I just got back from the National Bridge Championships in Reno. Rinse and repeat: I went to Reno to play in the National Championships in the newbie category. Friends, writing a book is cake compared to playing Bridge under tournament conditions. I am so happy to be home, released from the cavernous underworld of the El Dorado hotel and casino. I had no idea that the competitive world of Bridge could be so intense or how nervous I would get when it came time to bid or play the hand. I had no idea that this entire sub-culture existed. After all, my mother exclusively played at home with her ladies. When she was the dummy, she’d get up and wash the grapes. No noshing at the ACBL National Championships. No talking or texting. It’s intimidating and the people who say it’s just a game would sooner take your tonsils out than give up a trick. I finished in the 36th percentile. #walkofshame
What do you do for fun?
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Someone 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.
I spent the weekend with my great friend from graduate school, 
Betsy Lerner 