What We Talk About When We Talk About Cancer - Softcover

Sean Daly's first novella Dirt Where the Lawn Should Be, was a finalist in the Black Hill Press Summer Writing Project, and his short stories and essays have appeared in literary journals such as Prick of the Spindle, The Fiction Week Literary Review, and The Hell Gate Review. His current non-fiction work, What We Talk About When We Talk About Cancer, based on his own personal experiences, is his first memoir. Sean writes in Ojai, CA, where he resides with his wife and children. (Contact Sean at: seangdaly@hotmail.com)

"Sean Daly's journal captures the emotional rollercoaster of diagnosis and treatment. You have a sense of what it is to be confronted with mortality and to recognize with startling clarity what really matters in life." - Joe Treasure, author of The Male Gaze and Besotted (Picador) "Sean's creative response to his cancer journey is truly inspiring. He writes with honesty and courage, offering moments of grief, humor and profound illumination. What a gift to have this faithful account of his experiences!" - Leni Wildflower, author of The Hidden History of Coaching (McGraw-Hill) "Sean's humor shines through even as he acknowledges the seriousness of his predicament. Musing about everything from his mortality to what's on TV, this book is entertaining and enlightening." - Robin Gerber, author of Leadership the Eleanor Roosevelt Way "Sean Daly's stories have always demonstrated a deep feeling for ordinary folk, with humor and compassion. Now, having had his life turn upside down with his diagnosis of cancer, he brings his sparkling prose to this beautiful memoir-infused with gratitude for the support from family and friends. And he never loses his sense of humor." - Arthur Braverman, author of Living and Dying in Zazen "What Sean captures most vividly in these state-of-his-state reports is the awful monotony, the flavorless anodynes that compose what is, for anyone who's come into contact with a diagnosis of themselves or others that sounds a different bell than "you're fine, see you in a year," the reality of waiting. Waiting for clearance, comfort, or for the gut punch that haunts their nighttime mental wanderings into the dreadlands of anxiety and fear of the body betraying its owner. His entries beautifully illustrate the awful truth: in the end, we only own what our mind can create for us. We can draw joy or despair; the body cares not at all." - David Rocklin, author of The Luminist