I was defending my decision not to go back into therapy to my husband today. The time. The money. But mostly the agony. For the first time in my life I’m happy with my misery. Do you feel me? I always went to therapy to change. Then I realized (after 30 years) that I was never going to change and was happy for “awareness”. Happy to stop acting out at every family gathering. Then what? Please don’t get me wrong I think therapy is critical for many people and most writers. But I’m no longer willing or able to jump down the well and climb my way out with a spoon. I’m okay with crying at the dry cleaner for “no reason.” I understand that given the chance to imagine the best or worst in something I will always go for the latter. I’m okay with the voices in my head. Though they could be a little nicer.

Is this a cop out?

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P.T Barnum once said (and I paraphrase):

What happens when you don’t do any marketing? Nothing.

To that end, I want to thank everyone who sent in a marketing idea. All really cool. But this isn’t first grade t-ball where everyone is a winner I’m sorry to say. The three winners are:

In third place: Host brewery and Bridge events. (I feel we could attract some dudes to Bridge which would be awesome. MKBove

In second place: partner with Entemann’s. This was the brand of cakes my mother served on Bridge nights. I actually thought they were only for Jewish people. Best was the cellophane window on the top of the box which we peered into like the bakery glass. afucking writer

In first place: a James Corden carpool karaoke style video. I literally just got Spotify and figured out how to place my phone in car to record Roz and me singing her favorite, “What’ll I do” and mine “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Tiffany

Winners please send me your snail mail at Betsy@dclagency.com and THANK YOU AGAIN TO ALL.

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My hero P.T. Barnum

Guys, I have been promoting the fuck out of the The Bridge Ladies. Readings, playing Bridge at synagogues, sandwich boards, direct mailing, giveaways, Skyping, sacrifice of first born and writing articles. Like this one, ahem, published on Medium.com today, about my adventures in Reno at the ACBL (Bridge) National Championships where my mother and I and finished in the (spoiler alert) 31st percentile.

I’ll send a free signed copy for the best three marketing ideas you send in. More marketing! I can’t stop!

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My mother and I ride again. This morning to the Reform Temple of Westchester in Scarsdale where we will play Bridge with a group of women, followed by my giving a reading, followed by my mother stealing the show during the Q&A. Afterwards, I fully expect a shopping trip to the Westchester Mall where I will revert to my teenage self in the fitting rooms and have a melt down when she weighs in on what looks “flattering” or asks for the four millionth time why I have to wear black.

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Okay, guys, my book is #8 on the Toronto bestseller list. I know. Take it easy. Some of my best friends are Canadian: Ryan Gosling, Paul Anka, Donald Sutherland, Justin Bieber and my main man, Keanu. It’s funny, too, because when people ask my mother how she feels about the book, she says she’s moving to Canada. Canada, get off my D. I love you Neil Young.

Margaret Atwood or Alice Munro? Explain.

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I’m watching Me, Earl and the Dying Girl for the third time, okay fourth. I am in love with this young actor Thomas Mann. And the girl (Olivia Cooke) is the first since Ali McGraw who I don’t want to die. Usually, I’m like pull the fucking plug and take us all out of our misery.

What’s your favorite dead girl movie?

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TOnight was the big launch event at the JCC with the Bridge Ladies: Rhoda, Bette, Jackie and my mother Roz. We had over 200 people and I think at least half of them had been to my bat mitzvah. I’m a lot less angry than I was then. Nothing like thirty years of therapy to round out some of the rough edges. It was really fun. They sold out the books. The ladies were marvelous. I read the gefilte fish excerpt, which is a crowd pleaser. We did it. We did it! Thanks to everyone who came out. IT was wonderful.

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Last night my mother and I did a Q&A at RJ Julia, Connecticut’s premier indie bookstore. She was wearing a pink sweater set, her red-framed glasses, and seemed really nervous. But when it was her turn to answer, she was thoughtful and warm and succinct. When asked a question she didn’t want to answer she said, “as we say in Bridge, pass.” Mom! Killing it! We’ll be at the Westport B&N tomorrow at 3 and the New Haven JCC on SUnday from 4-6 if you’re anywhere in the vicinity — please join us. xo, B

Tell me about your mom.

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Okay, so i’m giving my first reading tomorrow with one eyebrow. So be it. To my dearest darling readers of this blog since I started it some seven or more years ago: thank you. I found my voice here (and I know how douchy that sounds). But I let my freak flag fly and you generally encouraged me. Except for the guy who said he wanted to stab me and Patti Smith together with a pitchfork. Sure. I get it.

Right now, as expected, self-loathing and slight activation have arrived right on time. DOn’t tell me to feel better. It only makes me more murderous. I’m sick you guys. I haven’t been kidding.

Come out if you can: THe Corner Bookstore. 1313 Madison Avenue 6-7:30 Would be great to see you. xo

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