It was just past 6:30 and the party started at 7:00. There were boxes of books and tablecloths and candles and wine to be unloaded, food to be unpacked and beautifully arranged, microphones and music and smartphones to hook up.
There was a lot to do to prepare the rented space for my book launch celebration party and not much time to do it.
Writing is hard. There’s no point softening that sentence with qualifiers. It’s just hard.
James Joyce said, “Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives.” Elizabeth Gilbert says that 90% of her writing life consists of nothing more than unglamorous, disciplined labor. “I work like a farmer,” she says, “and that’s how it gets done.”
Last night, I got up at 2:30 am to get a drink of water. For some mysterious reason, I suddenly remembered a gift I’d received more than twenty years ago. A work colleague gave my fiance and me an early wedding present; it was a water decanter with matching glasses that had the words ‘his’ and ‘hers’ etched on them. They must have struck us, in our arrogant twenties, as old-fashioned because we made fun of them and gave them away.
I’ve always been ashamed of that.
It’s been a while since I’ve watched daytime TV, much less a talk show. But this week I’ve been tuning in to one particular show, and I want to encourage you to do the same. Not every day—just next Tuesday, when I’ll appearing on ABC7 Windy City Live to talk about my book.
I have no idea what to write.
As I was thinking about today’s blog, these were the only words running through my mind. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.
It made me realize that I’ve been saying this a lot lately. I was at a gathering recently with other She Writes Press authors and one woman asked me how I was feeling about my upcoming book release.
Seeing the groups of runners along the lake training for next month’s Chicago Marathon has brought back memories of my own brief experience as a marathon runner.
More than a decade ago I took on the challenge of completing the Chicago Marathon, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My IT band began burning before I hit the halfway mark, and the pain had me ready to give up in the last mile. I needed to be screamed at, pushed, and nearly carried in order to cross the finish line.
If you’ve ever been laid low by illness or injury, you know how frustrating it is to lie there thinking of all the things you should be doing. You plan how you’ll “catch up.” You make a lot of promises to yourself. Once I feel better, I’ll exercise. I’ll cook more. I’ll go to the beach and sit in the sand. And I’ll balance that with being super productive. I’ll write every day. I’ll do the dishes!
My ex-husband and his new wife were a picture-perfect couple. So much so that they were photographed for the cover of Crain’s Chicago Business magazine. They were featured in an article about how stepparents are supposedly either relegated to support status or are simply invisible.
But his new wife wasn’t invisible. She posed with him and our three children on the front steps of my house — sorry, now their house— as if she had lived there for more than two months.
Today I want to write about falling down.
I fell down ten days ago, struck with a sudden and severe case of vertigo that brought me to the floor, then kept me in bed, unable to lift my head.
When I was able to open my eyes, I scrolled through Facebook and watched a few videos. One was of a woman talking about giving herself permission to fall apart. Another was a Ted Talk about allowing girls to fail.
After learning of my husband’s multiple affairs and years of deceit, I chose to transform my pain by surrendering to it and living in “real time.” I was a spiritual seeker and life-long storyteller, but could I rise above my own story of betrayal to gratefully embrace the present moment?
Gold Medal Winner, Living Now Book Awards
Gold Medal Winner, Human Relations Indie Book Awards
Finalist, Parenting and Family, 2108 Best Book Awards
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions