Babies, Human and Print

I’m thinking about birthdays because my first child was born 12 years (and 15  minutes) ago.

A lot has changed in those 12 years (and now 16 minutes); he’s off at school, celebrating with his friends, and I’m here alone with my computer. It has me thinking about another birth I want to celebrate — that of my book nearly 6 years ago, Deliver Me: True Confessions of Motherhood.


First, let me tout, the website I used to publish it, because it helped me become a best-selling author and editor. Best-selling, you ask? Yes. Deliver Me: True Confessions of Motherhood, was a Village Books bestseller, in glorious Pacific Palisades, California. For a week, maybe two, I used to walk past the bookstore so I could gaze at my book propped up alongside other, perhaps more well-known, best-sellers. I felt like a proud parent gazing into the hospital nursery where all the gorgeous little new ones lay in their bassinets, but I only had eyes for my own.

The collection (available also on Amazon) is filled with true stories by 20 deeply talented writers, all of whom agreed to donate proceeds from book sales to help homeless families through Beyond Shelter. I pick it up every now and then and am genuinely surprised at how good it is. (Toot! Yes, that’s my own horn. But also the horns of 19 other writers, so it’s okay. And also let me thank Jessica Heisen for creating the cover.)

I’m writing to you today (aka procrastinating) as I embark on my next collection, this time by one writer, alone, me! Not sure what it will look like yet, but it’s time a new book was born. Or delivered.

P.S. I’m told you can get it as an eBook at

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