Me: mother, wife and writer recently sideswiped by 40. The writer part used to come first, the 40 used to be a 30, and marriage and motherhood were abstract activities I thought I’d try someday. Growing up. If only it was the thrill promised when we were six.
I started this blog two years ago to chronicle my quest to publish a book. Who would have dreamed it would actually work? I have two books coming out this year. Far out. Still, this living-and-succeeding thing is experimental theatre, and the question remains—will I bloom, eventually? Or will I ditch the whole writing thing, adopt a xanax habit, abandon my own identity and live the rest of my life vicariously through my children? Hmm, let’s find out.