How’s this for a conundrum? I spent eight years writing a book about divorce, then when I finally reached those two magic words I’d been certain would never materialize on the page—the end—I discovered that I was expected to talk about it. A lot.
In my mind, once I put the story on paper, I’d never again have to relate this difficult time in my life. If someone had a question about my past, I could point them toward the nearest bookstore and say “Read the book.” I could move on to writing happier, made-up stories.









