmother and I wrote each other often, and even as the years went by, we still wrote one another until she became very ill. We spoke by telephone for birthdays, holidays, and for Mother’s Day sent cards to each other.

When I married, she was unable to travel for the wedding so my (then) husband and I spent two days with her before we went on our honeymoon to show her our wedding video and to visit with her.

When her first great-granddaughter was born, I went with my parents to Florida so they could meet one another. A few months later, my husband at the time and I along with our daughter went down to Florida to say goodbye.

My grandmother was in hospice.

It was difficult, but something I had to do. I needed to see her and say goodbye.

She was buried in New York State when she had lived most of her life. I remember choosing a special poem to read at her funeral, but then the time came, I could not read it. I was too overwhelmed with grief and sadness. My brother ended up reading the poem.

I miss her, but I cherish the photograph that was taken when my oldest was eleven months old of four generations of females together, my grandmother, my mother, my daughter, and myself-memories not to be forgotten.

 

 

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Non-fiction – Mental Health
Date Published: August 16, 2017
Publisher: Rowman & Littlefield
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Beyond ADHD weaves Emmerson’s personal story of his ADHD diagnosis, exploring along the way the latest medical, scientific and societal explanations and tools for managing and living with the condition. Including interviews with a number of experts at the forefront of next-generation ADHD diagnostics and treatment, he questions the cookie-cutter way ADHD is commonly diagnosed and treated. Suggesting that the list of symptoms often used to identify ADHD can be attributed to many other disorders and conditions, he explores how and why ADHD diagnoses have increased by 50% in the last ten years.
Emmerson advocates a different approach to ADHD, arguing that it should be a diagnosis of exclusion rather than the other way around, and that we must look past the label, recognizing that individual symptoms vary and treatment plans should be better tailored to the individual. He examines mental and behavioral issues from all sides, including the possibility that nurturing – rather than trying to alter or suppress – the active, “360-degree” mind is a viable way for those diagnosed with ADHD to realize their gifts and lead purposeful lives.
 
About the Authors

AUTHOR BIO: Jeff Emmerson
From the depths of mental despair to one of social media’s premier spokespeople for mental health issues, Jeff Emmerson is a veritable “Rocky” in the field. Jeff has written for and been interviewed by some of the world’s top online magazines regarding Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), including Everyday Health (featured on AOL Health) and Additudemag. He also enjoys one of the world’s largest social media followings for a non-medical professional on the subject, with more than half a million Twitter followers and a video blog (YouTube Channel) that includes more than 200 different postings on various aspects of ADHD. Many of the top medical experts in the field, as well as specialists in behavioral therapy, vision therapy and neuroscience, regularly post and correspond with him as part of their collective goal: finding a path beyond today’s ADHD “epidemic”. Some share their perspectives in Beyond ADHD.
Born and raised in Ontario, Canada, Emmerson began speaking publicly to raise awareness of ADHD and mental health issues in 2011, following a suicide attempt and resulting ADHD diagnosis. (Three years earlier, he had lost his brother Ryan to suicide). In 2013, after another bout of suicidal ideation, he focused more greatly on his higher purpose, took to social media channels and began blogging to reach an even larger audience. He also took out an old manuscript he had written about his life, which further developed into Beyond ADHD.
Emmerson is a passionate advocate for mental health, and fostering a deeper understanding beyond the accepted symptoms that have led to more than 30 million North Americans taking ADHD medication. He seeks to come up with solutions that return society to a place of compassion, humanity, community and empathy. This perspective forms the structure of Beyond ADHD.
Emmerson will be embarking on a public speaking and signing tour in Fall 2017 to draw greater awareness to the diagnostic and societal issues of ADHD, to create greater public discourse in North America and worldwide, and to roll out the many forward-thinking solutions that he and many of the world’s foremost experts on behavioral, mental health and neurological issues and conditions have been discussing and beginning to utilize.
Jeff and his wife, Aimee, Founder & CEO of a globally recognized digital marketing firm, make their home in Ontario, Canada. He was a star youth hockey player in Canada for many years, and later, worked as a security guard and in various positions.
His website can be found at http://www.JeffEmmerson.com.

