Author: ProudDaughter

By Posted on Posted in commentary, Food for Thought, General Interest, Psychology Tagged with , , , , ,

Where is your cell phone right now? If you’re working, creating, or relaxing, it shouldn’t be nearby unless you actually need it. I’m writing my May 2nd blog, so my phone is in the family room—out of sight, out of mind, and no interruptions.

Your cell phone is a distraction. Period. It robs you of your focus. How often do you think about it, even if it’s not currently ringing or pinging for your attention? Maybe I should check it right now, right? Do you pick it up to see if anyone has texted you? Ah, now it has your full attention. So, you turn it over and put it down. Damn, you’ve lost your train of thought. The sad thing is, how many times during the day does this occur? Add all those up, and you’ll soon discover how much time you’ve lost. You’re trying to multitask, and guess what? It doesn’t work.

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By Posted on Posted in Books, Publishing, Writing Tagged with , , , , , , ,

If you self-publish, be aware that you have multiple choices. No longer do you have to feel limited to use Amazon (KDP) Publishing. While I still use KDP for print and eBook, I also incorporate Ingram Spark and recently, Draft2Draft.

Never heard of Draft 2 Draft Digital? Here’s a few things that make take them over the top.

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By Posted on Posted in History, My Creations Tagged with , , , , , , ,

Many years ago, I felt inspired to write about the memories of my father, and my search for his WWII history. Below is the revised version of that document.

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates – Marion J Chard

Most of you will be familiar with the popular quote from the movie Forrest Gump, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.”  Well, it also rang true for me.

I don’t remember the first time that well-worn sepia-toned box with the raised gold filigree and the words “Bunte – Chicago – Mi Choice Chocolates” appeared in my life. Still, it seems it was always a part of my world. The objects within held a strange and constant fascination for a young girl trying desperately to hold on to the fleeting war memories relayed by her dad to his loving family and friends. The rectangular box was never far from my side and was kept in a nightstand as I moved from house to house and city to city. Occasionally, I would sit on the floor, carefully remove the tattered lid, and lovingly lay each item before me. Maybe I was hoping a name would mysteriously appear on the back of a photo, giving me some clue as to who these young men were who stood next to my father, smiling back at me. Maybe it was a source of comfort and a way for me to try and hold on to a part of my life, for my father had passed away when I was only twelve. Maybe it was all those things and more. However, the one thing I did not know and could not know was the critical role the fraying box would play later in my life.

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