Looking for a Writer to Hire?

I am a Freelance Writing Consultant with a background in healthcare, human resources and psychiatric nursing. My writing ranges from academic to hobbyist. 

Some of my favorite topics include:

• Mental Health & Wellness
• Healthy Aging
• Parenting
• Careers
• Writing
• Laughter

For samples of my work view my writing portfolio at Contently

View my professional resume on my Linkedin page

More Reasons I'm a Great Fit for Your Writing Needs

Career/Human Resources

• As the director of a healthcare field that faces an ongoing struggle to recruit and retain employees, I’ve completed well over a thousand interviews in the last thirteen years.                 

• Over these years, tactics I either developed, or assisted in implementing, drastically reduced employee turnover and significantly improved employee morale.  

Mental Health & Wellness

• I  have provided crisis management classes to employees and educational classes to clients on topics such as dialectical behavior therapy and self-soothing. 

• I continue to utilize these skills in my current work in Nursing Administration to assist employees, or clients, in dealing with everyday stressors.

Healthy Aging

• As the Director of a private duty homecare, the awareness and education of the needs of seniors is foremost on my mind. 

• I also have experience in teaching college level Community Health Theory

Parenting

• I'm a mother of twin daughters and have embraced the humor in raising them. Those blog posts will soon be compiled into an ebook. 

To learn more about my fiction visit my Amazon Author Page, my Author Website or my Goodreads Page. 

Get in touch! Email me directly at maureen@maureenbonatch.com.

More Places to Find Me:

The Wild Rose Press

Twitter

Newsletter

Pinterest

Facebook

Interested in Learning About Freelance Writing? 

Check out: 

30 Days or Less to Freelance Writing Success 

  by Gina Horkey 

Disclosure notice: This is an affiliate link, 

which means I may in some way financially benefit. 

I've moved!

My blog has moved on over to cuddle up with my website, so hop on over to http://www.maureenbonatch.com/blog/
So you don't miss any of my musings of anything extraordinary in my writing world as well as my ordinary musings and observations and the humor I find in the day to day.

Maureen

Beefs Great Escape

          Missing: Muse....due to the recent loss of our beloved Bummy, our lhasa apso of 14 1/2 years, my muse has went into mourning for this week's Tuesday Twin Talk.  But since I didn't want to let my loyal readers down, I decided to share a short I wrote awhile back.  It's in the POV of Beef, our late hamster--- the last pet we lost before our Bummy.

As Beef hustled across his cage as quickly as his four stumpy legs would carry him, to cram his body into the tube, his only sanctuary, he heard the little Giant’s fingers fumbling with the door.  The door flopped open and he peered through the tinted plastic to see the Giant’s gigantic extension from her shoulder reach into the cage to probe for him.  He held his breath, which was almost necessary anyway in order to fit himself into the tube, he really needed to cut back a bit on the snacks he told himself.  But when you live at the mercy of little Giants, who from his past experience, could often forget to even feed you for days, you needed to stockpile all you can get to eat as often as possible.

He closed his eyes, feigning either death or sleep, whatever the Giant wanted to believe, waiting for her to leave.  He felt her finger poke into the bottom of the tube then quickly retreat. Victory! It couldn’t reach him. He permitted his beady eye to crack slightly and assess the room. Whew, it was gone.  Sucking in his breath, he squeezed himself through the rest of the tube and came out at the top, what he considered his penthouse.  He scrunched up his furry face into a grimace as he thought of the vast space the Giants had to trollop through as he was limited to this tiny cage.  He had spent many a night gnawing at the corner of the confinement, but he feared the meager progress he’d made would prove his life span not long enough to fulfill his escape plan.

With a sigh, he decided to make the best of it, for what other choice did he have.  Surveying his home, he began to determine his evening activities once the Giants began their slumber.  He noticed something from the corner of his beady eye. His neckless head snapped back and he peered over his pointy nose.  He wasn’t imagining it! Finally the day he had been waiting for had arrived. The little Giant had not latched the cage.  His lipless mouth pulled back into as close as a smile as a hamster could achieve. 