ABOUT CO-AUTHOR ROBERT YEHLING
 
Co-Author and Independent Publisher Book Award winner Robert Yehling is the author of 12 books and the co-author or ghostwriter of eight others. Beyond ADHD is his second co-authored book in the mental health field, following on the heels of Just Add Water (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt), the biography of autistic surfing star Clay Marzo, which was a finalist for the 2015 Dolly Gray Literature Award. His new novel, Voices (Open Books Press) is one of the most anticipated music-themed novels of 2017. Other titles include The Champion’s Way and When We Were The Boys. Celebrating 40 years as a professional journalist and author in 2017, Yehling is also a five-time Boston marathoner and the head cross country coach at Carlsbad (CA) High School, his alma mater.
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About the Book

Title: The Peacock Door

Author: Wanda Kay Knight

Genre: Middle Grade Fantasy

In a magical tale of adventure, eight cousins sneak through forbidden treehouse doors, only to find themselves separated from each other and lost in strange worlds. In their quests to return home, they must unravel mysteries, escape snares and villains, find one another, and search for the elusive Oracle. The Peacock Door is a rich story of camaraderie, loyalty, love, and determination with a bit whimsy sprinkled throughout.

 

Author Bio

Wanda Kay Knight lives in the Pacific Northwest, teaches literature, strives really hard to keep up with her adventurous/competitive family, makes things out of yarn (mainly unique hats), enjoys collecting pretty rocks, and writes a lot.

Word from the Author:

I have to admit that I am not an organized person—not at all.  I keep my house clean and I like things tidy, but my car is a mess and I tend to get caught up in my everything else instead of doing what I need to do. Then, I become a furious rush of activity and make everything appear like it was clean and sparkling all along.

Now, the truth is that I feel really good when all my tasks and goals are finished.  I love it when my house is clean. I love it when I have finished enough exercise to keep myself from feeling guilty. I absolutely love it when I have finally organized that new knitting project and the yarn and the needles are sitting beside the couch begging me to continue the project every time I sit down. And once I get started, I have a hard time stopping.

Well, it’s the same with writing.  Once I get myself to sit down and write, I have a hard time putting it down.  I love it. I come away from a writing session or even a writing marathon with a sense of relief and excitement that I have accomplished a goal. And furthermore, if I could just stay awake all night and keep writing, I would do it (until the next morning when I have to start the process of getting started all over again).

For any others out there like me, I have one suggestion that seems to work. The one thing that kept me consistently writing was meeting with a group of would-be authors once a week with the specific goal that we have to read something—just a page or so—but something each week. After we read, we accept some criticism, listen to the others, and come back in one week prepared to it all over again.

Sometimes in those weeks between meetings, I would only get a couple of pages finished. Other times, the story would take over and I would write furiously and get pages and pages done. But, that once a week meeting really did force me to do something each week, and that was enough to build on until I finished. I found that I needed to be held accountable once a week—every other week did not work.

And, if you hate meetings (as I do), and avoid them at all costs; you should know that for some reason, this particular type of meeting with a few other people constructed around a defined goal was quite pleasant with just the right amount of motivation.

And so, as I begin the process of writing book two, I know that it is once again time to find a couple more would-be authors and once again meet once a week.  For me, it is bonding, creative, and motivating experience, and without it, book two just might not get written for a long, long time.

Links

Website: www.thepeacockdoor.com

Youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VAx9k2_2eU

Youtube video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVRFqy5_hko&t=30s

Email address:    wandakayknight@thepeacockdoor.com

My personal email:  wkayknight@gmail.com

 

 

 

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Book Excerpts

Grizzles and Lola:

He hobbled and wobbled when he walked as though sharp tacks protruded from the floor; his shoulders were hunched, and his head bent forward; he was ancient, no doubt about it—he was an ancient, old man. Giant folds and wrinkles covered his face; his white hair fell in large loopy whorls about his head, and they might have redeemed the face if it were not for the huge bulbous nose and the tiny squinty eyes. But the part they noticed the most was the fingers; gnarled, wrinkled fingers with long, yellowed talons for fingernails.

