Category: Life

Everyday Heroes – Inspiration Behind the Novel

~ Melissa Bianco ~ Leave a comment

I always get so excited when I finish something.  When I wrote Real Life, I wanted to do something fun and light with lots of humor and (admittedly) some pretty ridiculous situations.  Still, I love a happy ending so all’s well that ends well, right?

The idea for Everyday Heroes actually came from a ridiculous (what is up with me and ridiculous?) story I told my girlfriends on a sleepover at my friend’s house when I was in high school.  I’m sure none of them remember it.  It had something to do with the heroine saving a guy freezing in the woods in some winter wonderland. She drags him back to her cabin, hops in a sleeping bag naked with him, and saves his life.  (And stuff.)

This is NOT that story!!!

Having said that (loudly), the idea of saving a life without even thinking about the repercussions is interesting to me.  I also had a few goals in mind.  I wanted to:

  • Write a book about a woman who has faith.  I didn’t want to get all preachy and annoying about it, I just wanted it to be a natural extension of who the character is.  Kind of like me.  (Except she’s a doctor.)
  • Write about people who, on the surface, seem to have the perfect life, but behind the smile, are secrets.  No one’s life is perfect.  Ever.  At all.  Ever.
  • Have a subtle heroic theme throughout.

Maybe it’s because I worked on a game about heroes (and villains – trust me, there is one).  I think people who work in service to others (military, medicine, teaching, etc.) are already heroes.   There were many people I met while I was working on City of Heroes who had some pretty rough challenges (medical, personal, you name it) thrown their way and that made a mark on me.  I wanted to say thank you in a small way.

Also, since my experience working in hospice, I have come to the realization that the average person cannot survive in this challenging field.  It’s too hard.  Only a special person made of unique awesomeness, who is willing to look deeper than a terminal diagnosis and all the challenges that come with it (physical, mental, spiritual, social)  – and still perform their job with excellence and genuine compassion day in and day out – can.  I’m so proud of them, I can’t even tell you.

Grace

I decided to make Grace a doctor.  And a bit of a Doogie Howser.  Look it up if that name is meaningless to you.  She’s kind of awkward. over-achiever.  Imagine, if you will, that this woman who has succeeded at her career so wonderfully and so quickly (years ahead of most), rushes into a marriage with (she thinks) “the perfect guy”.  Except he’s not.  She spends the next 20 years a victim of physical and verbal abuse.  The book actually starts after she’s left that situation and is trying to get on with her life.

Wait!  What the heck happened to that cabin in the woods with the snow and the hypothermia?!  Yeah, sorry about that.

John

Okay, now we have John.  He comes from a great family, a military background, and over the years has worked his way up the military ladder.  Tragedy strikes.  He loses his memory and he loses his voice.  He goes from being a man defined by his career to coming home (in his mind) “broken.”  Rather than face these challenges, he runs away from his family, friends, and the world in general.  I’m not a military expert or a medical expert, but I did want to look at how the world just kind of moves on without you if you let it.

So I take two lives of people who serve so magnificently in their careers and they both get punched in the gut.  Thankfully, that’s just where the story starts…  Challenge and heartbreak is where heroes are forged.  They push through, they fall, they slide, but eventually they get back up, and push some more.  I love that notion.  Strength and character.  Integrity.  Honor.

This book’s subject matter is definitely a darker path than the popcorn and bubblegum of Real Life.  Of course there is still humor and silliness, this is a romance novel after all, not a documentary.

I really hope you enjoy it.

~Melissa

P.S.  My next book isn’t even a Romance.  It’ll be something completely different.  Stretch out those horizons!

I Love My Body

~ Melissa Bianco ~ 1 Comment

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”       (Psalm 139:14)

 

I love my eyes.  They see the beauty of the natural world around me and guide my path every day.

I love my nose.  It smells delightful aromas such as flowers, freshly baked bread, and wet grass after a rain shower.

I love my mouth.  It has been perfectly designed to enjoy food that sustains, comforts, excites and delights me.

I love my skin.  It protects me from the elements and holds me together.

I love my voice.  It is the perfect instrument to speak love, truth, encouragement, wisdom, and humor.

I love my breasts.  Though mine have never nursed a baby, I know there are countless women who have been granted this miraculous gift.

I love my heart.  It beats daily to worship my Creator, share His gospel, love my friends and family, and it compels me to feel compassion.

I love my hands.  They were skillfully crafted to allow me to write, create, greet, fix, play, doodle, and speak without words.

I love my stomach.  It proves to me that I am well nourished.

I love my arms.  They have the ability to support the weak, hold the devastated, motivate the lazy, and push open doors of opportunity.

I love my legs.  They carry me faithfully to any destination I choose.

I love my feet.  They direct me away from unhealthy situations or guide me to help others in need.

My body is perfect.

The Octopus Homocide

~ Melissa Bianco ~ Leave a comment

The title makes no sense.  I get it.  It’ll come clear later.

So, deciding to save some money on salon bills, I went to the pharmacy and picked up some Nice ‘n Easy to dye my hair.  I haven’t dyed my own hair since I was 30 years old and gainfully employed.  Looking back, I realize why.

So this is what happened:

I picked up the color that I thought matched my current hair color.  Went home and dyed my hair.  Okay, that’s the gist of it.  Here’s what I learned (or forgotten):

  • Don’t dye your hair in a sport bra to “save a t-shirt”
  • Use gloves when washing your hair
  • Check the back of your head before you’re “sure” you’re done
  • Methodical application not willy-nilly squeeze-n-pray

Okay, so a few lessons learned.  First off, I forgot how incredibly tedious dyeing my own hair is.  It took a long time and I couldn’t just sit there and read a book. I had to do it all myself and my arms got sore and I was getting dye all over my face and my neck and my back.  I freaked out thinking I’d completely dyed my shoulders and down my spine (later I realized it was just my tattoo – which one day I’ll get rid of, a story for another time).

Then I’m all, “Is it done yet?  Did I squish it all over enough?”  (The answer to that question, in hindsight, is a resounding NO.)

Then I look at the sink and it’s covered in purple.  And the walls.  And the floor.  And the mirror.  And now the cat is making his way towards the bathroom to see what’s what so I gotta slam the door on him lest I poison or dye him.

Finally, it’s time to wash this stuff out.  The directions say to lather your hair before rinsing the dye out.  I’m like, okay.  I can do that.  So I’m lathering up a storm, not realizing that my entire shower now looks like I got in a knife fight with an octopus.  There’s purple ink all over the shower.  I mean, if it was red dye, it would have looked like the pig blood scene from Carrie.  

I’m shocked and appalled and thinking, “Oh crap!  Ron is going to see this and fuh-reak out!!!  So I sacrifice one of our towels and I’m frantically trying to wipe up the shower, oh hey, and there’s more dye spilling down my face and arms because I didn’t think to – oh, I don’t know – completely rinse it out before cleaning the shower?  So that happened.

Finally, I get the shower clean-ish.  There are still a few drip lines on the wall but I’m hoping he won’t notice  (Or read this post.)

After that, it’s hurry up and wait to see how badly I messed it up.  Not too bad.  If I relegate myself to dark rooms.  There’s patches of grey, the top doesn’t match the bottom, and I got a crash course in dying your fingernails, but at least I saved money.  (Except that I’ll probably have to go to the salon next week to get it fixed.)

All in all…hair is free and regardless of what I keep doing to it, it keeps growing back, so all this will be but an amusing cautionary tale my husband warns me about when next I decide to dye it myself.

I do still have that second box…

(And, no, I’m not posting a picture.)