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Tropical Depression: Quirky Essays on Anxiety, Food, Shame & Life After 50 is my second book. My first book is Pet Sitting in Paradise, and the reason you never heard of it is that the literary world said, "We love your writing, but who are you? We couldn't find your "social" so, to us, you don't exist." With Tropical Depression, I intend to prove I fucking exist. Below is an overview of the book.

Pam is a single, ex-New Yorker who stayed away from men her entire life because of their cooties. Now 52 with irreparable bad habits, questionable mental health, and living on an island, she is ready to date.


Pam never acknowledged men as a child, which has led to choosing careers with no men in sight. With mannequins subbing as her boyfriend's she graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology and watched as friends marry men whose limbs won’t fall off.


Pam entered later adulthood intending to work with dogs, yet another guarantee that her only admirers will have four legs. She remained single as her married friends' babies now have babies old enough to drive. 

Shortly after the Attacks on the World Trade Center, Pam moved to Hawaii and has lived there 20 years. This did nothing to improve her social skills, as demonstrated by my remaining single for the next two centuries.


Aloha! I'm Pam,  a 52-year-old single, and I have medication-resistant depression. As much as I love animals it's my depression that has come to define me. I know we're supposed to use caution when describing ourselves, but I'm ok with admitting my clinical melonchoy has alot to do with who I am.  How people cope with depression might be what's more tellling. I use writing, binge eating (not glamorizing) and finding creative pursuits like the circus arts to survive. 

Suffering from depression for as long as I have makes me an expert. Not something I wanted to medal in, but it's my reality. This doesn't mean I know about every antidepressant on the market nor does it mean I'm in a position to give advice. Although, I actually give practical, fact-based, and simple advice, I just can't do it for myself. I would like to be an author and when I submit my writing to be judged by a crew of strangers, I must answer questions like, "What makes me an expert in my field." Most times the answer is I'm  a proffesora I'm sharing my response here. Lucky freaking you!

My experience with depression includes 30 years of swallowing thousands of antidepressants. There isn’t an aspect of taking “melon-softeners” I haven’t experienced. Side effects such as spontaneous lactation from both breasts and consequences like having my extremities flinch without warning. My butt has been in the chairs of Freudian therapists who stared at me until I bawled and elderly therapists with a memory span of a goldfish. My experience with the depression roller coaster mirrors my ups and downs with relationships. In four decades of dating, I've been stood up, put down, and catfished. I have spent 52 years on earth as a female with disastrously low self-esteem, four hair colors, and five different waist sizes. I've worn push up bras to shove my boobs up and Spanx to push my stomach down. I've listened to the advice: “When you stop looking for a man is when you will find him” while simultaneously turning dating into a full time job. Depression and heartache aren't a winning skillset, but if my mastery helps women feel less alone, I'm all about it.

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Wanna read a few excerpts from Tropical Depression the book? Below are three peices: Introduction, It's a Shame & Men  Through My Ages.