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This summer, I finished I book. Just kidding! This summer I’m about four chapters from finishing the current draft of my novel-in-progress, I’m totally starting to believe in it again, and so it was imperative that I procrastinate. I did it thus: updating the old book! I love the new cover. The book is a cancer story, yes, but it’s written as a thank you note to the people in
I may have mentioned, but I am all here for all the new year hype. Over the years, I’ve done it all. I’ve made goals (finish the novel in 2018! Nope). I’ve listed new habits I planned to adopt in order to reach the goals (face the page every day). I’ve chosen one word. I’ve chosen three words. This year, I did a worksheet that leads you to your “true north” (i.e.,
Today is the nineteenth anniversary of my motherhood. Yay me, except…I have been a mother long enough to finish one human-plus-one-year, and nothing feels finished at all. I never decided if I should pick him up or let him cry it out. Scheduled meals and naps or no? I haven’t learned to relax when the thing at hand is really just a phase. I still don’t buy dress pants before