Or Proof # 2?
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Before I wrote MASADA’S MARINE, I, like most Americans, never gave much thought to our American service men and women who serve and sacrifice their lives so that I can bask in the California sunshine, sip a $4.00 Carmel Frappuccino from Starbucks and discuss the latest episode of Biggest Loser or Dancing With The Stars.
When the subject of our military arose, I proudly stated my patriotic views and gave a blanket, but silent, thank you to all who lost their lives. My heart twisted in sadness every Veterans Day and Memorial Day. I consider myself an average American.
When I decided to write Masada’s Marine, I imagined it as a nice story about a puppy named Masada, who grows up to become a service dog and changes the lives of two men. The first man began his life as a patriotic boy who grows up, starts his own family and becomes a Marine. The young man has everything to live for until he comes home with PTSD and loses it all, even his will to live.
The second man began his life as the son of a drug addicted mother and only knew how to struggle for survival and exist inside a life of crime. The young man ends up in prison with nothing to live for.
Like many authors, as they pen their story, the characters they create take on a life of their own. At some point during their hours of research and interviews the story became electric with emotions, alive like a beautiful sunrise and terrifying like the firefight that promises only one victor. As I learned more about the invisible disease, PTSD, the heartbeat of the story began to pulse with emotions out of my control.
Masada, the service dog in this story, changed not only the characters’ lives, but my life as well. I am no longer the silent American. I hope Masada will change your life, too.
Every hour a veteran takes his own life.
COMING IN JULY 2014