Darkness came and silence descended over the house.  Sitting at the door, waiting for his opportunity Beef quivered with excitement and nerves.  It was all he could do to contain himself from rushing toward freedom as soon as he’d discovered that it was within his grasp.  But no, he’d waited too long for this moment, he couldn’t screw it up with his impatience.

His tiny, practically non-existent ears were perked for any sound indicating any of the Giants or the Godzilla-fur-creature were still awake.  Nothing.  If it was to be done, he had to do it now, and quickly.  Beef rushed the door and pushed at it with his teeny forepaws and hurled his fluffy body onto it and it shot open, unceremoniously dumping him onto the table.  He was out! Panic overtook him as he waddled to the edge of the table to complete his escape.

Yes indeed, victory was his.

A Mother Like No Other

Welcome to a special edition of  Tuesday Twin Talk honoring my mother and all of the mothers of the world who have the hardest job in the world.  Happy Mother's Day!

“What did you do then?”             

 “I threw a roll of paper towels at her… then I left.”                    

                “Paper towels?” 

                Mom looked away, momentarily embarrassed, and shrugged.  “They were in my hand.”

                I thought of the constant comments and nasty behavior of the woman who’d been somewhat of my mother’s nemesis over the years and how most people would have reacted to such treatment.  Most certainly more aggressive than assault by paper towels--- Merely a step above a pillow fight.

                Over thirty years ago, and this was still the most aggressive display of violence I’d ever heard about by my mother.  If you scoured for mom’s picture anywhere you’d find the saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” etched beneath her picture. 

This was a woman who, by most standards of today, should have a lot to say…as a child of divorce when divorce didn’t happen, being robbed by her best friend of the little they had, and the Uncle I never got to meet… all before raising five children through tough times.

This memory came back to me as I waited with my mom for her second ride on the life flight helicopter, something most often don’t live to tell about once, let alone twice.  The first time, with a heart attack two years ago, as she tried to brush off the nurses while they fussed over her, claiming her pain was a five, on a scale of one to ten---while she was having a heart attack.  So when she said the pain in her head was a nine today…

“I have some scars there,” Mom gestured to her arms.  “And most of my body, from when I was five and was playing with matches.”  She made light of it, but I remembered the story… 

“Why won’t you wear the bracelet I bought you mom?”  An eight year old me, asked mom.  Ever the teacher, she used the moment to talk to me about fire safety.  To tell me about when she was five, a burn barrel and a shift in wind resulting in her catching fire and the scars it left behind on most of her body.  “What happened?”  I’d asked, since I knew it must have a good ending--- cause mom was here to tell me this story so many years later.  “My mother took me to the doctor and they told her there was nothing she could do …but take me home to die.”

But she didn’t.  Not in the year she spent in bed at age five, nor the helicopter ride two years ago, so I was confident this time, again. 

So five days later when she joked, “Now when I go to the wizard I will have to ask for a brain as well as a heart.”  I knew the wizard couldn’t grant that wish.  As there was no way to find someone with as much heart---as the woman who still never has a bad thing to say about anyone.  Who adores children; as she continues to work in daycares long after her retirement from teaching young minds…

Nor could the wizard find an improved brain---for the woman who can stretch a dollar to ten and makes lemonade out of lemons as she constantly celebrates the little things in life…as my mother.

I’m glad he doesn’t have to.  For if the entire world settled their disputes in paper towels, the world would be a…softer, cleaner place.

                                Tell me---What makes your mother like no other?

Fifteen Pounds of Fury

      Welcome to a special edition of Tuesday Twin Talk honoring my 'first furry child', Bummy, who is now 14+ years old and unwell.  Sharing a story I wrote over four years ago, hear about his first encounter with his new 'twin sisters' all those years ago.

'

Raising his head from white, fluffy paws he narrowed his black, bulbous eyes in disgust.  His people were bringing something into the place he’d overseen for five long years. Dog years, mind you, are much longer than a mere human’s.  With a total disregard for all the love he’d lavished upon them, they hadn’t given a thought to the disruption they were causing to their perfect family. 

