What is a mother?
What does a mother do?
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A quick update: I have a new piece up on McSweeney’s “I Know the Motive Behind Every Mass Shooting”. As I’ve mentioned previously, I haven’t been able to write any conceptual pieces for over a year. I was going through so much, my brain has been in a constant state of overload that entire time. So I take it as a good sign that that part of my brain has begun working again, perhaps it means I’m making my way out the other side. Sidebar: I just looked up the last piece I had on McSweeney’s before this one, knowing it’s been a while. Imagine my delight when I saw that it was “If You Love to Write Just Wait Until You Try Not Writing” — a concept I apparently took to heart!
What is a mother? What does a mother do?
Mother’s Day has become the adult equivalent of my Valentine’s Day experience in high school: forced, disappointing, designed to make me feel bad, specifically.
Unfortunately for me and my terrible personality, the subject of my first book, AMATEUR HOUR, means Mother’s Day is also a sales hook. One that I have forgotten just about every year since. The year after it came out I scrambled to post about it again, offered to sign books at my local book store, dropped off some copies at little free libraries. But that’s over now. Launching that book was an incredible ride, one of the craziest and most fulfilling experiences of my life. But it was also quite complicated, personally. That’s because before that book launched, the decision to divorce had already been made.
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