I love when I meet someone and fall in love with their energy, their smile, their genuineness! That is exactly what happened when Ann Kathryn Kelly and I met at the ELJ Editions table at AWP (huge writing conference–don’t get me started)! I knew of Ann for quite some time. I knew “her story.” (She has a wonderful essay in Awakenings–if you haven’t yet picked up a copy WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, my friend).  But nothing compared to speaking with her in person! I’m soooooo excited that she has agreed to share some of her gorgeousness with us at WomanPause!  Enjoy her words, click on her links, and check out her photos! Ann is quite the world traveler!

 

Diane: Welcome, Ann! I want to let readers know how much I appreciate you!

Ann: Happy to chat with you, Diane!

Diane: We first met through email when you accepted a piece of mine for Barren Magazine, where you are the editor for their Flash CNF section. We reconnected over Awakenings—you have a gorgeous essay called “Outlasting Angie” in the anthology. And then we met in person at AWP.

For people who don’t know, AWP is this ginormous writing conference held in a different city every year. Last year was actually the first time I went—those kinds of hooplas are not my jam. But I went because Awakenings was just out, and I ran a table for ELJ Editions.

When you came over and we talked, it was one of the highlights of the whole conference for me! I just fell in love with you. You’re so funny! I love your energy! Your spirit!!

I know you’re writing a memoir about Angie, the name you gave your brain tumor. Angie had been with you since birth! (I just love how you personify her!) Can you tell us about her?

Ann: I position my memoir this way: Can someone live with a brain tumor—worse, one that’s bleeding—for decades? Wouldn’t one know? Wouldn’t their doctors know? Not necessarily.

I was born with my brain tumor but didn’t know it for the first 40 years of my life. I started showing symptoms, according to my mother, when I was three years old. I developed a limp.

And then when I was four, I went to bed one night and woke up the next morning and my eye was crossed.

 

“I’d Gone to Bed the Night Before and Everything Was Fine”

 

Diane: You wrote about that in “Outlasting Angie.” You said, as a kid, it made you so happy to wake up and see double of your dog!

Ann: Yes, Happy Doodle, my beagle! I think you’re referring to this part of my essay:

It seems I was delighted by seeing two of my dog, Happy Doodle, run around the yard. One Happy Doodle had always been a welcome sight, as I’d hug her neck tight and plant kisses on her silky ears. Two Happy Doodle’s was a bonus, an exciting development I shared with my mother who did not agree with me that it was the best thing to happen, ever.

Seeing double is a bit fun, in the moment, but also confusing and frightening. It’s like a split screen. My parents were upset because they knew I had not hit my head, which might have caused something like that. I’d gone to bed the night before and everything was fine. They took me to a few eye specialists and I eventually did have eye surgery to correct it, but none of these specialists knew why it had happened, either.

I was born in the late sixties, and growing up in the seventies and into the early eighties, medicine wasn’t as advanced as it is now. MRIs certainly were not as commonly used, and access was even more of an issue after we moved to a very rural part of Vermont from our Philadelphia suburb when I was eight.

Diane: Wait, did your parents buy a farm?

Ann: They did.

Diane: No, they didn’t!

Ann:  Yes! The city slickers ended up buying a farm—that they never farmed!

I wrote about our Vermont homestead in this CNF piece published in eMerge Magazine—the literary journal for The Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow residency.

 

“When I Received a Definitive Diagnosis at Last—I Had a Cavernous Angioma, that I Nicknamed Angie—Pieces of My Lifelong Puzzle Fell into Place”

 

So, when we landed in rural Vermont, not only were specialists fewer and farther between, but MRIs? Not happening. I didn’t have my first MRI until I was maybe 28. And that’s when it first showed up—a shadow on my brain scan.

I had always suffered with severe headaches since childhood, sometimes enough to make me throw up. I’d have to go into a dark room. And then of course, I had this lifelong limp. When they saw the shadow near my brain stem, it was a clue.

When I received a definitive diagnosis at last—I had a cavernous angioma, that I nicknamed Angie—pieces of my lifelong puzzle fell into place. It now made sense why I’d limped since childhood. Why my eye crossed at age four. Why I had cycles of crushing headaches from childhood into adulthood, and why, as my deficits accelerated, I also developed nonstop hiccupping, dry-heaved bile, and had a left foot and calf like ice.

