“Watch your back, brother.

You never know when one of the dead is waiting to drag you to hell. -Gus”


M. Lauryl Lewis - wife, mother, author, & zombie addict




A lot of people ask what the “M” stands for. The name I turn my head to is “Marcy.” When I was sixteen, I legally changed my middle name to Lauryl (it’s a very long story) and I knew shortly after that if I were ever to write a book, it would be as M. Lauryl (Lewis came later when I got married). I’ve been married to my husband, Peter, since 2002. We have three little boys who are currently going in to 7th, 6th, and 4th grade. We love to go camping and on hikes on sunny days, love playing with our dogs and cats, and look forward to just about any family time we get. I was a registered nurse from 1995-2013, when I opted to retire so that I could focus on writing as well as be available for our oldest son, who was diagnosed with a brain tumor in May of 2014. I love Thai food, the color green, the number 5, and reading! I’m also a firm believer in the power of a nap. I’ve always loved animals. Our family has three cats and four dogs that range from 12 up to 120 pounds!




Since very young adulthood, I always thought it would be “cool” to write a book someday. But in all honesty, it was nothing I ever planned to pursue. I was quite content as an RN, for over 18 years. In March of 2012, we had about an inch of snow on the ground. When I went out to feed my flock of chickens, I slipped and tore apart ligaments in my ankle. Within a month, I knew I was in pretty deep doo-doo and was spending most of my time in a recliner due to the pain of walking (even with an immobility boot). So, I pulled out my laptop and decided to write a book. GRACE LOST was “born,” and I decided to self-publish it in September of 2012. I found my passion through a random act of clumsiness and can’t imagine NOT writing anymore! My genre of choice is horror, but I’ve also written a new adult romance. I’ve loved horror (zombies in particular) since I was a very young child.




Some people take notice that my characters are flawed. This is intentional. I feel that by making characters realistic, the story will be more believable. The protagonist in the Grace Series is known for crying, being too trusting, too naive, and younger than her 20 years. And vomiting. I picked a young, naive, shy woman on purpose. I wanted to tell a tale of how an average person would react to the zombie apocalypse. My characters make some poor decisions. They don’t always use perfect grammar when they speak.  They cry. They scream. They show their fears.


My Blog

Words and thoughts that escape the confines of my mind.
  • Time Flies When…

    The old saying. Time flies when you’re having fun. I’m still working on State of Grace. Just when I feel like I’m getting back on my feet, it seems like I get knocked down. For the past two years my depression has peaked, and some days it’s just a struggle to wake up and get moving. At each corner the reality of our son’s brain tumor sinks in deeper and deeper. 90-97% chance his cancer is gone and won’t come back, but he’s left with scar tissue, benign tumor (however nothing inside the head that shouldn’t be growing there is benign by nature) and cysts. His quarterly MRI this month showed cyst growth. Enough that they mentioned the possibility of surgery again. We’re headed on his Make-A-Wish trip soon, so I’m trying to set the worry aside and just have fun. State is still progressing, just not as quickly as I’d like. I had hoped to have it out this week, but in all honesty I see it taking a couple more months.

    I can tell you that tragedy is about to hit Gus and Zoe. They will have to make a life-or-death decision very soon. There is no right choice, and whichever path they choose will be as painful as the alternative. The choices have potential to drive them apart, if not over the edge.


  • Anniversaries can be Bittersweet

    Monday brings with it a lot of tears and heartache. I’m resigned to the fact that it always will. I know time may help, but the memories are still so fresh. Ask me if I recall what we had for breakfast, what the kids wore, any number of things before about 4:00 pm and I won’t have a clue. From the time we left the house, though, it’s all still so very fresh. O and L walked out the front door with me. H was running behind a bit. I told him to shut the front screen door, which would lock the house up. I proceeded to the car to help O and L get inside and buckled up. Henrik joined us and I was irritated that despite saying he’d shut the door, he did not close it. He seemed to have no recollection of me telling him to, nor or his answering that he would. His cognitive function was already impaired, yet at the time I assumed he was just a forgetful preteen. A quick stop at the eye doctor and the boys were looking forward to a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa’s house afterward, and a movie the next day. Calling my mom to meet me in a neighboring city because the optometrist wanted H seen by a retinal specialist right away. Mom meeting me in her office and taking O and L home with her. The note the specialist handed me and told me to not open, but rather deliver straight to the ER doctor. Ignoring her warning, opening it once I was outside, confirming what I already knew by her reaction. “Possible diagnosis IICP.” Increased intracranial pressure. Crap. Crap. Crap. He had hit his head at recess the week before. Could it just be that? It didn’t seem that bad at the time – it was just a bump to the head. Getting Henrik into the minivan. Calling my mom before pulling out of the lot, asking her to leave O and L with my dad and to please meet us at SCH’s ER. Halfway there. Halfway there. Calling Peter’s manager at work, declaring a family emergency without using words that might scare H. He was an hour south and had carpooled with someone. He asked if he needs to leave work. All I said was “yes, I think so.” The first MRI. Calling my husband’s parents. The news. The words no parent should have to hear. The diagnosis no child should ever get. Collapsing on the stairs in the parking lot, screaming to God to not let this be happening to my baby. Not my baby…

