The Importance of My First Official Publishing
And a momentous ‘fuck you’ to a chronic disease that affects millions daily.
I’m still finding my way in the writing world
To see what ignites me — and what dulls my flame.
Between Upwork, pitching random health organizations to be paid ethically, and figuring out what I enjoy about freelancing and what I hate more than Monday morning traffic — I haven’t found any area of writing I absolutely love as of yet.
So far, I’ve built up a small following on Medium writing about anything and everything. I haven’t niched down yet and I’m following the same approach pitching anyone and everyone over LinkedIn or local non-profits to offer my novice services in the hopes of building up a portfolio I can showcase.
How is this going so far?
Well …
After many “I’m extremely interested! I’ve forwarded this email to corporate, you should hear back in a couple of days” and the subsequent crickets after a follow-up by myself a few days later — nothing.
From what I know, this is extremely common in the freelance writing world in the beginning stages. You throw a bloody steak in the ocean with your free services and individually curtailed pitches and … not even one damn bite.
The first non-profit that gave me the time of day
Was something that was a part of me in a sense — ‘The Parkinson’s Society of Southwestern Ontario’.
My mother was diagnosed with a neurological disease called Parkinson’s Disease — early onset in her forties. It all started with a pill-rolling tremor at work, which, down the road led to progressive deterioration and function of her neurological system with symptoms such as dyskinesia, bradykinesia, and dystonia. (see more information here: Parkinson‘s Disease: Symptoms, Treatment, and More (healthline.com)).
To say the word ‘difficult’ is an understatement for the emotional and physical burden she felt. It became something that hung over each one of us in the family like a cloud that wouldn’t stop pouring.
You consult friends and others for support that aren’t as involved, but outsiders don’t entirely understand unless they’ve been through some form of a mental fist fight with chronic disease. Whether they’ve seen their loved one fight or stood in front of them and swung on behalf of them.
For anyone reading who can relate, it’s normal to feel affected and validate your feelings the way you do — even though it may be your loved one suffering the ailment. You also suffer from associative exposure.
The Parkinson’s Society of Southwestern Ontario
Was the company that responded to me eventually. I explained my story behind the pitch — how my mother had suffered from the disease for more than a decade, and how I had an up-close and personal seat.
The administrative manager was moved by my own personal experience with the debilitating disease — so she gave me a writing assignment.
As promised in my pitch, this was free of charge. Sure, I want to get paid eventually, but I held this as my personal responsibility to seek retribution — on behalf of my family.
The assignment: Suzanne Hatchard.
I was to write an article on an original member of the society — as stated in the article, “a martyr in her own right.” Her name was Suzanne Hatchard, and she had passed away. I was to interview her husband for any additional information — anything that would outline her accomplishments in the fight for everyone affected by the neurological disease.
I couldn’t help but feel a burning passion, rage, and ambivalence to empower the masses in this community.
I thought of my mother in place of this woman. The strife and collective grief that both her husband felt, my family felt, and the probable hopelessness of the world who suffers from this.
What I wrote was a form of resistance to the havoc this disease wreaks on a person’s emotional and physical state.
It was a statement in the form of an article to disable its power over you or your family. It was a memorandum for an incredible woman who embodied that the fight never ends and an open letter on behalf of my mother — much like this is.
Upon completion and getting published, I forgot that money was in the equation. Yes, it’s very important to me to eventually get paid. I will be fully transparent about that. However, the reward was so sweet.
When I first opened the link to my article, I saw the picture of Suzanne. She was so happy in both the younger and older pictures of herself — as if she was un-phased by her reality. I imagined my mother all of the times the disease decided to give her a break. She would hold that same smile, able to walk absent of any stiffness in her legs, and could stuff her walker behind her door — folded and out of sight.
The thing that got me the most, was Suzanne’s husband’s email after reading the final result. He stated in the email that after Suzanne’s death, he unsubscribed from the Parkinson’s Society newsletters, support groups, and fell into an angry, depressive state.
He hated the sight of the word and anything that encompassed it.
His final words read “Thank you Joanne and thank you to Steve for writing such a great article.”
Once I read this, I wept.
I thought of my mother, my family, his family, and everyone else dealing with this terrible disease. I was able to write it vicariously through my mother’s eyes, but with my prose. And, the thought that words could revitalize someone’s hope, even after death is a beautiful thing.
Sometimes the payment is even better than some more zeros in your bank account.
Here’s a collective ‘fuck you’ on behalf of the Parkinson’s community, not just in Windsor, ON — but worldwide.
If you’re interested in reading the original article about Suzanne Hatchard and her involvement in the Parkinson’s Society, please refer to pg. 4: https://psso.ca/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/ParkinsonsNewsletter76-web.pdf
Thank you for reading.
