Other Writings

I’ve been thinking about heartbreak. At 57, it would not have been possible to have escaped the experience. And at 57, it would have been foolish not to have recovered, given all my good fortune.
There are those selves we see in the mirror. In particular, I’d like to give a shout out to my new jowls. Hey friends. Then there are those selves others build for us with the tools of social media. OK, Boomer.
My first wedding took place in the Helmsley Palace, in New York City, on a white cold evening. The second, in San Francisco’s City Hall, in blue August. While that might sound like a big difference, actually not. Both times I chose ornate and other-era venues, beautiful without decoration. Both times I chose a season slightly unusual for the town. New York is drizzly and gray in January, as is San Francisco, in August.
I imagine that most of you reading Corporette are working women. I was one myself for many years. And, now, it appears, I’ve semi-retired. I remember dreaming, on grey days full of mean emails and meandering meetings, of what it would be like to be done with it all. And now I know. Here’s what I miss, and what I don’t miss at all. By the way, you’ll notice I don’t mention the paycheck. That goes without saying. Getting paid rocks.
I wanted to talk about privilege, about rapture, about the short sweetness of life. I remember sitting in the car, saying to a colleague, "I want to write a blog." So I did.
America loves its father myths. Many belong to our sons, and involve common redemption. But women have fathers, too. And over the years, we too grow into that relationship.
There have been chocolates, and roses, and love letters, and tears over the years. But of the Valentine's Days I can recall, the things I glued persist.

About My Novels

My first novel taught me what I didn’t know about writing fiction. Spoiler: so much. It’s a story about two women, one older, one younger, who become friends in the course of a high-pressure startup launch. Turns out they have a lot to teach eachother. I’ll rewrite it in the not-too-distant future, using what I learned writing novel #2.

Said second novel is a romance. A woman of a certain age, working over the holidays at a fancy home goods store, meets an unusualRussian millionaire. However, her husband has just died of Alzheimer’s, he’s spent decades building walls around his heart (albeit beautiful ones), and it turns out, yes, they have a lot to teach each other.

I can’t help but believe in relationships. I plan to query novel#2 in the first half of 2023. Updates to follow, on my blog.