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They Say as a Child I Appeared a Little Bit Wild

 

tumblr_m5agp4ws751rxiaoto1_500Someone recently asked me if I felt anxious about the book coming out because it is so personal. Get to know me. I’m anxious because it might not sell. I’m anxious because the New York Times might say mean things, or worse say nothing at all. I’m anxious because if I fail it’s not only in front of my friends and family, but the publishing profession where I work. I’m anxious because I’m not in therapy and I probably should be. I’m anxious because I don’t feel like myself, meaning I feel a little hopeful and that is just not part of the package.  I’m anxious because it’s all out of my hands now with the exception of boosting Facebook pages and going up and down Fifth avenue in the sandwich boards I’ve made with the Queen of Hearts on both sides.

What makes you anxious about getting your work out there? What’s your worst fear?

Yesterday Don’t Matter If It’s Gone

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I know it looks like The Bridge Ladies have hijacked my blog about writing, depression, and how publishing will break your heart in a hundred different ways. The Bridge Ladies is my new book and it’s coming out in May and if you love me even a little please buy a copy or 200 for your local synagogue’s sisterhood. Or pre-order. 😉

So I’m working on changing the blog and trying to keep it the same. I’m trying to lose weight and am gaining it instead. I’m trying to sleep through the night but I’m up every hour. It’ been seven years since I published a book and I feel as nervous as a virgin. I want to spread the word about Bridge Ladies and hear from people about their  Bridge memories. But I also want to throw my mashed potatoes on the floor and spit peas through a straw at the ceiling.

I’m thinking about blogging about the publication of the book. Is this interesting or even more indulgent than the thousand plus posts I’ve dumped on a beautiful and unsuspecting world.

What would you do if you were me?

My Dream It Lingered Near

 

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Three years ago, I started working on a new book. It was going nowhere fast and my husband kept saying that I had to use my blog voice. My what? My sociopath voice? My whiney vaginey voice? My pitted, potted, sometimes besotted voice. My childlike wonder, my hemorrhoidal idyll, my knock knock give a dog a bone. Short story long: my new book is coming out in May, 2016. It wouldn’t exist if not for the four years of writing here, the incredible love and support from our merry band. Even the guy who said he wanted to kill me and Patti Smith with a pitchfork. You gave me the chance to develop my voice, and as we say in these parts, I finished the fucker. Will say more about it soon. Until then, THANK YOU dearest readers of this blog. Love, Betsy

I Had Some Friends But They’re Gone

I started an account on Facebook a few months ago. Friends, it’s a shit show. First of all, the graphics are hideous. Doesn’t Mark Z. have enough cash to give the site a clean design. I can’t tell a notification from a comment from the feed. My email is flooded with notices about stuff I can’t see because I can’t remember my password. I don’t care if it’s the Pope’s birthday. I prefer a birthday wish that comes in the form of a Hallmark card preferably with cash. I don’t get “liking” something. I’m a hater, as you know if you’ve been hanging out here. I really don’t get it. I will say that it looks as if Shana is having a high time and she looks better than Lena Dunham as a blonde. Maybe I joined a day late and dollar short, but I feel like the girl at party who hugs the wall and watches ice melt in the bottom of a plastic cup, and nobody puts baby in the corner. Okay, I’m on my fourth episode of Law and Order and that means it’s time for jammies. I think I need to stay here in Mr. ROgers neighborhood where I belong.

Are you on FB. Are you happy? Popular and by that I mean how many friends do you have and would your recognize any of them in a crowded elevator?