Category Archives: Personal

Memory Is Fickle

Today, as she handed me a copy of my novel to sign, a friend asked me how long this has been┬ámy dream. (Can I just take a moment to bask in that last sentence? A friend asked me to sign … Continue reading

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Writer’s Block? Who, Me?

I’ve always been proud to say I don’t get writer’s block. Believe me, I have plenty of petty work-avoidance techniques that enable me to say that. But until recently, I haven’t been writing. At all. First, there was the craziness … Continue reading

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Invisible Mothers

Nineteen years ago on this day, I became a mother without a child. I don’t talk much about it, mainly because it feels improper somehow, like I’m inflicting myself on others, making them uncomfortable. I’m sorry if this post makes … Continue reading

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“Hamilton: An American Musical”

To borrow a phrase from the show’s author, words fail. Three weeks ago, I became one of the lucky few who got the chance to see “Hamilton” on Broadway. Three months ago, I had never heard of “Hamilton.” Back before … Continue reading

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Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Next week, I will step back into the world of full time employment for the first time since my daughter was born. That was nearly seventeen years ago. I had all kinds of plans to go back sooner, but there … Continue reading

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