Spanish Surrender and GCLS

rachelspangler • July 9, 2019

Hiya friends,

I am freshly returned to the states after a month abroad. In June my family traveled to London, North East England (to visit the town and people who inspired Full English ) and Mallorca, Spain.

Anyone who follows me even a little bit knows of my vast love for Spain, and I was so very looking forward to spending five whole days exploring a brand new part of the country, this time on of the Balearic Islands of the Mediterranean coast. I had the added bonus of planning a book launch while I was there.

You see, I had the most wonderful plans to promote my new release, Spanish Surrender , from the island. I was going to livestream readings and announcements. From my lounge chair beside the pool at the finca where I was staying, I was going to read a few paragraphs from a sexy scene where my characters do a little swimming on a hot Andalusian day.

From a mountain-top olive grove, I planned to tease a scene where my characters have an important conversation on a road just like that one.

And for the big shebang, my family and I had ponied up the money to sail out on a traditional Mallorca fishing boat and watch the sunset. From there I planned to read a snippet of a scene where my characters take a boat ride that isn’t at all what it might appear on the surface, and talk about the many layers of meaning this book has to me.

Alas, the best laid plans…<heavy sigh>

My son Jackie spiked a fever before our plane even touched down in Palma De Mallorca. By the next morning it had climbed to worrying levels, and we spent much of our first morning tracking down an English-speaking doctor who would see tourist children on short notice.

By the time we got cleared to travel farther into the country, it was in the heat of the day and poor Jackie was sweltering. We did get our drive through the mountains, but the heat, both internal and external, meant we stopped only long enough in Soller to collect food. No time for readings.

Things did not get better from there. We used the pool only once to try to lower our temperature. There were no sexy feelings or stories to be shared. We left our rural finca only one morning to visit a nearby market and lived to regret it.

Not only did the fever return time and time again, soon it became clear it was also a precursor to a nasty stomach bug.

We all shed a few tears as we had to miss the sunset sailboat cruise we’d already paid so much of our budget for, but in a matter of hours, even that would seem like wasted salt and water, as I was so wracked with sickness I ended up at another medical center with dual IV lines running wide open into my veins.

We didn’t eat any of the Spanish foods we love, and I didn’t have a single class of sangria, and no books were launched.

Still, I have much to be grateful for. One, this was not my first trip to Spain, and God willing it will not be my last. Two, we received excellent medical care at prices so far below what those services would have cost us in America, we had to laugh even in our distress. Three, I learned that when push comes to shove, my Spanish is sufficient to get through basic medical conversations, a fact that bolsters my sense of self and my Spanish street cred. Four, the people of Spain did not let me down. From the hosts of the places we stayed to the doctors and nurses and pharmacists who cared for us, their tenderness, competency, and eagerness to help exceeded every idealistic image I hold of the Spanish population. Five, we are all safe and heathly, which is more than a great many people in the world can say.

Finally, on our last morning in Spain, we all felt well enough to wander down to the water and spend just a few minutes jumping off rocks into the cool, blue, beautiful waters of the Mediterranean. It wasn’t the vacation we hoped for, but it was at least a nice note to go out on.

But now that I am back in America and back to basic good health, I am left with the problem of how to launch Spanish Surrender.

Sadly, I have no more magnificence up my sleeve. I’m afraid I will have to do this the old-fashioned way. You see, Wednesday I head off to Pittsburgh, PA for the annual Golden Crown Literary Society conference. The Mediterranean coast it is not, but what it lacks in breathtaking ocean views, it makes up for in really awesome people.

Seriously, a boi could do worse than launching a novel in a room full of hundreds of literary lesbians. So, that is what I will do! Then, after I do the official Spanish Surrender launch at GCLS, we will upload it to various retailers and web stores around the Internet.

I’ll release more details at the wide release later, but if you are going to be at the conference, you will have the exclusive opportunity to get your hands on the first paper copies of Spanish Surrender ! I will also be reading from and talking about the book (and other things) at various events throughout the conference. If you want to find me, say hello, and maybe even have me sign one of those exclusive copies of Spanish Surrender , here’s where you can find me!

Wednesday July 10
1:00 – Conference Opening Ceremony
4:00 – Writing the Perfect Lesbian Lead – Kings Garden 3
5:00 – Opening Reception – (Bonus, Jackie might come to this one, too)

Thursday July 11
10:30 – The Art of Self Editing – Kings Garden 2
1:30 – Membership Meeting
4:45- Bywater’s Book Launch – King’s Garden 3

Friday July 12
10:30 Mentoring Matters – King’s Garden 4
11:40 – Generation Gap – King’s Garden 4
4:30 – Author Spotlight- King’s Garden 1

Saturday July 13
9:00 – Social Media and the author Kings Garden 5
10:30 – Conflict of Interests Panel
2:30 – autograph signing
5:30 – Awards dinner
7:00 – Awards
9:30 – Dance

Sunday July 14
10:00 – Closing Session
10:30 – Brunch – last chance to say hi!

