Look Mom… I’m published!

loveySo, today my name is in print- in an anthology called Listen to Your Mother, edited my Ann Imig. A story I wrote “All You Need Is Lovey” is in a real live book.  I feel like a proud mom.  Here’s how this came to be…

Three years ago, I saw an audition on Facebook for a show called “Listen To Your Mother.” It’s a nationwide phenomenon started by Ann Imig, spanning 39 cities now, where writers share personal stories about motherhood.  With all the nerves of my pre-acting days, plus leaky postpartum boobs and hormones, I signed up for an audition.  I wrote two pieces for that day.  One was a dark deep expose of my experience with postpartum depression, and one was just for fun- about the day I ran around town like a maniac looking for my son’s lovey.  I nursed my baby, took a shower (!) and ran downtown for the audition.  The feeling of reading my story was cathartic, I was sure that the world wanted to hear about my depth, my journey.  Then, just for fun, I left them a copy of other essay as well.  I said lightly, “I wrote this one, too- cause I couldn’t decide.”

After the audition, I was a wreck.  I went between “Why did I even try to do this?  I LEFT acting for a reason!” and “I bet they hated me!  I’m not good enough,” blah blah blah.   Until a little voice message made me remember what I loved about acting- Being picked!  With baited breath, I called Pam back.    I saw it all ahead of me- the tears, the catharsis, letting loose my triumphant story of healing.  And then Pam said one more little sentence.  “Um- so, would you mind doing the funny one?”

My heart stopped.  Now, for the longest time, I’ve resisted my own dharma.  In Acting School, I wanted to be Lady Macbeth, but got cast as the jester.  I wanted to be the romantic lead, but got thrown in as the funny sidekick.  And here it was again.  A little wind out of my sails, but still thrilled, I said I would be honored to read.  The funny one.

The first rehearsal, I listened to the amazing stories (two others from my show are also published in this anthology). The depth, the heart-wrenching stories- the amazing things these people (and their mothers) had lived through broke me open.  I cried so hard, I was glad there wasn’t an audience yet.   We went through about three boxes of Kleenex in two hours.  I felt deeply honored to be among these writers.

The days leading up to the show, a tummy bug ripped through my house like a twister through Kansas.  There was a lot of laundry, and a lot of people lying around. But I was fine. I was sure I would be untouched because I had a show- and the show must go on!  I washed my hands diligently, and felt fine… until I didn’t.  Twenty-four hours before the big night, I was praying to the porcelain gods for mercy.  I purged every meal I’d even thought about.  And I cried- lying on the bathroom floor, thinking of the absurdity- how much this show meant to me, how much we try to do as mothers, and how we are still at the mercy of life, our children, and tummy bugs.

By morning, I was wobbly, but no longer needing to lie on the bathroom floor.  I looked at my husband and said feebly, “the show must go on…”

In some ways it was a blessing.  It lowered the bar.  Instead of worrying about how good I was going to be, I was now praying not to puke. Just read the story, and don’t puke- that would be success. As I sat and listened to these brave writers, many of which had never been on stage, my spirit lifted.  I knew I would be fine.  I felt the audience go on a ride with each speaker, like an emotional amusement park of life experiences.  And as I stood up to share my piece, I also realized something… this audience needed to laugh.

And I did what I have done my whole life- I made them laugh. But through the laughter, I realized my story, one of a mother’s dedication to her son’s happiness, rang true through the audience.  There was a resonance, and it continued afterwards. All night, people shared with me their stories of Loveys- deeply loved (and sometimes lost) over their lifetime.  I heard the cherished names:  “Moo-moo, Pink, Bed Ted, and Tigey”

When Ann Imig emailed me a year ago and asked if I would consider having “All You Need Is Lovey” in her anthology, I was thrilled. And last week, the advance copy arrived- and I began to read all the stories- and again was touched by the beauty, the heartache, the immense humor.  All I can say is I am so glad to be in there.

Who knew a Lovey could mean so much?

This morning I feel grateful to all mothers- to the heroic acts of love, the losses suffered, the laughter, and the deep inspiring grit.  I’m grateful to Ann Imig- for this movement, for the book, and for the opportunity to share our stories. Without deadlines, many mothers (including me) wouldn’t find time to write, amidst the butt-wiping, lunch-making, and tummy bugs.  These small moments at my computer remind me that I’m not only a mother, but  a writer. When we share our stories, it makes it all a little more doable,  Thank you for giving motherhood a voice.

For a video reading of All You Need is Lovey (post all night tummy flu), go here:

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3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Vikki
    Apr 07, 2015 @ 12:24:09

    Congratulations! What a journey and claiming that title of writer is powerful.

    Reply

  2. Katie
    Apr 07, 2015 @ 15:03:49

    Thank you Vikki!

    Reply

  3. Lisa
    Apr 07, 2015 @ 18:29:44

    Way to go Katie! Beautiful. Thank you for sharing. Xo

    Reply

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