Hi friend,
You may have noticed my vague but glum social media posts lately. It’s because I have bad news. I also have unrelated good news. In true pick-your-path fashion:
Go to Teatime Talk for my bad news.
Go to What I’m Writing for my good news.
Pick your path, crack the case.
Teatime Talk
You have chosen my bad news. Welcome, rubberneckers!
Here we go:
I tested positive for BRCA-1, a gene mutation that makes me very susceptible to breast, ovarian, pancreatic, and skin cancer. How susceptible, you ask? According to the genetic counselor:
5% to 10% lifetime chance developing pancreatic cancer.
39% to 58% lifetime chance of developing ovarian cancer.
60% to 87% lifetime chance of developing breast cancer.
I would not gamble with those odds. I certainly wouldn’t gamble my one wild and precious life with those odds.
In my fervent internet research, I discovered that 1 in every 40 Ashkenazi Jews carries a BRCA-1 or BRCA-2 gene mutation, as compared to 1 in every 400-800 non-Ashkenazi Jews. And being Ashkenazi Jewish on both sides of my family for as long as anyone can remember, I’d just like to say, “THANKS, ANCESTORS.”
I don’t have cancer (that I know of), but the gene mutation alone comes with a swell of new doctors: an oncologist, a breast surgeon, a gynecologic oncologist, a gastroenterologist, a dermatologist, and a fertility specialist. Mammograms, MRIs, blood tests, ultrasounds, egg retrievals, surgeries (definitely one, potentially three).
For an otherwise healthy 31 year old, this is a sucker punch.
Friends and family (BRCA positive and negative alike) have reminded me that it’s good to know this about myself, so I can get regular screenings and preventative surgeries. That I have always had this mutation with me, so it’s better to have the knowledge and catch things early than to continue forward in the dark and potentially miss a cancer diagnosis… until it’s too late.
But I’m still deeply sad to feel betrayed by the very code that makes me ME. My body—which I have loved fiercely, for all its perfections and imperfections—is a ticking time bomb. And at any moment, things could go tits up. (Sorry not sorry. Had to pun this.)
I’m not as much a doomsayer or pessimist as I am a worrywart. (When you read The Mythics next year, know that Marina is extremely me. You’ll see.) For example: When I was fourteen at a sleepover, I stupidly whispered to the Ouija board, “Will I die before I’m twenty?” When it answered YES, I’m embarrassed to admit that I lost far too much sleep over it. I should have known that the fortunetelling ability of the giggly teenage girls sliding the planchette across a Hasbro game is probably fairly weak. The fortunetelling ability of a molecular chemist analyzing my DNA, however, seems far superior.
BRCA-1 isn’t a death sentence, so I’ve been told. Screening regularly means I have a better chance of catching cancer at Stage I or Stage II—and surviving. But there’s something so inherently scary about cancer. And being both an anxious person and a storyteller means my mind tends to run away to the worst possible scenario, the one with the most conflict and tension. Which is why I feel like I just asked the Ouija board again. Only this time: how I was going to die, not when.
Being afraid of death means living with an ever-present ticking clock. How much time do I have left? When will I run out of it? Will I get to do all, or even most, of the things I want to do? And how do I accept what’s coming for me—for everyone—eventually? Because it’s the one thing I cannot accept. All my life, I’ve always heard the clock, but now it ticks louder. It sounds an awful lot like my hammering heart.
Maybe this is darker than you expect from me. Personally, I’m still trying to work out if humorous people hold space for laughter despite pain or because of it. The longer I live, the more I lean on jokes. In particular, I’ve been sharpening my gallows humor this month.
I know I have a lot to think about with a possible double mastectomy, an oophorectomy, and family planning. Everyone seems to have opinions in all directions, but I need to figure out how best to live with my own decisions.
For me, the choice becomes more complicated when I factor in that I had a breast reduction a decade ago. I feel like I already did this surgery… but half-measured and wrong. And my positive mammary of that experience (sorry not sorry AGAIN) is spoiled by what I know now.
I’m finding it hard to explain—to myself, to others—why I’m hesitant to do a bilateral mastectomy without sounding utterly (udderly? please stop me) ridiculous. Maybe the thought of two more surgeries where I already had one is too much to handle. Or maybe I just don’t feel empowered by my options; I feel powerless.
I’m in the part of a pick-your-path book where none of the choices are particularly good: to be a survivor, to be a previvor, or to spin the roulette wheel and pray I’m part of that lucky 13%. This isn’t the way I would have written this story. Nevertheless, I need to pick myself up… and pick a path.
