Category Archives: Kristina Marie Morgan

Today is July 24, 2017. I am alive and well.

So, I need your help. I have to date received 20 rejections from agents regarding my second book, Emma. I rewrote the query in the hope of making it stronger. Below is my new version. I would love it if I could get a yay or nay from you; nay you wouldn’t read the book based on the query, or yay, you would. Thanking you ahead of time. me

Emma, the Giraffe at the End of the Hall follows my book Mind Without a Home: A Memoir of Schizophrenia. Kirkus review called Mind Without a Home “inventive, jaggedly lyrical, and disturbing.”

Emma is my continued journey away from the crippling effects of schizophrenia. Unlike years ago, I am addicted to life. Life shows up in good form and in bad. The dark isn’t a terrible thing; it’s simply a moment without batteries. My mind is treating me well; dust stops at my ears. I am moving like a swan in sneakers without webbed feet. I am a little beetle surfing the air on a green leaf.

I make a home outside the psychiatric hospital with a lover, Guy, and two Shih Tzus. Seven years go by, and I remain hospital free.

I lose the lover and dogs without losing my mind. Guy was good to me for as long as he could be.

The book comes at a time when people with mental illness are targeted in the media after  hellacious acts on their part. The percentage of those challenged with mental illness committing a crime is really low. My account lets people know that someone living with schizophrenia can be a sane and productive member of society with no tendency toward violent behavior.

The book is imagistic, metaphorical, not always lucid but lucid in its own way; the hat covers my grandmother’s head allowing the air to slide along her nose. I still hear voices no one else hears. I still think things like there is a plate in my head that I need to dial into. And the other realities still exist.

Today, I am comfortable single with many friends to be responsible to. I am loved beyond the edge of language. A great sense of peace occupies my days.

I would be happy to send you more, or the entire manuscript, to help you decide if it is for you.

That is the end of the query. Someone told me I needed to drop one of these two sentences,”I am moving like a swan in sneakers without webbed feet” or “I am a beetle surfing the air on a green leaf.” Which one do you think I should cut out?

Again, thank you for your help.

Kristina

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Today is August 6, 2014. I am alive and well.

My schizophrenia has kicked back in. It is a small child who needs my attention and grabs my hand. The voices are telling me to say very inappropriate things at work; things that would get me fired. I very much need my job. I’ve been with the library five years in October.

The small child is not of me, but is of other. She tugs at my hand so softly that no one else can see my hand move. No one else can see her. I do know this. I see her as a shadow and know in bright light she will be gone. And she is, she is gone when I pull the blinds in my study, allowing light to force its way upon me. Light forces its way upon me when there is something in my life I don’t want to look at.

I don’t want to look at the fact that I miss Guy. I want to keep him in my life forever, but from a distance. Who says a person can’t be friends with their ex? But Guy is more that just an ex. Do I want to have friends in my life who lie to me? The answer is no, but then I think, Guy is different. I am okay loving him even though he lies to me.

This line of thinking will not set well with my friends who want the best for me. For now, I bring an umbrella with me. The umbrella can only work for so long to shade me before light breaks through, and I act accordingly.

Today is August 2, 2014. I am alive and well.

I’m allowing grief to paralyze me. I am sleeping too much and writing too little. But I am not going to have a break down and wind up in the hospital, and I definitely am not going to drink over his leaving me. He has been gone for three and a half months; one and a half months of this time I have known he was never coming back. It still baffles me that he let his lack of courage influence his decisions. I mean, who leaves with just a back pack and nothing else? Who gives everything they’ve owned for years, to include socks and jock straps, to the Salvation Army? Thirteen plastic garbage bags later, and he did.

Life has changed radically since he told me he was never coming back. My friends and God have offered me the strength of their shoulders and the curve of their feet. I have not walked alone and I am not bent over with too much to bare. My health is better than it’s ever been.

I seek solace in God and am offered vastness. Grief is only a single stone on a sheet of water. My friend gave me a quartz which is heavy in my hand. Four pounds of crystal. I float on the sheet of water, the crystal on my belly and am lit be the sun, and later shadowed by the moon. My love for all is complete in this minute. No one has taken anything from me. I am simply offered myself, and myself is good, is strong, has vision that will outlive the sting of a failed relationship.