Until now, he’d had an entire house of his own to roam during the day when his people left and a window to peer out at the world.  His family adored him and he lived to protect his house through a ferocious display of barking and frothing of spittle.  Now it was all going to change.

Lately he’d felt unwelcome on his female’s lap, where he curled up each evening for her petting pleasure.  With each passing day, her lap provided less and less room for him.  One day she’d even pushed him off!  At least he thought that was her poking into his back.  He couldn’t be sure, but the message was clear…move!  Forced to lie on the floor like a common dog, this was not providing him the love he was accustomed to. 

The room that used to be an ideal place to stash treats and toys was now off limits.  His favorite chair was gone.  Instead the room overflowed with stuffed toys, which looked like all the rest of his stuffed toys.   Yet for unknown reasons, he wasn’t permitted to even sniff, let alone play with any of them.  He knew this because he’d been thrilled to discover the white stuffed rabbit he thought his humans had gotten for him.  He plucked it up and spent a delicious afternoon mauling it.   

When his female arrived home that afternoon, he proudly trotted out with the tattered rabbit clutched in his jaws, to display what a fierce protector he was.  Instead of praise, the toy was unceremoniously removed from him. Even more humiliating was the scolding that followed. He was forbidden to reenter the room. 

He’d attempted to sneak in to retrieve the treats he’d hidden, or at least destroy some of the outlawed toys, but was unsuccessful.  The door was kept closed tight, forcing him to sniff under the crack of the door.  It was pathetic.

The last few days his female was missing.  The male brought home a tiny pink fabric and laid it on his spot…his spot on the bed! Upon doing a routine smell-inventory (i.e., acceptable and known smells to the canine species) he discovered it smelled…unusual.  Like a human, but not.  Something was definitely up.

            The creaking garage door announced the humans return. He rushed out to receive his customary greeting of petting and bestowing of love upon him.  He came to an abrupt halt and began twitching his black nostrils in the air.  The smell! It was back and stronger than before.  His female was carrying…something.  Both his male and female were entirely focused upon it.  They hadn’t even noticed him.  They only had eyes for that, that…home-wrecking-invader!

It was go time. He had to shine now to try to maintain his rightful place in the home.  Bringing out the big guns, he began displaying his fabulous tricks.  Surely that little thing couldn’t top this. He sat, begged, held out his paw, laid down and rolled over.  Still they paid him no mind. Finally he resorted to dancing on his hind legs, something he’d never do willingly without the promise of a treat.  He stopped, mid-pirouette.  They didn’t even pause. His people continued through the house, enamored with the little creature that probably couldn’t even do one trick. 

He scurried after them.  Darting around their legs, he slipped into the forbidden room before they could close him out. He wanted to catch a glimpse of his replacement.   What could be cuter than him?  His humans placed it into the caged bed.  This was a relief.  He’d been worried he was going to lose his place in the family bed and be returned to this cage.  He spied a treat tucked under the cage.  He’d hidden it about a month ago, stashing extra rations in case he was incarcerated there.  Reluctantly he pulled his gaze away.  The treat would have to wait.  He had more important matters to attend to.

He rushed over to the side and perched on his hind legs to get a peek. Upon first glimpse he thought it was just the little fabric again, until he saw it moving. Strange grunts and gurgles emitted from the bundled form.  Sounds he’d never heard his humans utter. Tiny arms reached out of the fabric and began to flail around.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream shattered the air.  He fell back off his haunches.  Scuttling back he retreated behind his female’s legs, his customary response to impending danger.  His tiny body quaked, uncertain what to expect.  He was confident his people would now see the error in their ways, choosing this creature over him. 

Now, that thing is going to go right back to the cage it came from, he thought. The humans barely tolerated his barking fits, always telling him to be quiet.  There was no way this thing would be allowed to stay, acting like that.  He looked up at his humans in anticipation.  They didn’t seem upset.  In fact, they were smiling! His female reached down to pick up the screaming, flailing thing and held it against her.

