Deborah, the Dreamer, Writes for the Stars

         At the age of seven, I began writing. My mother typed all my “masterpieces”, while I stood next to her. I was raised in the country and collected animals from every corner of Star Thistle Ranch. Since then, my passions have been writing and animals.

      In 1996, I married and toward the end of 1997, welcomed Spencer, our son. My husband traveled for business and during this time, I rescued an array of farm animals, all the while continuing to write short true stories, run our ranch and raise our son. The animals provided an abundance of love and effort, as well as life lessons. However, with 32 animals for which to care, along with my infant son, in time I felt overwhelmed. I continued my writing for therapy, comfort and companionship. It was within these stories, I found myself.

       July 4, 1999, Ross, my brother, ended his life, claiming this, “My day of independence.” The agony of losing Ross could not be eased. I wrote his story as a remembrance and for cathartic reasons. By now, I had written enough stories to create a book.

        In 2001, while caring for my dying mother, she made a request. Asking if I would put the 19 stories I began writing in 2000 into bound form, I promised I would. In December of 2005, this promise was fulfilled. Walking out of the print shop, I waved copies of my tiny teal book, And Then There Was One, into the air for my mother to see.

       My husband and I divorced toward the end of 2002. My alimony ended Christmas day 2005 and by that night, I was frantic with itchy hives from head to toe. I telephoned my aunt Audrey, who walked me through the day’s events, unfolding my financial terror.  Together, she and I devised a plan to get me over this financial hurdle. I sold my alpaca herd and put this money into investments for Spencer’s and my future. Shortly thereafter, the tractor and its nine implements were sold, along with the horse trailer and every other piece of unused ranch equipment in the barn. After that, I sold my fun, yet unnecessary Jeep Wrangler and motorcycle. The time came to trade in the Land Rover for a truck.

        By 2007, another source of income was interrupted. I continued supporting Spencer, our animals, the ranch and myself with my savings until it was depleted in early November of 2008. With desperation, tossing and turning at night became the norm. I felt like an old woman at the age of 48. Were my prayers to Dear God and The Universe heard?

        Sending nearly all 100 copies of my first book, And Then There Was One around the world, I believed someone could use my efforts. The telephone did not ring; no letters arrived in my mailbox and there were no e-mail responses. I questioned whether I should continue following my heart.

Now filled with doubt, I gave up when one final person said I would never make it as a writer and rancher. I was told to consider the welfare of Spencer and sell my ranch. Only Spencer continued believing in me. However, behind his back, I began making plans to leave the ranch life we love.

        In late November of 2008, friend came over with her son. While she and I walked pastures visiting the animals, the boys chased each other up and down the hills. My friend had never pet a bull or wild Mustang. She said this was certainly the perfect place to raise Spencer. Tears sprang to my eyes as I told her I had an appointment to put the ranch up for sale. She grabbed my arm and told me to cancel the appointment immediately; this decision was wrong and she knew it.

        She said to get all my bills, statements and a pad of paper. With a pen flying across the paper, she wrote down everything I owed and eventually discovered monies! I had a few more months to come up with another action plan.

       That night, I slept with a renewed sense of faith. I knew I had valuable information to share on topics such as discrimination, health, illness, abuse, animals, murder, spirits, difficult labor delivery, suicide, child safety, relationships, religion, hope, learning disabilities, vaccination damage, death, perseverance, traveling, angels, cancer, veal and animal communication.

     Toward the end of December I had two more books nearly completed. Thrilled with my accomplished goals, I hoped the time arrived for my long-awaited success. As I sat in my mother’s rocking chair, I envisioned a scenario happening Christmas morning 2008.

The telephone would begin ringing with the calls I had been waiting for. As I gazed at the Caller ID on my telephone, I answered, “Hello, Oprah. I’ve been waiting for your call.” After hanging up with Oprah, the telephone rang again and it was Jenny McCarthy responding to my story, “The Vaccinate Debate.” Jenny wanted to pay me handsomely for my story! After hanging up with Jenny, the telephone rang again and it was Bruce Springsteen! He let me know the story of my brother’s suicide finally made it to him; he wants to make this story into a song!  He asked whether I had more he could use.

I was ecstatic hearing from Ellen DeGeneres, who will bring her television crew to Lone Pine Ranch for an interview. Speaking with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie on the next call received, I learned I was right; they loved the story of “Shiloh”, my bull. Ron Howard called saying he is trying to decide which one – or more of my stories will make the movie scene! I needed help spreading the word of my vital messages and the messengers heard me. My dream of writing for the stars came to fruition. In just 41 years, I was an overnight success.

In my mind’s eye, by the end of Christmas Day, my heart was full-filled, having talked with all the incredible people who had, in fact, received my book. As I tucked Spencer in bed that night and kissed him, I slowly walked down the hallway to my bedroom. I crawled into bed, thanking Dear God, my mother, my brother and my heavenly stars above. I apologized for having lost faith.

I am proud to be an author, farm animal rescue rancher and a single mother to Spencer. Everything I love is at my fingertips; surrounded by a close-knit family of friends. That Christmas night being Deborah, the Dreamer, I slept like the seven-year-old girl, who was brought out in me that day.