Absolutely nothing is as we expected it this year, including Mother’s Day. My daughter and grandson had to play “Ding Dong Ditch” when they delivered the card and beautiful flowers shown above. Sure, we could’ve broken the stay at home orders currently in place but I’d rather have these gifts than an accidental case of COVID-19.

Here’s what I posted as a guest blogger on http://thebipolarwriter.blog earlier today. Enjoy!

This morning, unless something goes awry, I’ll be debuting as a guest contributor on another blog. I’ve joined a team collaborating to write about mental health issues on the blog, The Bipolar Writer Mental Health Blog.

I’m doing the best I can with the current situation. Certain elements are easier than others. Reading, cooking, staying home for days at a time, meditating, exercising…ah, hold up. Physical exertion and I are not close pals.

It’s supposed to snow in Minneapolis for Easter. Normally, that would concern me. Not this year. The vertigo that has plagued me for two weeks has finally subsided. It was an amazing series of events leading to the successful treatment I received.

All things remaining relative, of course. I don’t currently hold a paid position. I’ve recently returned to my sanctuary after a long hiatus. My intention is to resume my meditation practice, get in touch with the Universe and lower my stress level. If I happen to shed a few pounds in the process, so be it.

Hello friends. It’s been twenty-two days since my last post. Things have changed. Like me, you are most likely confined to your home and the forced vacation feels nothing like fun. For obvious reasons, I don’t like to use phrases such as, “driving me crazy” or even “stir-crazy.” There is a distinction between what we’re all going through now and seriously losing your mind, so I’ll try to avoid equating the two.

Yes, things look dim right now. Like Annie, I’m looking forward to tomorrow and the sun coming up. I’ll be heading home. I’ve been marooned in San Antonio with four thousand brave souls who didn’t cancel their plans to attend the AWP conference. Two-thirds of the attendees and a bigger percentage of the panelists decided to stay home.

It’s not perfect, but there is no such thing in the book world. What it is, my friends, is finished. For decades, I’ve wanted to quote Yul Brynner in the Ten Commandments in regards to my book. Now I can.

It’s been a long and winding road and I see the end, finally. I wish I had an accurate word count for how many I’ve typed in the process of writing my memoir, The Second . If the average book is 80,000 words, I’ve easily written eight times that. Yikes. The versions are legion, as well as the titles.

When I accomplish a goal, I wish I had a button to push. It would play a recording of one of those European soccer announcers celebrating the ball making it in the net. I don’t speak Spanish or Italian, but their passion for the game is contagious. I’m going to start my next writing day by finding a clip of of that drawn out, Goooooooooalllll! It’s fabulous.

Ihave another story to tell you. This family photo was my Christmas card thirty-one years ago. One of my dearest friends received it and declared the image and my family perfect. I politely thanked her and marveled at how one click of a camera lens can convey such deception.

Wow. I’ve been spending a lot of time researching comparable and competitive titles as I prepare to publish my memoir. The first pool I dipped my toe into was general memoir.

I vented a little in yesterday’s post, lamenting the lack of usable comps and writers of mental health memoirs who are with it. I neglected to mention someone who’s work I admire. The inimitable, the amazing…Jenny Lawson aka The Bloggess.

New beginnings started yesterday. I’m not totally giving 2019 the bum’s rush because it was a decent year for me. In fact, it was downright remarkable. I put my nose to the grindstone and worked almost single-mindedly on a project that has been haunting most of my adult life. My memoir is essentially written, in need of final edits.

This is how I feel today. I’m taking a few days off from writing to make a couple of pies and enjoy Thanksgiving with my family. I have cooked a turkey almost every year since I was twenty-four. This year, I’m a guest at my sister’s house and I’m responsible for dessert. This is completely in my wheelhouse.

Well, I got my editor’s notes regarding my draft memoir on Friday. In an attempt to prepare myself for the worst, I imagined all the negative things she could have written. None of those things came to pass. She also did not declare the book the greatest thing she’d ever read. I knew there’d be room for improvement in the draft and apparently she thought so too.

Today is a big day. After six weeks away from my draft, I’m having a teleconference with my editor to hear her feedback. To get in a receptive frame of mind, I watched vintage Brené Brown in her inaugural TEDx talk about vulnerability. I hadn’t seen it in a while and her simple yet fierce courage always inspires me.

When I started this blog, I actually believed I could fill the spaces with funny, anecdotal stories about writing. Surely my wit could carry the day, right? As it turns out, I was mistaken. After this week, it feels disingenuous to project such a simple, one-sided view. It’s not about the lighter side of life. In fact, I’m making some changes to the site to reflect more honest content.

In honor of Mental Health Awareness Week, I thought I’d post a picture of my beautiful family from the year I was diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder. It was a tough summer for everybody. We were able to fit in a vacation in August, shown above, in Pequot Lakes, MN.