His male and female peered down at the little creature, making the cooing sounds that had been for his ears alone since he came and dominated this home.  Reality came crashing in.  They’d found his replacement.  He opened his black jowls, flung back his floppy ears and let out a howl of anguish in his canine tongue.  All his efforts were in vain; he’d lost against this tiny terror.

His howling finally made his humans pause and notice him.  They looked startled by his distress.  They’d never heard him emit such a woeful sound.  His female said, “Poor Bummy, don’t cry.  It’s just your new baby sister.”  She held down the creature for his inspection.

It was indeed a mini-human.  He instantly disliked the creature and all the distress and change it brought. But surely, this thing couldn’t replace him. It was smaller and totally helpless.  It wouldn’t be able to do anything to secure the family’s safety.  With no teeth and squinty eyes it couldn’t compete with his razor sharp vision that missed nothing.  Humph, he thought, that thing can’t even walk.

The mini-human stopped wailing and looked at him with total trust.  He sniffed it, infuriated that it wouldn’t cower in fear.  He cocked his head in contemplation.  This helpless thing needed a protector, even more so than his male and female. This, he could do. 

He gave a little snort, to convey he wasn’t interested in the new arrival.  Retrieving the treat stashed under the cage he trotted out with his head held high.  Perching himself in his usual spot in front of the window, he gazed around for impending threats.  As always, he had a family to guard.

Lie Detector

As soon as I had them alone I crossed my arms over my chest and faced my five year old twins.  “Who did it?” 

Yasmine intently studied the toe of her shoe, her sister, the wall, anywhere but me.   Laken unwaveringly met my gaze with what I’d come to call her ‘I’m-trying–hard-to-lie-look’.  Her eyes bulged and her lips puckered as if the effort to keep the truth contained required so much exertion that the truth was literally bursting from her seams.  Or if she’d accidently eaten a bug.

I’d never confess my ability to ferret the truth out of them this way.  Same as I wouldn’t admit I could see their reflection in the television when they were in the kitchen.  How I knew when they thought they were sneaking and I didn’t actually have eyes in the back of my head as I claimed.

 “It’s not my fault.”  Both chimed in unison.

Ahhh, the old stand by for everything in the world that is generally their fault.  To this day, I’ve yet to figure out just whose fault it really is for all the wrongs that the twins have taken the fall for. 

“Laken, did you call 911?”  I turned my own ‘mother stare’ up to challenge her ‘trying-to-lie-look’ as I saw her wavering in her resolve.  “You did, didn’t you?”

Wavering…wavering…cave!  The girls had yet to learn I’d been a master at the staring contest back in the day---they didn’t stand a chance.

“We didn’t think the number would really work.”  Laken blurted, looking immensely relieved to be rid of the effort involved in maintaining the lie. 

But the number did work.  Unfortunately this was the consequences of learning about emergency services in kindergarten. 

“Whose idea was it?” 

“Everybody’s.”  Yasmine rushed in defense, apparently not willing to take the rap alone.

“We didn’t think they’d come.”   

But the police did come, but it was to the neighbor’s house where the girls were playing with their kids.  Unfortunately their grandfather was babysitting and was quite surprised to greet the policeman who came to their door for their ‘emergency’.

Usually they call the house to validate if there is indeed an emergency, or if the call was a mistake.  Unfortunately, when dealing with a group of four children ranging from five to eight years old who, like most children (and some adults)… panic. 

The girls went on to confess each time the call came back to validate the emergency, it was answered---and hung up on.  Although their utilization of ‘ignore or avoid and it will go away tactic’ wasn’t successful since the police could identify the location of the call and make a personal visit.  Luckily the policeman must’ve been having a slow day and used this as an educational opportunity to expand upon proper use of the emergency system. 

Although I doubted the probability of ever reading about my girls being touted a heroine someday for enacting the emergency system if there was a real crisis.   Surely they’d spend the entire time as I’d lie writhing in pain or unconscious as they’d try to determine if this was, indeed, the proper time to make the call---rather than face down an intimidating policeman again.