By Tracy L. Karol
I hear voices. Music, even. Not inside my head, like a song you can't get out of your mind. Actual music that sounds like it's coming from the next room, like someone left the TV or stereo on just a bit too loud and you want to yell at them to TURN IT DOWN, except nothing is actually on. No one is talking, "Boot Scootin' Boogie" is not actually on the TV, I can tear through the house like a madwoman (and I have) to find myself completely alone, still hearing the sounds that are not there. It's literally all in my head.
No, nothing ever tells me to kill people, or that the CIA is spying on me through the walls. There is a perfectly good scientific explanation. I'm not crazy. I have epilepsy.
My temporal lobes fire off excess neurons and cause an electrical storm in my brain. Sometimes this causes me to hear things that aren't there. Or smell odors no one else smells. Even see things in bizarre ways, or have intense moments of strange emotions that you would never understand unless you've had a seizure. Because that's what all of these are - seizures. Not convulsions, though I have those too, at times. But seizures that are much more common. Nonconvulsive epileptic seizures.
The many drugs I've tried over the years have sometimes helped, sometimes made things much worse. The device I have implanted in my chest, which shocks my brain ever 20 seconds, lessened my daily convulsions. But epilepsy has changed my life and the lives of those around me. No, I'm not crazy, but sometimes I feel like I am. The seizures (technically partial, complex and simple) come in so many forms and attack me so often that I can't work, I can't drive, sometimes I can't get out of bed.
March 26 is Purple Day, the International Epilepsy Awareness Day. Please take time to learn more about this terrible brain disorder. I will help you. This small entry is part of a book I'm writing on my life with a seizure disorder.
No, I'm not crazy, I have epilepsy. But sometimes, I admit, I feel like I'm losing my mind.
Showing posts with label "Tracy l. Karol writer". Show all posts
Showing posts with label "Tracy l. Karol writer". Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Another Great Rapp
Another Great Rapp, Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Kill Shot (Mitch Rapp) (Kindle Edition)
I don't see how anyone can give Flynn less than 5 stars on any of his work. I've read all his books, most several times. I've enjoyed "Kill Shot" and "American Assassin" because we readers get a chance to explore the psyche of our evovling hero, Mitch Rapp, as he becomes the go-to operative he is "now." Flynn also is able to flesh out secondary characters. My only complaint might be the abrupt ending, but I did read the book in a day and wanted more (I'm reading some older novels again). If you're new to the series, AA or this book would be good places to start, and I have to wonder if the films will begin with this sequence. (Any ideas on the actor?) I thoroughly enjoyed the writing style, the plot, the characters, and everything else Vince Flynn did here. And may I wish him a full recovery as well! Bravo! For plot details, please see my blog. Tracy L. Karol
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Thursday, November 18, 2010
What Kind of Writer Am I?
By Tracy L. Karol
I love fiction. I love reading it, I love creating it in my mind...I can't wait to pen that first thriller. In fact, I've got an entire series outlined based on the characters in the first book. I've even written the first few chapters.
But I won't lie. Nonfiction is easier to write. First, of course, you aren't creating an entire world out of your imagination. You are dealing with facts. It may be a book that almost reads like fiction, but still the basis is true.
That's where my mind was tonight when I thought, again, about my former jobs. There are crimes, cases, scenes, events that linger with me. Some even haunt me.
I was lucky enough to have a very satisfying career before I became disabled. First I was a print reporter, covering crime, health and education. I wrote mostly "hard news" stories on the crime beat, and features on health. I won some awards. I have a stack of cards from people thanking me for the job I did. The police respected me and the feeling was mutual. Sadly, the pay was horrendous. I soon applied for a job at the metro police department, basically doing the opposite of what I had been. I would go to crime scenes and deal with the media so the detectives didn't have to. I didn't expect to get the job, but it was about triple the income so I went for it.
Obviously I got that one, and I worked closely with detectives for years, seeing the worst of humanity. There's much more to the story, but I'll save it for the book.
That job changed me in a very fundamental way. I never became hard, though I did learn to use gallows humor, like everyone else. Still, there are nights when I can't sleep, thinking of the things I now know; things branded into my soul. After I left and my family suffered our own brutal crime, it seemed every crime I had been to tore through me at once. I saw them not from a police perspective, but from a victim's family. And I wonder, even today, what I might have said to make things worse for those families.
I am a strange mixture. I've reported on crimes. I've been to countless crime scenes and worked with detectives to keep the media informed (or not). And worst of all, I've gotten that phone call that someone I love was murdered.
As I stated, there are scenes that linger, that haunt me. Perhaps the best way to face them is to quit hiding. And so that gave me the idea for a new book. Obviously, I will maintain victim privacy. But there are some stories that just must be told. Will they make sense? I doubt it. But I remember my boss telling me that criminals don't think like us. Even the accidents, the most awful suicides...perhaps sharing them will help someone, or be a warning. At the least, I promise you won't be bored.
Please read this book, when published, not with excitement, but with the reverence due the topic. I lived this. It was my life, and in many ways still haunts me.
So...that's the story of how my second book will come to life. Another nonfiction, but vastly different from the first. Crime, true to life.
I love fiction. I love reading it, I love creating it in my mind...I can't wait to pen that first thriller. In fact, I've got an entire series outlined based on the characters in the first book. I've even written the first few chapters.
But I won't lie. Nonfiction is easier to write. First, of course, you aren't creating an entire world out of your imagination. You are dealing with facts. It may be a book that almost reads like fiction, but still the basis is true.
That's where my mind was tonight when I thought, again, about my former jobs. There are crimes, cases, scenes, events that linger with me. Some even haunt me.
I was lucky enough to have a very satisfying career before I became disabled. First I was a print reporter, covering crime, health and education. I wrote mostly "hard news" stories on the crime beat, and features on health. I won some awards. I have a stack of cards from people thanking me for the job I did. The police respected me and the feeling was mutual. Sadly, the pay was horrendous. I soon applied for a job at the metro police department, basically doing the opposite of what I had been. I would go to crime scenes and deal with the media so the detectives didn't have to. I didn't expect to get the job, but it was about triple the income so I went for it.
Obviously I got that one, and I worked closely with detectives for years, seeing the worst of humanity. There's much more to the story, but I'll save it for the book.
That job changed me in a very fundamental way. I never became hard, though I did learn to use gallows humor, like everyone else. Still, there are nights when I can't sleep, thinking of the things I now know; things branded into my soul. After I left and my family suffered our own brutal crime, it seemed every crime I had been to tore through me at once. I saw them not from a police perspective, but from a victim's family. And I wonder, even today, what I might have said to make things worse for those families.
I am a strange mixture. I've reported on crimes. I've been to countless crime scenes and worked with detectives to keep the media informed (or not). And worst of all, I've gotten that phone call that someone I love was murdered.
As I stated, there are scenes that linger, that haunt me. Perhaps the best way to face them is to quit hiding. And so that gave me the idea for a new book. Obviously, I will maintain victim privacy. But there are some stories that just must be told. Will they make sense? I doubt it. But I remember my boss telling me that criminals don't think like us. Even the accidents, the most awful suicides...perhaps sharing them will help someone, or be a warning. At the least, I promise you won't be bored.
Please read this book, when published, not with excitement, but with the reverence due the topic. I lived this. It was my life, and in many ways still haunts me.
So...that's the story of how my second book will come to life. Another nonfiction, but vastly different from the first. Crime, true to life.
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