"Nomenplasty" - NOW IT CAN BE TOLD!

"Nomenplasty" - plastic surgery of a name (a word I invented)

nomen - name, esp.in ancient Rome, the second name

plasty - the process of shaping and forming, often surgically, ie., plastic surgery

OK, here's the big news.... I'm changing my name for publishing purposes. Or more accurately, reshaping my name. Instead of "First, Initial, Last"--still my legal signature--I have started submitting with "First, Great-grandma's Maiden Name, Last" and asking that I be published under that name.

Below are the reason for the change, and for that specific change.

1. There is another writer named Marcia Woodard.
2. "Marcia Woodard" (to me, anyway) always seems kind of flat, de-fizzed.
3. There are no males in my dad's line to carry on any part of the family name.
4. "Marcia Whittum Woodard" acts like a tongue-twister when you try to say it.
5. "Gunnett" was my paternal grandpa's mother's maiden name.
6. I like the sound of the new name—the way it feels coming out of my mouth.

So, my new name (but only in the publishing world) is:

Marcia Gunnett Woodard

Watch for it!

Hey! I have breath!!

"Let everything that has breath, praise the Lord!"

I'm giving thanks to God, because 8 months ago TODAY, I not only
survived open-heart surgery, my heart was repaired so it works
correctly for the first time in...maybe forever (nobody's sure)!
Anyone who knows the Doxology, please sing it today on my behalf
(as well as your own).

For Those Who Must Say Goodbye

No heart can ever tell the cost of each farewell—
One circle fades, another to be born.
Though sadness dims our eyes, what joy will then arise,
When we meet on that Resurrection Morn.
Our earthly trials and fears, our days of lonely tears
Will vanish in that Home beyond the stars.
And then, as one, how sweet to worship at the feet
Of Christ, who bears our healing in His scars.
We’ll ever sing His praise, who guided all our ways,
And anxious hearts will rest, no more to roam.
So let us watch and pray, as we live ev’ry day,
And each one serve Him ‘til He calls us Home.

© 2009, Marcia Woodard

I Write Because I Must

Words call me. They lure me back—to the computer keyboard, the book, the legal pad, the Scrabble board, the crossword puzzle.

They disturb my sleep, keeping me up 'til dawn, waking me before first light. They buzz around my head like mosquitoes on a summer night: humming and whining, until I finally swat them and leave their carcasses on paper. Then at last, I can get some rest, until the next crop hatches and begins their annoying, seductive song—keening in my ears as they dance around my head.

Why do I write? I write for my own peace of mind, for my own sanity. I write because I must.

This Just In....

Hi! Just wanted to let everyone know that I saw my neuro today. MRIs and MRAs show no sign of any episode. No stroke. No TIA. Nothing. It doesn't fit any description of any particular thing, so the assumption is that it was some kind of a fluke, possibly connected with a weird, atypical, painless migraine.

Soooo, I'm off the blood thinner. I'm allowed to drive again. Yay, God!