I think it’s time I tell you a little more about me. Neither of my parents finished high school, still both them eventually got a college degree. It wasn’t easy. They were young when they got married, 16 for mom, 19 for dad. They worked hard to support the children they loved, finally buying a converted hunting cabin, they turned into a home. We knew how much they loved us. We saw their struggle, the complaints they never said. I can still hear my mother singing, my father playing his guitar. With my father working two jobs, mom going full time, they were able to get a bigger house. My short story, No Green-eyed Monster, published in Green, an ARIA Anthology, explains how I felt about the new house. I started working full time at 15, continuing through out my Junior and Senior High school years. I was seventeen when I met the man I was to marry. He worked full time as a maintenance man while going to college. Our exciting dates included watching him snore at the drive in, helping him clean offices (dusting while he vacuumed) and doing the typing for his college papers. We saved every penny we could and when he completed his degree in Electrical Engineering in four years, quite an accomplishment working full time, he got an apartment, we got married and began our new lives. Our first house, a small raised ranch, was the first house any in his extended family had been able to buy. We hoped to start a family. It took almost eight years before we had our son, our only child. I was finally able to earn my degree, graduating on his first birthday. He was four when the doctors found out I had a brain tumor. I wasn’t as scared as you might think. I was determined. My son was three, the doctor – the third best brain surgeon in the world – made me feel as sure as anyone could that I would survive. During my recovery, we had to keep my son in day care and there was very little I could do. My head hurt with each movement and I couldn’t chew anything harder than ice cream. It could have been worse. I could, however, sit, That was when I wrote Dark Night of The Soul. About my desire to survive, how important it is to be seen as who you really are, I hoped people would recognize the bit of themselves in its many characters. I tried to get it published, then life once again intervened and the hand written book was put in a box undiscovered until I retired. My husband’s job moved to Rhode Island, of course my son and I went with him. I became a certified teacher assistant, the best job I ever had. Retiring from that job I finally published Dark Night, the first of 8 books (I’m hoping there’ll be more). I get to travel to the places I read about. As a kid, on a good week I read three books, two if I had a lot of homework. Marriage and motherhood brought the number down to one, when I’m writing it’s down to none. I’m still married to the man I met when I was seventeen. We’ve had our problems but loving each other was never one of them. My son is soon to be married. The number of days I’ve lived is longer than those I have left. I hope those who read this see how important are the people we love to the people we become. Face your challenges, you are stronger than you think. This is written with love, and a hope you all get to move beyond your Dark Night, whatever it may be.


It’s early but I’m doing my best to think ahead.


Coming on September 24th is the Exeter Fall Festival. For people who like to have fun and shop from local (Rhode Island) craftsman, this is the place to go. There’s carnival games, a Magic show, blue grass music, face painting, and lots of talented vendors and local authors. We have two food trucks and the best cupcakes I’ve ever had. I’ll eat what doesn’t sell. Though I don’t sell books there, as I man the pumpkin painting venue, (the drought has put this event in peril), I will bring a few of my books. The festival is held at Yawgoo Valley Ski Area, Exeter, RI Come have fun, check out the crafts and the terrific RI authors. Feel free to stop by and say Hello.


Once again I’ll be selling and smiling at the RICC, it’s always a pleasure to go and see the wonderful vendors and shoppers who make this such a fun event. It’s being held November 4th, 5th and 6th. I’ll be bringing my books, including, the updated version. I hope you’ll stop by, visit me and the other talented authors.


It will be held at the Crowne Plaza in Warwick, RI. Santa will join the many authors selling and signing their original works. There will be guest speakers, raffles, panels and presentations. Held on December 3rd, it’s a great way for late Christmas shoppers to begin and early shoppers to cross off the last people on their list. It opens at 10:00, ending at 5:00. I hope to see you there.

Though I’m not asking you to come to all the events, I’m hoping you can make it to one of them. There’s something special to be found in every one, all being different in their own way, but each one a truly special and enjoyable way to spend your day.


Todays news

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. I’ve managed to make myself busy. Sister World 3 is an ambitious work and I’m working diligently on completing it in time for ComicCon. There’s only one problem. When I finish, I’ll have to say goodbye to some people (My characters) that I’ve grown to love. How can I say goodbye to Kahill and Becarra, how do their friends say goodbye. I’ll miss Spirit everyday. They’ll have so much to do after I say the End, but it will be time for them to live in your imaginations. I’ve had a lot of help with the details, the world I’ve dreamt of could, may even exist. If I was given the opportunity to find out, I’d take it. If you read the books, you’ll know why.


It’s never a good thing for me to write when I’m tired and there’s a chance I’ll want to delete this post in the morning. I was/am thinking about the things that make us who we are, why we write. I was a lonely child. When my sister went to school it felt like I lost my best friend. Then I went to school. I used to make up stories. The number 5 had a crush on 6, but 7 was her boyfriend. I wrote in cursive, making the words prettier than what they meant. My first children were my words. I lived in a time when girls were just becoming more than a decoration. In my dreams I was a person with power. That meant I was a man. Then I met the man I would love, marry and the one I still love. Like everything in life, it’s had moments of great joy, mixed in with everything else. Then there was the brain tumor. For a brief time, I thought I would die, then I decided I would be there for my son, he was four. For all of my life I’ll remember waking up after the nine hour surgery. I was awake but I wouldn’t reply to the doctor when he tried to see if I was okay. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to live but I needed time to decide who was going to wake up. What I learned, is most likely the same thing many people learn in difficult times. I am strong. A stronger person woke up, a person who no longer hated being a woman, a person ready to face being less successful than she had hoped to be. My books may never be the best sellers the fourteen year old me had dreamed they would be, but they’re mine and, grammar not withstanding, I’m proud of what I’m trying to say. Most importantly “Live your life. We all have scars. It’s how we live with them that defines us.” Good night.

Meet and Greet at Bank Square Books & Savoy Bookshop and Cafe

Debra Zannelli
6:05 AM (6 hours ago)
to me

Sunday was quiet. I sold enough books to make the trip worthwhile but most importantly I meet my old boss. I worked for her for many years. She was so kind when I found out I had a brain tumor, helping me get permission to return to work part time while keeping my position after already having a two month recovery period. She was there when I had my first seizure and applauded my decision to retire when I was moving to RI. At my retirement party she told me it was time for me to chase my dream, publish the book I wrote while recovering and start writing again. Sometimes you need a gentle push and a reminder, it’s never too late. I can’t say enough about how great it was to see her again.