I never had a burning desire to be a writer, but then I got inspired by my 20-something daughter’s wailing and whimpering about how tough life was, living on her own.  Her car was probably towed (for the third time) or her roommate ate her last banana, I don’t remember, but something she said struck a chord with me.  She whined that she ought to write a book about all the mistakes she’d made – and learned from – like paying attention when the car’s oil light went on, or getting a lesson on making the perfect baked potato.  I was always offering motherly suggestions to my daughters and their friends – and strangers on the street – to button their coats, eat their vegetables, or get to bed early.  And coming from a family of class clowns – my Dad’s nickname is Bozo, for Pete’s sake – the book must be funny.  Having seen enough kids roll their eyes when being lectured, I knew the information would be concise and throwing in lots of comical illustrations would engage them long enough to read my snippets of advice, and hopefully help them to avoid a few of the pitfalls of independence that await the young and the clueless. 

With an infusion of cash from a supportive husband and a boatload of stomach butterflies, this 50-something, stay-at-home mom gave birth to “50 Ways to Leave Your Mother.”  Little did I know that writing the book was the easy part, and that many hours of Googling, studying, and teeth-grinding in my sleep were part of the self-publishing process.

I don’t need to share the details of my particular journey, you are all writers, and I have come to deeply respect the profession and the writing process from start to finish, complete with the inevitable rejection, teeth-grinding, and stomach butterflies.