It had been Angie, all along.

Before I went through this, I didn’t know much about the brain stem. Turns out, it’s the worst part of the brain to have something wrong. It’s the part that controls breathing, heart rate, consciousness. The brain stem is what wakes us up every morning.

I was diagnosed at 40. A cavernous angioma resembles a raspberry, and being a neurovascular disease, it means this type of lesion periodically bleeds. Every time I had a small brain bleed, my symptoms would flare. Ultimately, I had to choose between risky open-head surgery, or let Angie continue to bleed, bringing more health deficits and the potential for a catastrophic hemorrhage.

So, I ask again: Can somebody live with a bleeding brain tumor for 40 years and not know it? Yes. They can.

 

“I Adapted. I Just Kept Moving Forward”

 

Diane: As you tell me this, I’m imagining frustration, depression, giving up. Sometimes maybe even asking, What am I doing here?

Ann: Yeah, it’s interesting. I’ve heard this from friends, and everybody in my family has said the same thing. Definitely, there was frustration. But there was never depression.

Diane: Really?

Ann: I adapted. I just kept moving forward. I used to wonder, was it tension headaches? Because when I graduated from college, I started a career in the high-tech industry. There’s a lot of volatility. Pressure. I was traveling to different conferences in the U.S. and overseas, and I thought, am I just tired?

But I never got to the point where I was overly anxious or depressed. I accepted it at the time and said, OK, this is who I am. I’m a person who gets very bad and frequent headaches. I limp. But, I also had this great life, traveling. I have a wonderful family and closeknit friends. I own a beautiful Victorian home in an equally beautiful community on the seacoast. I was a landlord. That was my life, at that time.

Diane: That’s amazing. Do you know that’s amazing?

Ann: My family, friends, colleagues, they all said about me, as I was going to hospitals for consultations with specialists and getting tests every week: Your attitude was so good. You didn’t fall apart.

 

“I Was in the Dark as to the Life-threatening Severity of It for Decades, and Honestly, I Think that Lack of Knowledge is What Kept Me Going“

 

Diane: That’s so amazing because pain is known to cause depression.

Ann: I don’t want to make it sound like, oh, she’s a superwoman and she never gets down. I think part of it is my natural positive outlook, but a big part of it can be chalked up to the cliché: Ignorance is bliss. I had not known what was wrong with me for so long. I didn’t know how dangerous it was—again, for so long. I was in the dark as to the life-threatening severity of it for decades and honestly, I think that lack of knowledge is what kept me going.

I wrote a passage in my memoir manuscript about how, in my late 20s—a good 10 years or more before I would be diagnosed—I mentioned to my mother that I would like to look into a crystal ball:

I would sometimes say to Mom I wanted a crystal ball. I wanted clarity, I said, a detailed roadmap that would show my predestined stops. I’d worry less about the unknowns of career choice, the potential of marriage versus a life alone. Whether I’d be happy. Whether I’d be well.

“You don’t want a crystal ball, Annie,” Mom always answered. “There are things in store for all of us that we’re better off not knowing. It’s how it should be. It’s how we all keep going.”

Diane: You mentioned earlier the term open-head surgery. I remember that from your essay. I’d never heard it before, and it stopped me in my tracks. We’re all familiar with open-heart surgery, but open-head? You had it and it lasted forever, right?

Ann: 12 hours.

Diane: 12 hours.

 

“My Family and Friends Were as Vital as Medical Specialists in Saving Me”

 

Ann: I live in southern New Hampshire, a little over an hour from Boston. If you have to get into trouble, medically, that’s a really good place to be near with its world-class hospitals. I ended up getting three medical opinions from three different hospitals. I ultimately chose Brigham and Women’s. I was very fortunate, because my surgeon was the Chief of Neurosurgery there.

He also lectured at Harvard. A professional at the top of his game. I had an amazing medical team and of course, I also always credit my family. I could not have gotten through my ordeal without them. I tell people, my family and friends were as vital as medical specialists in saving me.