I’ll keep you abreast. (CAN’T STOP, WON’T STOP.)
What I’m writing
Welcome to my good news! I’m overflowing with book stuff!
Case Closed 4 (May 2022): To kick things off, I have title reveal and a cover for you!!! First, the title:
Case Closed: Danger on the Dig
And now the cover! It’s illustrated by Petur Antonsson, who has illustrated every cover in this series and continues to capture Carlos, Eliza, and Frank perfectly!!! Let’s dig in:
Isn’t she LOVELY??? I’m obsessed with the regal red, the spooky catacombs, the kiddos, the background, the necklace, the cobwebs, the subtle snakes. Just a reminder, it releases on May 17, 2022, and I couldn’t be more excited!!! You can preorder it now to make sure your copy arrives asap:
And if you want to know what Case Closed 4: Danger on the Dig is about, then here’s the description:
Las Pistas Detective Agency is going international! Carlos, Eliza, Frank, and Detective Cat head to an archeological dig in Greece to find valuable, stolen artifacts. They must also safeguard the legendary Necklace of Harmonia, rumored to keep the wearer young forever… for a price. A thief is circling the necklace’s resting place, a tomb specifically designed to keep intruders out—but for how long?
Only seven people have access to the catacombs, so it should be easy for Carlos to dig up dirt on an artifact thief. But after three successful mysteries together, Eliza wants to start taking the lead, leaving Carlos without help! With skilled suspects, booby-trapped catacombs, and dozens of impossible choices, Carlos needs your sleuthing skills more than ever!
In the fourth interactive adventure of the Case Closed series, YOU pick which suspects to interview, which questions to ask, and which clues to follow. Can you help Carlos save the artifacts and a friendship before it’s too late? Or will it be case closed? You pick the path, you crack the case!
Case Closed 1—Greek Translation: More good news on the Case Closed front. Book one, Case Closed: Mystery in the Mansion, is available for purchase in Greece! Here’s the cover for this translated edition, by brilliant illustrator Νίκος Γιαννόπουλος:
Isn’t she WONDERFUL??? I especially love Carlos repping his Las Pistas shirt, Guinevere LeCavalier looking snobbish as ever, the bats from that ending making their first ever cover appearance, the elegant unicorn statues, and the fact that a mansion in Greece is one with columns. But really, everything about this cover is delightful!
The Mythics 1 (Fall 2022): Isn’t she PRECIOUS??? Ok, I can sing that, but obviously you’ll notice a newsletter devoid of Mirelle Ortega’s beautiful interior illustrations and cover art. I wish I could share something with you, but I’m sworn to secrecy! You’ll have to wait for a later newsletter to see why I am floating on air.
What I’m Reading
A book I blurbed gets released THIS MONTH. It’s called The School Between Winter and Fairyland by Heather Fawcett, and it is delightful!!!! It already has two stars: from Kirkus and Publishers Weekly! It’s like Harry Potter from the perspective of a young girl Hagrid, and I found it so fresh and compelling. I devoured it. Here’s what I had to say about it:
I tore through The School Between Winter and Fairyland faster than a wyvern claws through hearts. An exhilarating, witty, brilliant twist on a classic Chosen One story. With magic to learn, monsters to discover, and adventures to be had, attending Inglenook is a MUST.
Saying Goodbye
This’ll be short because there’s not much else to say. While there is nothing anyone can do to alleviate my overwhelming BRCA panic, but please know I do appreciate all your breast wishes (oy, I’m the worst).
Tata(s)… for now!
Lauren
My family finds gallows humor to be of great help and your sprinkling of jokes was humorous for us and hopefully cathartic for you. That is bad news and difficult to accept but I believe having information is so much better than not knowing. You can now make informed decisions and because you are bright and surrounded by loving, intelligent people you will make the best decision and that means you will have no regrets. Sending much love to you and the fam.
I'm laughing at "tits up" despite the magnitude of this bad news, so I vote for humor that holds a place for pain. In my draft novel, I've found myself repeating the sentiment that we have to laugh because otherwise we'd never stop crying, to the point where I have to delete a few of those! Coincidentally, a friend just told me the other day that all the women in her family have this same BRCA issue and she is planning a double mastectomy too. She has known about this for a while and has reached a level of peace with it, even though she's prepared to go through some shit. Wishing you the same as you adjust to this news and its consequences.