Lynda McDaniel

Writer & Writing Coach



Seminars & Coaching


I love corporate theater.  That's what what trade shows are to me--a chance to break with more traditional marketing formats and to try something fresh.  New ideas, creative concepts and a reasonable budget are my trademarks.


"The 'Transus Truck Stop' was the hit of the show largely as a result of your creativity, enthusiasm and diligent attention to detail.  As always, it was a pleasure to work with you."

--Dick Simms   Transus Motor Freight Systems


My projects for trade shows and events:

Transus "Truck Stop" booth

Interactive Menu


National Award


Neon Sign

"Spurred by studies that show the high memorability of exhibits with high person-to-person contact, McDaniel created what she calls 'a pot-brewing, belly-up to the counter' truck stop pleasure.'  ...To harmonize with NIT's theme, 'Computerization of the Trucking Industry' Transus computerized the menu, which included 12 entrees [about their services]..."                                                      Exhibitor Magazine

Du Pont

Du Pont Presents Dimensions '86

One talk-show set, two satellite booths and dozens of nationally known experts produced a softer sell that hit harder, yielding hundreds of qualified leads and excited new customers.

Glasrock Home Health Care

"There's No Place

Like Home"

A fresh approach to  marketing that captured the audience's attention and brought the competition over to see what all the fuss was about!

(Read the script...)



Setting: An older woman sitting in a pleasantly
old-fashioned sitting room, embroidering.

Lights come up.

ADDIE REBECCA: Lord, I love this old house. I do.

But there was more than a time or two in the hospital that I was sure I’d never see it again. Now, listen, they took good care of me there—they took damned good care of me—those nice young doctors coming around at all hours of the day and night. “And how are we this evening, Mrs. McMahan?” And I’d say, “Me and this oxygen contraption are getting by, but you’re in big trouble because WE(!) can’t breathe!”

And those nurses! Just as sweet as could be—telling me how I’d be out of there in no time. Why, there was this one who would come by every day to see if I’d missed “General Hospital,” you know, on account of being hauled off for some test or therapy or something. And if I’d missed it that day, she would sit right there and tell everything that happened so that I wouldn’t get behind in the story. Not that SHE had time to be watching—but one patient or another always gave her the scoop. That dear woman’s kindness, (sigh) I truly believe did as much as anything to see me through four weeks, three days, 17 hours and 21 minutes in the hospital.

I mean, let’s face it! (voice drops) A month and some in any hospital isn’t exactly a weekend on Cape Cod. No sirree, there no place like home! (motions around the set.)

And nobody seemed to understand that better than that wonderful woman who made all the arrangement for met to get back home—in style. Discharge planner I believe was her fancy title. (motions to audience) Is that the right name? Well, then you all know what her day was like. While I was talking to her, her phone rang eleven times. I know because she was so polite she kept taking messages on this sheet of white paper, and I counted them. Eleven! My phone doesn’t ring that much in a week—but I guess that sounds like heaven to you folks. (motions to audience again and coughs slightly.)

Lord God, this emphysema! (she places palm of hand on her chest) It ain’t no picnic! But Addie Rebecca McMahan hasn’t ever(!) let anything get her down—and she’s not going to now.

It’s like when my husband Frank passed on. Oohh, how bad I felt! Even now, I don’t take a breath without thinking of Frank, you know, somewhere deep down. (She points to an 8x10 portrait on the night table.) That’s Frank.

We spent 43 wonderful years together—35 of them right here in this house—and for weeks after I lost him I would just sit and think about the many, many wonderful memories we made. But then one day it was just … different, somehow. I just sort of decided it was time to return to the present.

I remember what I did. I called up my best friends, Muriel Bonaparte, and I said, “Muriel, do you remember what we used to do every Wednesday night back when Bud and Frank were overseas?” Frank and Muriel’s husband, Bud, were in the Navy together back during World War II. “Muriel,” I said, “why don’t you and I go bowling?” That suited her—and off we went. Well, it ended up that within a month we were in a bowling league twice a week for practice and once a week in competition.

Our team is made up of wives and widows of Navy Yard retirees. Our team captain, Amanda Thrasher, always brings one of those portable cassette blasters and plays our fight song, “Anchors Aweigh,” whenever one of us rolls a strike. Well, the doctors say I can’t bowl anymore—not right now—but Sunday night is the semi-finals, and you can be your bottom dollar that I’ll be right there cheering.

(Enter Glasrock technician. He waves – then starts checking equipment. She waves back.)

Thank the good Lord for these Glasrock folks. I guess I’d still be at the hospital if it weren’t for them. I’d probably know what happened yesterday on the soaps—I’ve been so busy I’ve missed a few—but then I think I can sacrifice that for this.
(Motions all around her, then reflects silently for a moment.)