The surgeons went in through the back of my head and neck for easiest access to my brain stem, removing a piece of my skull—a bone flap—and using staples to close me. I wrote a flash piece that was published in the literary journal (mac)ro(mic)—now, sadly, defunct—about what I imagine could have happened in the OR that day. You can also listen to my reading.

 

A couple years after my surgery, when I started writing the memoir, I went down rabbit holes. I watched YouTube videos of brain surgery. I was doing all kinds of research to layer in. And some of those videos helped me figure out how I wanted to describe it, the tools used.

Diane: Wow. You have some story to tell. Some memoir!

 

“Three Months After My Brain Surgery, I Was Able to Resume My Full-time Job”

 

Ann: After the 12-hour surgery, I was in the ICU for several days. From there, I moved to a neuro recovery floor at Brigham and Women’s Hospital for another week. I left there to go to a brain injury rehab for a month, with patients recovering from strokes, brain surgery, things like that. I arrived in a wheelchair and by the end of the month, after working with therapists, I was walking again with a cane.

Three months after my  brain surgery, I was able to resume my full-time job. I was able to start traveling again, going to conferences. I also love to do a lot of international solo travel. So I picked up again with all of those things, basically resumed my life, which was a miracle. But in the process of doing that, I also really wanted to give back in some way.

I found this nonprofit located just 10 miles from my home, called the Krempels Center. It’s a wonderful organization for people in our seacoast region who have had brain injuries. Krempels Center is affiliated with our local hospitals and universities, as well as coordinating clinical internships for students studying in Boston universities. In addition to their clinical programs with speech and occupational therapy, Krempels offers therapeutic arts programming. I decided to get involved on the arts side, since I obviously don’t have any clinician experience. And so, for the last eight years, I’ve led writing workshops for their members. A local newspaper ran this article about my writing workshops.

 

“I Thank God Every Day—Literally—That I Have My Health Back”

 

My experience there has been so rewarding, and I continually learn important lessons about resilience from the brain-injured people who drop into my writing workshops. I doubt I would have found this program, even though it’s in my backyard, had I not gone through my own experience with a brain tumor. It feels, sometimes, like the universe brought it to me. It’s a gift to volunteer with them, to help them write their memories and then to share their writing with our room of participants. My work with this nonprofit reminds me how extraordinarily lucky I was to not only survive, but to resume my career and travel. I thank God every day—literally—that I have my health back. In fact, I’m healthier today than I was for the first 40 years of my life.

Diane: That’s beautiful, Ann. How’s the querying process for your memoir going?

Ann: I sent out my first wave of queries in February of 2023. Crickets. Sent out the second wave, crickets. By the third wave, I’m like, this is not for me. I threw up my hands, and I really haven’t done much querying since then. That was part of the reason I went to AWP—to light a fire under me again. I think we all have dreams of landing at a Big Five. I know it’s highly unlikely for me. Memoir is a tough sell. So while at AWP, I stopped in to chat with independent presses and university presses at the Book Fair. I also attended sessions featuring indy press panelists, and spoke with other conference attendees about their own paths to publishing. One thing I picked up is to fold in more research into my memoir—so I’m back in editing mode.

 

“I Sent a Cold Email to the Vice President of Marketing”

 

Diane: Shifting focus, you started in a tech career. Are you still doing that?

Ann: I’m still in the tech industry. Hard to believe, but I’ve been at it for 31 years now! I graduated from college in 1991, during a horrible recession. You couldn’t beg, borrow, or steal a job. I’d been an English major, and the best I could cobble together at the time was waitressing, working in a mall, and working a third job as a receptionist at a small television station in Burlington, Vermont. Together, those three jobs barely equaled one decent salary.

Diane: You did that all at the same time?

Ann: I did. I worked at the television station from 8:00 to 5:00, then I would either take a shift as a waitress at night or work in the mall on weekends.

Diane: Wow.

Ann: I did that for close to two years after college. My oldest brother, at that time, was living in the seacoast community where I now live. He worked for one of the many tech companies in this area. He encouraged me to apply to his employer as a writer in the Technical Writing department. I didn’t know anything about tech, but I applied and was hired. Kudos to an English major’s transferrable writing skills!

