Manual The Story of My Life : Volume III (Illustrated)

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I need to pick up my pencils again in February so that I can re-edit chapter 2 and finish off the book with chapter 6.

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Ahead of me is publicising the book, media training, and then gulp! The book is officially in full swing — so brace yourself — there is a lot to update you on. Chapter 5: This chapter is being illustrated by Katie Green. In this chapter we finally meet Maddie. The chapter has the same title as the book. Maddie helps us see that her journey is about having the courage to be herself. Chapter 4: Is done!

I have no idea how Jade has managed to produce such beautiful work so swiftly. But she surely has.

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  7. The chapter is as dark and as moving as I hoped it would be. You can read it in full here. I wanted to publish this in time for 14th Feb which is V Day, an international day of raising awarness about sexual violence.

    the story of my life volume iii illustrated Manual

    The epilogue is illustrated by Heather Wilson. It frustrates me that people like Kim are as invisible to society as the women, men, boys and girls that they support. I hope the book can play some small role in changing that. The courage to be me is an important step closer to being in the flesh. This morning I took delivery of my self-published test books. The whole thing has felt a bit like banging my head against a wall for a couple of weeks.

    But I must have a thick skull because on my 19th attempt I finally cracked it: Sitting down and reading the book so far for the first time was a pretty special moment. But actually the book looks really great.

    Track #3 - Story of My Life

    It seems it really will be ready as a printed book in March. Today I get to share a whole new chapter with you. One of the main findings from the research project that this book is inspired by was that the women benefitted greatly from working in a group. Jean trys to explain why meeting other survivors helped her.

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    Everything else is progressing really well. Katie is about to wrap up Chapter 5 and my pens are out and working furiously to finish Chapter 6 by the end of the week — this is definitely the home stretch now…. Today is my birthday. But for now — what do you do when you finish your first book?

    Well, in my case I cry for a bit and then I sit in the sun with a very big smile on my face. Happy birthday me. Today I celebrate the anniversary of a one year life experiment that became a catalyst for quite a few things in my life — not least of all my cartooning. The experiment was all about giving myself time and space to grow — I wanted to know what would happen if I put myself in my ideal environment for a year.

    Last March I celebrated the end of the experiment by posting this blog post that told the story of my experience. This year I get to celebrate the 24th March by holding a copy of The courage to be me in my hands and also being able to officially call myself an author. The courage to be me will be launched a week today.

    Thank you so much for being with me throughout this whole process — for your donations, for your messages of support, and for helping me to spread the word about this book.

    My Life Story

    I regularly get emails from people who are struggling and have managed to find their own strength after reading the first few chapters of the book. After today that impact can only get bigger and better. Of course my work with the book is only just beginning. My task now is to work towards a BIG launch party — hopefully the kind of event that will get the book some press coverage.

    Six weeks after book launch and it feels like the hard work is really starting. In the meantime the most important thing is that the book seems to do what I hoped it would do.

    The Books That Saved My Life in Prison

    I have had many emails from people who have read the book. They tell me that reading the book has helped them feel hopeful, less alone, less broken and has helped them find the courage to get the help that they need and deserve. To find out what people are saying about the book and to add your own review too please click here. This will be a small, social night — a chance to come along, say hello, ask any questions, buy a copy, get your copy signed, and pick up some flyers if there are people you want to tell about the book.

    My Life As an Alphabet

    A big London book launch and a book tour of the UK are to follow. I just need to arrange them…. The story behind the story Have you ever sat in a room with someone who was showing raw courage? The Cartooning Psychologist tries crowd funding I chose to try and raise the funds to create the book through crowd funding. Hale's Ford, I think, was a town with one house and a post-office, and my birth place was on a large plantation several miles distant from it.

    I remember very distinctly the appearance of the cabin in which I was born and lived until freedom came. It was a small log cabin about 12 x 16 feet, and without windows. There was no floor, except one of dirt. There was a large opening in the center of the floor, where sweet potatoes were kept for my master's family during Page 16 the winter. In this cabin my mother did the cooking, the greater part of the time, for my master's family.


    Our bed, or "pallet," as we called it, was made every night on the dirt floor. Our bed clothing consisted of a few rags gathered here and there. One thing I remember more vividly than any other in connection with the days when I was a slave was my dress, or, rather, my lack of dress. The Southern white people found it extremely hard to get clothing for themselves during that war, and, of course, the slaves underwent no little suffering in this respect. The only garment that I remember receiving from my owners during the war was a "tow shirt. In Virginia, the tow shirt was quite an institution during slavery.

    This shirt was made of the refuse flax that grew in that part of Virginia, and it was a veritable instrument of torture. It was stiff and coarse. Until it had been worn for about six weeks it made one feel as if a thousand needle points were pricking his flesh. I suppose I was about six years old when I was given one of these shirts to wear. To this day the sight of a new shirt revives the recollection of the tortures of my first new shirt.

    In the midst of my despair, in connection with this garment, my brother John, who was about two years older than I, did me a kindness which I shall never forget. He volunteered to wear my new shirt for me until it was "broken in. Soon after my shirt experience, when the winter had grown quite cold, I received my first pair of shoes.

    These shoes had wooden bottoms, and the tops consisted of a coarse kind of leather. I have never felt so proud since of a pair of shoes. As soon as I was old enough I performed what, to me, was important service, in holding the horses, and riding behind the white women of the household on their long horseback rides, which were very common in those days. At one time, while holding the horses and assisting quite a party of visiting ladies to mount their horses, I remember that, just before the visitors rode away, a tempting plate of ginger cakes was brought out and handed around to the visitors.

    This, I think, was the first time that I had ever seen any ginger cakes, and a very deep impression Page 18 was made upon my childish mind. I remember I said to myself that if I ever could get to the point where I could eat ginger cakes as I saw those ladies eating them, the height of my ambition would be reached.