Karen L. McClendon

I've self published two books. Seems I've wanted to write all my life. Instead I got married had four love girls. Putting my dreams on the back burner. No I tossed them out the window. My proffession became full time mother and house wife. Never looking back. One day I found myself in a five bedroom house all by myself. Husband checked out and kids moved on. What was I to do. I down sized. To a one bedroom apartment with nothing but me. I slept on the floor for a year saving every dime I could while working in a true sweat factory as an inspector of dance ware. I hurt myself they fired me. While I lay on my couch with my knee in bandages. I gave myself permission to do what I've wanted to do sense I could write the alphabet. I dived in head first not knowing the first thing about anything. I didn't even know if I would be able to get published. When I lay eyes on my first book I got some news that made it impossible to enjoy, while still reeling from the death of my sister, mother, and aunt. I was told I may have cancer nothing please me. I kept writing it was my medicine. My joy with That Year 2015 was bill. With Fiftyish in my hand I could feel my whole body quake with excitment. I'd done it I was a writer. An Author in all its Glory. It took me a year to realize that I wanted people to read my work. Which lead me to allauthor. My story isn't finished yet.