    It’s been almost two years. Three brain surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation…how many lab pokes and lumbar punctures and port accesses and pills later… H is now taller than me. He’s grown so much despite all his body has been through. He’s thriving despite the monster that still resides inside his head. He bears scars both physical and emotional. In 6th grade, and on the track team. We still have our son, and he is happy and relatively healthy. The scars of that first day, and all that have followed, though, are not easy.

    My head hasn’t been in work mode for awhile. I know I’ve let a lot of people down with the 6th Grace book taking so long. I promise I’m still working on it, and slowly the pace is picking up. It’s spring now in the world of the dead. What will grow from the ruins and decay? The dead are closing in…




    Thanksgiving has now passed, but not reasons to be thankful! Before I blog about how awesome the holiday was for our family, I know readers are all anxious for the 6th Grace book to come out. It’s been a really hard year and a half for our family as we’ve been battling our son’s brain cancer. I cannot say it enough – the prayers and concern and understanding from readers has been so heartfelt and I thank you all. Supporting our son during cancer treatment took a lot more of my energy than I ever could have imagined. State of Grace is coming along but I still have a lot of work to do. I’ve been hoping to release for Christmas and am not ruling it out just yet, but it may not be until early next year. My goal is to give you all a great story.

    We spent Thanksgiving at home, just the five of us. It was great to spend the entire day cooking in my pajamas and we were able to just kick back and relax. The next morning, we flew to California to spend 5 days and 4 nights at the Happiest Place on Earth – Disneyland! It was a trip that was planned by his grandparents well over a year ago, before we knew Henrik’s tumor had turned malignant. We weren’t sure he’d even be able to go. This trip, Henrik had no restrictions. He was able to ride the “wild rides” and fell in love with California Screamin’! He played in the park until closing on days 2 and 3 (or 3). It was so incredibly wonderful to see him happy and healthy, and acting like a typical tween. He even said one night at bedtime, “this is the happiest I’ve been in a really long time.”

    Chemotherapy lasted through the summer and into the fall. Radiation lasted for 24 sessions (Mon-Fri) and ended on November 13th. Henrik spent those radiation days nauseous and a bit tired. He had surgery to remove his port (central line for administration of chemotherapy) on Nov 20th. He’s now off of all medications, growing his hair back, and really feeling good. His next MRI will be on December 21st, which will show what (if any) tumor is left.


Snippets to keep you fed!


“Sounds fair,” answer Hoot. “Everyone should grab a small snack and get off their feet for ten.”

I walked closer to Gus and began helping him free Hope from the makeshift sling that was wrapped around his torso.

“We’re going to stop for a bit, Sweet Pea,” I whispered to her.

She nodded while sucking on her thumb. The fair skin of her face was pink and blotchy from the cold, and I began to give serious thought to our decision to leave the mountain before spring was in full force. Gus sensed my concern and placed one of his large hands on my shoulder.

We’ll be ok once we get lower in elevation.

I smiled weakly at him. Hope reached her arms to me and clung to me as I took her from Gus.

“Let’s find a place to go potty,” I whispered to her.

With a lack of disposable diapers and laundry washing ability sub-par, we had potty trained her early. Still, she was young enough to need reminding to avoid an accident.

She hesitantly removed her thumb from her mouth and whispered to me. “I don’t like it here, Mama. Wanna go home.”

I gave her a quick hug before setting her down on theground and simply ran my hand over her bonnet reassuringly. I took her small hand in mine and walked with her to a small clearing between evergreen trees where the snow had melted away. As she finished going to the bathroom I began to pull her homemade tights up when we felt the ground tremor. It was so slight that at first I thought my legs were just shaky. Within seconds I could hear a low rumble that matched the growing unease beneath our feet. (more…)

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