I’ll also be around most of the times they are serving food, because food. So please don’t be shy! Come up, say hello, ask for a photo, ask for an autograph, ask me anything you’ve ever wanted to know about me or my books, because really, and please, help me celebrate the launch of Spanish Surrender , because even though it didn’t go the way it was supposed to, I’m still really excited to share my new baby with each and every one of you!

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Facebook memories reminded me that we are approaching the 1 year anniversary of my stem cell donation. On June 1st of 2021, after five days of injections, I underwent a medical procedure to donate stem cells via a line in my chest. Those cells were then transferred into a cancer patient somewhere in Ohio. In addition to feeling like a high tech medical miracle, it was also a huge, awe inspiring experience for me personally, and I’ve spent the time since then feeling so proud and honored to have been in a position to so something so powerful. Then about two weeks ago I received a phone call that my recipient had passed away. I’m gutted. The news has ripped at me in ways I could not have anticipated. This is, in effect, the death of a stranger, a young woman in a different place, whose name I have never known. And now I will never know it. In some ways I don’t feel entitled to this level of grief. In so many ways she’d only ever existed for me as an idea. But we were not nothing to each other. I have prayed for her every day for almost a year, and now I pray for her family. I have wondered and worried over her. I have woken up in the middle of long nights and on Christmas morning thinking about her. Every time I notice the little scar on my chest where the line went into my body, I have felt her with me. Still, I did not know her. And I never will. When the transplant coordinator called, she broke the news quickly, then she said that she needed one more thing from me. She wondered if I might release my remaining stem cells to researchers. I was still a bit rocked back from the start of the conversation, and this request confused me. She explained that there were some cells left over after the transfusion, and they still belonged to me. Legally and ethically, those cells, even after they left my body, are a part of me, and no one can do anything to those extensions of my body without my releasing them. I thought about asking her if anyone had mentioned that to the Supreme Court, but I was too sad in the moment. The anger would come later, but as I’ve pondered that fact, it has helped me at least contextualize the level of grief I am feeling: A woman died with a part of me inside of her. I have tried to temper the dramatic impulse to surrender to the idea that if she died with a part of me inside her, a part of me has died as well, but I’ll admit I have gone there a time or two. What I have leaned on more frequently, though, is that despite not knowing anything other than her rough age and gender, we shared something more fundamental than names or letters. We shared stem cells, the very building blocks of what makes us who we are on a cellular level. With those cells I sent my hopes, my best impulses, my health, my love, the pieces of my blood and bones that allow me to live such a wonderful life in the hopes I could sustain her with those things. Turns out I could not. It has been two weeks of wondering if I could have done more. Fearing that my body, which I have always had a problematic relationship with, has failed me again, and this time betrayed someone else in the process. Worrying someone else paid the price of my insufficiency. Remembering loved ones I have lost to cancer, feeling that pain anew. Imagining the anguish of those who loved her as deeply as I loved the people I lost, and almost crippling empathy for the pain they are living in right now, pain I couldn’t save them from even though I tried. It’s been dark in my brain. My emotions have overwhelmed me often. Sadness ruled the first week. I burst into tears several times at inopportune moments, and cried until my face hurt. This past week anger took over. I will admit, other than a general sense of the injustice of it all, I didn’t understand where the anger came from. Then in session this week, my therapist explained that anger is a common outlet for a sense of helplessness. 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She smiled like she knew that, then gently pushed. “If one year ago someone had told you, there’s a woman in need and you will never know her. She needs the very base of your body’s building blocks, it will be a grueling process over several days that will take more out of you physically and emotionally than you had imagined, and all it will give her is 11 more months. 11 months to say what she needs to say, to hug loved ones, to try to make peace. One more Christmas, one more birthday, one more fall, and winter, and spring, but that’s all. She will be gone, and you will live on with the questions, and a connection most people will never comprehend. Would you sign up for that? The answer was yes. It is yes. If I got the same call tomorrow, the answer would be yes that day and every day after. It will always be yes. I suppose that is the through line. That’s the story. It’s part of my story, and it will be, for as long I have cells in my body…or out of it. · If your answer would be “yes” too, and you are eligible to donate, please consider registering with Be The Match , and if you aren't eligible yourself please share this information with the people in your life who might be!
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