When they told me I’d have to have help with my breathing, I dreaded what I’d look like. I don’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that I’m still vain after all these years. (fusses with hair in classic primp) But it’s more than vanity I can assure you. Marthy Maxwell had to start using oxygen, and they put these tubes up her nose and she couldn’t get around so good. Now mind you, when you’re struggling for a breath, you don’t care if they stick a turkey baster up there, but once you catch your breath and you get a little oxygen to your brain—you start thinking about QUALITY of life, too.

That’s why I feel so lucky to have this new technology from Glasrock working for me. Was a time when I cursed all those computers and highfalutin high-tech. But now as far as I’m concerned they can run those computers round the clock—(lower tone—an aside) and I think they do at Glasrock—if it’s going to help others the way this (touches her throat) has helped me.

It’s called (said very deliberately) Trans-trach-e-al Oxy-gen Ther-a-py. How about that? I said it right! The first time I tried I got all tongue-tied, but now it rolls off my tongue about as smoothly as the oxygen flows into my poor old lungs.

(Pats throat again) It’s called SCOOP for short. I guess because they let you get the scoop on it before you ever try it—I went to the clinic and watched some TV shows about it and then talked to real people who were using SCOOP. That was nice … (pointing to audience with sweeping motion and using a disclaimer tone of voice) Not that I don’t trust all you good people, but there is nothing like talking to someone in your own predicament. They all loved it—said they breathed better, slept better and got around great. Like what’s his name used to say on TV—“get a new lease on life with Geratol.” Only SCOOP’s got Geratol beat by a mile.

There were a couple of simple steps involved over a period of a few weeks and ‘voila!’ (pats it again) we were off and running—well, maybe walking. They tell me it is more effective and less expensive than that nose one because it uses less oxygen—which is great, because I’ve got a fine family to leave my money to rather than having it go up in thin air (hand to throat again and laughs at pun).

Frank and I raised four beautiful children in this house.

Frank, Jr. He’s his daddy’s boy. I look at him, and I understand how one thing just naturally leads to the next.

Elizabeth Ann—my princess. Yes I do get onto her for being 36 years old and not married—even once. But I know she’s happy because she’s where she wants to be—doing what she want to do! I just wish they had better telephone service in that Sri Lanka.

(Motions to Glasrock technician)

Excuse me, Charlie, would you hand me that picture? Thanks. This one is J. Robert McMahan, Esquire—high priced Harvard lawyer. See these flowers? (points to dresser) Every Monday and Thursday they are out of here! J. Robert sends a whole new set-up—prettier than the last.

And my baby Stevie. Oh, did we spoil that child!

(Off-stage voice: “Mom, lunch will be up in a minute.”)

That’s Donna, Steve’s third wife. Isn’t she sweet? She left Steve and the boys back in Utica and brought little Kimberly here so she could, you know, help out with things that I’m not quite up to yet. They’ll be here until just after Thanksgiving.

This afternoon, Donna’s taking Kimberly to the Boston Aquarium. And in a couple of weeks, Steve’s bringing the boys up, and we’re all going to see the Celtics at the Garden. Now understand, I’m not saying I can cuss the refs the way I used to but I can still make my presence known. Oohh … that Larry Bird … (rolls eye and smiles as though remembering old romantic exploits).

(Shakes herself out of reverie)
Now Charlie here is my real buddy. He comes every week and makes sure SCOOP and me are behaving. There are a couple of things I have to do, like cleaning out this tube once a day, but that’s no more trouble than brushing my teeth. (taps front tooth with forefinger) And I am proud to say these are MY teeth—that’s one thing I’ve been able to hang onto.

Yeah, Charlie here checks on me regularly and brings me everything I need. It’s nice to see a familiar face every time, too. And, glory be, those Glasrock folks even filled out my insurance forms for me—Charlie, did you do that for me too?

(Charlie smiles and shakes his head “no.”)

Well, anyway, they’re all good to me here in Boston. And if I want to go to Portland, Oregon, to see Millie Winslow—she was our best bowler, threw strikes darn near every time, but decided to move closer to her kids—or to Dallas, Texas, to visit Frank’s sister—shoot, I can go anywhere in America and there will be Glasrock folks there to help. Makes a body breathe easier, if you know what I mean. (Smiles again at her pun, patting her chest.)

Well, Donna’ll be up in a minute, so I want to get freshened up. But I’ll see you around again sometime—like at Quincy Market or the museum or right here next hour. Just not at the hospital if you’ll beg my pardon!

Bye now.

(Lights dim, spotlight on Glasrock representative.)

Copyright © 2006, Lynda McDaniel. All rights reserved.