He twisted around and snarled at them; his raspy voice interrupted by his own heavy, noisy breathing, “Can’t you see that I am busy? I don’t like people, and I especially don’t like children. I ate the last child that came here.” He picked his tooth with a dirty fingernail. “What do you want?”

Icy Stone Steps:

A full moon had risen in the cobalt sky casting a bluish glow over the icy, snow-swept mountainside, illuminating the entire hamlet. Icicles dangled from the steep, high pitched roofs of cottages nestling here and there, jumbled together at odd angles wherever the mountainside allowed. Jagged, ice covered stone steps, cut into the mountainside, curved up and around the icicle laden cottages until finally reaching a summit—a high, flat plateau. And it was on that plateau—high overhead and overshadowing the village—that a Citadel, a snow-covered stone fortress—overwhelming with its massive and imposing presence—rose up out of the mountain as though etched and carved from the rock itself.

They stood exhaling puffs of frosty mist; entranced by the ethereal beauty of their snow laden destination and shocked by the terrible price they must pay to get there. Finally realizing the price for warmth and comfort for the night so they would have an audience with the Oracle tomorrow was a midnight climb up jagged icy stone steps tonight. It was foreboding and frigid; it was ethereal and sublime.

“We can do this,” Eleanor whispered. She slipped over and laid one arm on Ivan’s shoulder and the other on Tilly’s. Addison silently reached down grabbing Brody’s hand—and he let her do it. Claire moved over to stand beside Levi who had taken Esmé back into his own arms. He smiled a grim smile, and then he turned, planting his foot on the first jagged, icy stone step as each of the cousins formed a silent line behind him, breathing in the cold, frosty air, and preparing to follow.

The Citadel:

Nothing, nothing at all, not the ancient tales of lore, nor the fables of old could have prepared the cousins for the imposing power or the exquisite beauty of the Citadel. It rose up out of the snow like an elaborate ice sculpture, with belfries and pinnacled towers climbing into the clouds and reaching higher than the peaks themselves.

There were arches and turrets and cupolas, and parapets and round keeps with lanterns flickering in spade shaped windows, and all of it as pristine and intricate as though carved from ice and decorated with snow.

The castle was hewn from the mountain itself, forged from the stone so that the posterior of the castle was fused into the rock face of the mountain. A high, thick stone wall with ramparts and battlements like the strongholds of old, curved around the castle, surrounding it like a giant horseshoe with the massive gatehouse setting the center and the two prongs fusing back into the mountain.

The Doors:

The others smiled, nodding innocently. Gramma laughed and turned to go out the peacock door; but, as soon as she grabbed the handle, she pivoted back facing them.

A bizarre expression clouded her face. “Whatever you do,” she said, “Whatever you do—listen to me!” She pointed her finger at each of them, and after staring directly into each set of eyes, she continued. “There are journeys and treasures beyond those doors,” she said, “There are long forgotten wisps of alchemy and lost keys and crystals and mirrors of illusions; but, you must not go out any of those doors. Her voice lowered as she leaned forward. “I gotta tell you—those keys are especially hard to find. You think it’s easy; but, nooo, it is not! Everything is fine as long as you don’t go out any doors except the peacock door, right here. This is the door to use—only this one.” She patted the door.

Her voice lowered even more—almost to a whisper. “You see, kiddies, even if you’re ready to search for the keys, it’s real hard to—um—well—to—to feel them—to experience them.” She rubbed the fingers of each hand together, rotating the thumb around the fingertips. “Yeeessss, to feel them; it’s just not the time to feel them. That’s the hard part. Do you understand?”

 

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