In Loving Memory of Lu Ann Staheli

This morning, I lost a dear friend of mine, Lu Ann Staheli, who was bravely fighting cancer for 8 months. So many emotions battle for space when I think of Lu Ann. My first encounter with Lu Ann was in 2001 when I attended a League of Utah Writers meeting at the Provo Library, and Lu Ann was the speaker that night. She had her two little boys with her, Kent & Chan, since her husband was out of town. They sat at the back of the room while their mother taught the class. At one point, when they became rambunctious (I think they were climbing beneath a table), Lu Ann excused herself, walked to the back of the classroom, asked them to behave, then walked to the front of the room and continued teaching without missing a beat.

A few months later, I was invited into a critique group by Annette Lyon. Lu Ann was a part of the group, and I remember being excited (and a little intimidated) at that fact. There are so many things I want to remember about Lu Ann and I wish I could thank her again and again. I have a book coming out in May called Bondage (book 1 of The Moses Chronicles), which I dedicated to her. She won't be able to see that dedication in person now, but I believe she knows how much she means to me.

Just a few of my memories of Lu Ann:

At critique group: "Where are we, Heather?" (I struggle with creating setting in my first drafts)

In a text when asking her whether or not I should take on a certain project: "No, you're better off working on what you already have planned. Stick to your plan. You know it's right."

When trying to decide if I should indie publish: She sent me links to books that I should read. She'd done her own research and had enough unpublished manuscripts that she decided to start putting them up for sale.

We spent time at critique group each week for over ten years. I can hear her laugh now. I can hear her making corrections to my manuscript as I write, "Um, Heather, people can't do that." Or the infamous proclamation that everyone around our table heard. "I don't buy this."

Her handwriting was neat and tidy. Her comments thoughtful. She was well-read, and I mean well-read. From non-fiction to middle grade, to thrillers, to historical tomes. We swapped books to read, we swapped manuscripts, we swapped ideas, and we swapped dreams.

Losing Lu Ann is difficult and continues to be difficult. There aren't many people I can call or text any time of the day for advice, or just to chat. Lu Ann was one of those people. She had many dreams. For her family, for her career, and even more dreams for when she retired. Lu Ann taught English for over 30 years and most recently she was the school librarian--a job she'd loved and had worked hard to get after earning her Master's Degree.

Lu Ann was one of my Senior Editors at Precision Editing Group and she mentored dozens and dozens of new writers over the years.

This is a picture of Lu Ann and I the year we both won Best of State. Me for fiction, Lu Ann for non-fiction. Ironically, I had also entered the non-fiction category, and Lu Ann beat me out. I could never be happier to lose.

Lu Ann has truly been a mentor and an integral part of my publishing journey. She's given me advice on manuscripts, agents, editors, and she's encouraged, uplifted, and helped me every step of the way.

Jeff Savage, a member of my critique group, set up a fund that goes directly to her family, that will help pay for her medical bills.

I'm also working to put out all of her indie published books onto paperback as well. This will continue her legacy, one in which she helped so many achieve their dreams. Lu Ann's Amazon author page is here.

Our critique group: Robison Wells, Annette Lyon, Michele Holmes, Lu Ann Staheli, Sarah Eden, Me, Jeff Savage

My 3 Friends: Breast Cancer Survivors

“Cancer” is a common household word in our world today—which is quite unfortunate. Last year, my father-in-law was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few months before my mother-in-law was diagnosed with stage 4 non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  My father-in-law put off his treatment decisions to care for his wife. She was so advanced that she was given only three weeks. She didn’t even make it one week. The last conversation we had was in her bedroom, as we watched one of those reality shows about cake decorating. She’d make comments about how beautiful the cake decorating was, and I’d agree. Every few minutes she’d fall asleep. Less than two days later she was gone.

My kids worry about cancer. It’s on both sides of their family. My grandmother had breast cancer, but it was a stroke that put her on life support. My parents have endured skin cancer several times. My father-in-law has now undergone surgery and is doing well.

In 2011, I found out that my good friend, Catherine, had been diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer. She’s one year older than me and our kids are the same ages. When we both lived in California, we were neighbors and became fast friends—opposites in many ways—which just made it more fun. She’s Catholic, I’m Mormon. She’s Mexican, I’m Caucasian. I’m tall, she’s short. She’s outgoing, I’m quiet. She’s generous, I’m a bit stingy. I hadn’t seen Catherine for about ten years since I moved to Utah and she moved to Illinois. When I found out that she had been diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer (from Facebook, of course!), I joined her blog and read her updates each day as she went through radiation, chemo, radical surgery, and then reconstruction. Catherine has always been the kind of friend I wished I could be. And reading about her ups, and very very low downs, and how this illness affected her children, her marriage, and all things physical made me realize how grateful I was for her. For our friendship so many years ago, and how, even today, she gives me strength and courage without even knowing it.

As a second grader, I lived in Egypt and attended the Cairo American College. My parents had good friends—another Utah family—and they had a daughter about my age. Nicole and I became inseparable buddies, and even after we both moved back to Utah, we spent weekends together up until our teenage years. Nicole was probably my most highly creative friend and was always coming up with new things to do. She had a contagious laugh and was spontaneous and enjoyed life. In her early 20’s Nicole was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her story was covered by the media, since it was unusual for a woman her age to suffer from this type of cancer. She has now beat breast cancer three times. Nicole continues to be upbeat, positive, and stays crazy-busy with her successful swimsuit company she co-owns with her two sisters. As of this blog post, Nicole’s older sister is currently fighting ovarian cancer. And Nicole is back at it again—encouraging, supporting, and loving as only she can do. A hero in my eyes.

My 15 year old daughter is a volleyball fanatic/player. When she tried out for the high school team this past August, her coaches held a parents meeting. The varsity coach, who was 8.5 months pregnant said, “You better not miss practice unless you have a really good excuse. I’m only missing two days when I have my baby, and the JV coach came to practice even during chemo.” The JV coach, Angie, had indeed coached through her breast cancer treatment. In 2008, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and led a valiant fight for the next year. Watching her coach my daughter for the past three years, I’ve learned a few things about diligence, hard work, endurance, and persistence. Angie is all of these and more, and another hero to me.

To my friends, and all others out there who are facing breast cancer or any other cancer, know that you have my admiration and more importantly my prayers. I am truly amazed by the human spirit I see around me and the fortitude of those who face breast cancer—I feel as if I’m taught every day.