Tuesday, January 22, 2013

TBR welcomes Andrew Seaward

Some Are Sicker Than Others
Andrew Seaward

In A.A. they say to wait at least a year before entering into a relationship, the idea being before you can love someone else, you must first learn how to love yourself. But what if loving yourself just isn’t possible? What if in order to love yourself, you must first know that you can be loved? 

During a mandated recovery, Monty Miller, a young, suicidal alcoholic, falls deeply in love with a cocaine addict named Vicky, who offers him a reprieve from his life of self-sabotage. Against his sponsor’s warnings, Monty hinges his entire recovery on Vicky, believing he can stay sober for her rather than doing it for himself. But when Vicky is killed in a hit-and-run on their way home from a meeting, Monty is forced to confront the truth; he didn’t really love her. He was just using her as a way to cope without alcohol.  

Filled with the guilt of this revelation, Monty embarks on a mission to drink himself to death. But, his family intervenes and has him committed to Sanctuary, a rehabilitation facility high in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. There he meets Dave Bell, a former all-American track star turned narcissistic crack addict, and the driver responsible for Vicky’s death. 

Can Monty forgive Dave for his unspeakable atrocity and finally find the courage to forgive himself? Or will he follow his addiction to its inevitable conclusion, using self-pity and blame as excuses to give up on life?
Based on the author’s own personal experience with substance abuse and addictive relationships, SOME ARE SICKER THAN OTHERS transcends the clichés of the typical recovery story by exploring the incomprehensible demoralization of addiction and the thin, blurred line between codependence and true love.  


"Monty bent his head forward and started rubbing his eyelids, digging away the mucus that was crusted in the corners of his eyes. As he brought his hands down, he caught a whiff of something strong and chemical, fanning from his fingertips and out beneath his nose. He knew what it was. It was the acetaldehyde, a byproduct of the dehydrogenation of alcohol in the blood. For a normal drinker, it hung out for only a matter of minutes before being broken down by a substance in the liver called glutathione. But for alcoholics, the chemical hung around almost indefinitely, because there wasn’t enough glutathione to combat the massive amounts of alcohol entering the blood. The result was a stench not unlike that of vinegar or nail polish remover, emanating from the sweat pores like a bad case of B.O. It was so strong that people would often comment on it, but Monty usually just told them that he was trying out a new cologne. Funny. It had been such a long time since he’d smelled it that only now did he realize how much he missed it. Now, that it was back, it was almost reassuring, like the sweet, apple scent of his childhood home. He laid his right hand out flat in front of him then took a deep breath in, his knuckle pressed against his nose. Ahh. It was sharp, strong, pungent, and bitter…the smell of death like a spirit unfurling from his skin. He smiled as he sank back against the headrest, his eyes focused on the front entrance of the liquor store. Just then, he saw a hand move through the front store window and flip the Sorry, We’re Closed sign to Yes, We’re Open. Thank God. It was about time."

Author Bio

Name a hospital in Pennsylvania; I’ve been there. A rehab in Texas; I’ve stayed there. I’ve been strapped down to hospital beds, thrown into drunk tanks, and locked in padded rooms no bigger than a broom closet. I’ve woken up on railroad tracks, passed out on park benches, and even slept in a dumpster once because I was too drunk to realize what it was. And for what? A moment of numbness, a flicker of tranquility? No. I realize now, that the reason I drank was because I was too afraid to admit who I really was. I’m an artist. A storyteller. A writer. An author. It took me a long time to finally admit this, and now that I have, I can’t stop. 

My debut novel, SOME ARE SICKER THAN OTHERS, takes you on a hellish journey inside the diseased mind of the addict. From a codependent alcoholic wracked by an obsession to drink himself to death to a former all-American track star turned washed-up high school volleyball coach with a dependency on crack…the characters in my novel will haunt, taunt, and challenge your preconceived notions of what it means to be an addict or alcoholic. Some of you will laugh, some will cry, others will see themselves in the characters’ lives. Either way, I hope you enjoy the story, because, in the end, it’s not only my story…it’s everybody’s. 

Do you have a tag line: I used to think I was a pretty sick person. Then my parents sent me to drug & alcohol rehab in Anaheim, CA. There I learned a universal truth about addicts and alcoholics; though we may all be sick…Some Are Sicker Than Others. 

1 comment:

Talk to TBR guests!