Within two years, I got bored with it because I was working with software engineers and writing how-to manuals. I sent a cold email to the Vice President of Marketing at this same company. Didn’t know him, just sent him an email back in 1995 and said, “Hey, I’m over here. I’m a tech writer, and I’d love to transfer into marketing and write about more interesting topics.” He said, “Sure, come on over.” And so that’s how I made the shift into marketing.

 

“We Call Ourselves the Butt Kickers”

 

Diane: Oh, I love that. It’s like, what’s the worst? He might have said no. Right?

Ann: Exactly.

Diane: But people don’t, and probably more so women, just don’t—

Ann: Put themselves out there.

I’m not sure that would happen so easily today. I hear from my nephews who are now breaking into their careers out of college that they are one of several hundreds of applicants for just one job!

Diane: OK, how’d you get involved with WOW—Women on Writing?

Ann: I first heard of them through their quarterly writing contests. I saw it somewhere in my travels, whether it came through a newsletter or maybe a writing friend mentioned it to me. I submitted a flash to one of their Creative Nonfiction contests, maybe seven years ago now. My piece made their long list, but ultimately, I didn’t place in the top three. I received an encouraging email from WOW’s founder, I remember, and from there we started emailing back and forth. Angela and I struck up a friendship. She had started this small writer’s critique group with a handful of women, some of them from the WOW community and living across the country. Ang invited me to join their virtual group. It’s been wonderful because in addition to reading each other’s work, we provide moral support, check in with each other monthly, and celebrate our successes.  We call ourselves the Butt Kickers.

 

“After My Piece Was Published, We Kept in Touch and Maybe Six Months Later She Asked Me to Join the CNF Team at Barren as a Contributing Editor”

 

A few years into Butt Kickers, Ang then invited me to join WOW as a newsletter columnist. WOW sends out a monthly “Markets” newsletter to about 50,000 email subscribers, and we brainstormed a new column that we called “On Submission With …”. I was doing most of the monthly interviews in the beginning, but we have since invited a few more writers to rotate in.

And of course, I had the pleasure to interview you, Diane, to coincide with the publication of the Awakenings anthology!

Diane: That’s wonderful. It was so great to speak with you then!

And you got involved in Barren Magazine?

Ann: Yep, I had an essay published with them in 2019 called “The Weight of Oars.” The CNF editor, at that time, chose my piece as her Editor’s Pick for that issue. After my piece was published, we kept in touch and maybe six months later she asked me to join the CNF team at Barren as a contributing editor.

I did that for maybe two years, and then I approached the Editor-in-Chief, Jason, to suggest that we separate our CNF submissions into longform subs and flash subs. The Fiction team had already carved out two sections, so it made sense to do something similar with CNF. Jason agreed and I became the lead editor for Flash CNF.

 

“I’ve Been from the Sahara Desert, Up to the Arctic Circle, into the Amazon Rainforest, through Most of the Middle East, Parts of Africa, Europe of Course, India and Southeast Asia, and I’ve Gotten as Far East as Hong Kong”

 

Diane: So I know you love to travel.

Ann: I do. I love it. I’ve been around the world.

Actually, not quite all four corners—but, three corners! I have not yet been to Australia or Antarctica, but both are on my list. I’ve been from the Sahara Desert, up to the Arctic Circle, into the Amazon Rainforest, through most of the Middle East, parts of Africa, Europe of course, India and Southeast Asia, and I’ve gotten as far east as Hong Kong.

Diane: Do you do a trip a year? How does that work?

Ann: Yeah, I usually try and do one trip a year for fun. Last year’s trip was Prague. What an incredibly beautiful city! I was there with other writers and poets for one month as part of a residency/writing program. Another year, I was accepted into a writing residency in Tuscany. But often, I plan trips that are not writing residencies.

Diane: Any trip planned for this year?

Ann: Not right now, believe it or not. I’m slacking!

Diane: Get on it, lady!

I have to say how wonderful it was to talk with you and for you to share your journey with us!

Thank you, Ann, and best of luck with getting your important memoir out there!

Ann: Thank you, Diane! This has been a treat!

 

As always, I’d love to hear from you. Please write a comment or send me an email.

 

See you soon!

XOXOXO

Diane