Disability Begets Ability

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It’s been quite a while since I reblogged, and this post is the best way to start it again. PB Author Tara Lazar talks about the greatest secret of all… very inspiring!

Writing for Kids (While Raising Them)

I rarely talk about my disability here, because really, who wants to talk about that ugly word? It suggests that we CANNOT. Others have decided to label me “disabled,” not me. From the parking spaces I gladly pull into (who doesn’t want to be right by the front door?), to the forms I fill out, I’m reminded of this label constantly. I accept this label but this label doesn’t define me. It’s the last ingredient in the complex recipe that is me. It’s there, but it’s not important. My cake will rise without it. (Oh boy, that’s corny. But hey, that’s me.)

goodluckcow Me and my cane with the “Good Luck Cow” in Brandon, Vermont, May 2014.

Multiple Sclerosis hit me in late 2009, just as my career was catching fire (excuse the blatant allusion to Suzanne Collins). In fact, when I was being interviewed by literary agents, I was on an anti-anxiety medication…

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