Despite my own insecurities as an intellectually under-stimulated mommy of four wild children, ages 2 through 12, my memoir, DROP DEAD LIFE, a pregnant widow’s poignant, heartfelt, and often comic journey through death, birth, and rebirth, has recently sparked enthusiastic literary agent interest.
So, what this means, I imagine, is that my book will eventually end up in your local stores.
Still difficult for me to believe, but it is going to happen. In other words, I can no longer post chapters-in-progress on my blog, for fear that you will not want to stand in line to purchase the actual book.
A solution? Suggestions? The best I’ve come up with is to write about life, in the present. No longer will I be the pregnant widow journeying through death and grief-stricken birth, but, instead, will be the writer, mother, wife, photographer, and soul-searcher who must finish this memoir, despite the need to change diapers, cart kids to therapy, and drink vodka lemon drops.
If I can inspire others to manifest their own love and happiness, then I have found the meaning in my existence. This is, after all, a DROP DEAD LIFE.