I tried, a year ago when my book was published, to see what was ahead. And of course it soon became obvious that I could see nothing at all.
I was not one of those authors who pops a bottle of champagne the day the first finished copy arrives on the doorstep. In fact, the opposite. There had been one mildly positive review in Publishers Weekly, not much else to make the world sit up and take notice, and I was pretty certain that “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” would come and go without leaving so much as a trace. That, I told myself, was just fine with me. After all, there had been so many times, as I was writing it, that I completely lost confidence in what I was doing.
Why should anyone need three hundred pages anyway, just to work through some rather personal and complicated feelings about mid-life and children growing up and leaving home? And more to the point, why would anyone feel compelled to read a memoir in which no one’s marriage falls apart, no deep dark secret is unearthed, no goal is reached, no great epiphany ever achieved?
“What are you writing about?” various friends and acquaintances would ask along the way. I never did figure out how to answer: “Um, myself. Getting older. The kids changing. How hard it is to live with them, and how it’s even harder to let them go. Wondering what’s next, what really matters, and, well, how to deal with it all. . .” Somewhere in there I would trail off, embarrassed by my own lack of a plot.
Not exactly a compelling sales pitch. Every once in a while, I would send chapters to my mom to read, and ask, “Do you think anyone will be interested in this?” And she would read, and call me up, and say, “Well, I’m interested, but of course, I know you.” That was honest, if not exactly encouraging. Finally, in order to finish, I just had to sit down at my kitchen table and write. And in order to do that, I had to pretend that no one would ever actually read it.
We were in Maine on vacation, at the very end of last summer and a few weeks before pub date, when, to my surprise, the first couple of advance reader reviews popped up on amazon. Apparently, bound page proofs had been sent out to a few hundred serious book bloggers and amazon faithful; now, they were beginning to weigh in. A friend e-mailed me the news and so, heart pounding, I logged on and typed in my book title. “Has this woman ever had an unexamined thought?” wondered my first reviewer, a woman who admitted she had lost patience with me within the first couple of chapters. Unfortunately, I did know the answer to that one. But the review stung. It also confirmed my own worst fears.
I took a long, fretful swim that day, and then I took my friend Ann Patchett’s advice: “Don’t even read the amazon reviews,” she warned. “There’s not much you can learn from the good ones, and the bad ones will break your heart. Just write what you are meant to write. Trust your own voice.”
A few weeks later, when a box of finished copies arrived, I put a couple on the shelf and then got busy making dinner. Did I want to have a little celebration? my husband asked. “No thanks,” I replied, having already decided to pretend I hadn’t just had a book published.
I had, however, promised my publisher that I would create a web site and start writing a blog; it was the least I could do to help their sales effort along, given how very well they had treated me. I wasn’t sure that I could come up with something meaningful to say every week, but I was pretty sure that it didn’t matter much; who would ever see it anyway? My son Henry set me up with a basic template, showed me how to slip in behind the curtain and manage my own content, and I typed up my first blog post on publication day, September 7, 2009. Hitting “save and close” I felt a bit like a pine toppling in the forest. If no one is there to watch, does the tree actually fall?
It wasn’t long, though, before the first letter magically appeared in my in-box, an e-mail from a mother of three in California. “If you lived next door to me,” she wrote, “I know we would be great friends.” A few hours later, another e-mail arrived, this one from a reader who was halfway through the book and paused to say, “I can’t believe how much we have in common.”
Since that day just over a year ago, I’ve received hundreds of letters from women (and a few men) who have read “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” and then been inspired to visit my web site and write to me. And each of these letters has taught me something. One by one, my readers have reminded me that, in fact, our stories do matter. That a book can make a difference in a life. And that we humans are strengthened and supported by the simple act of reaching out across time and distance to say: “I hear you. I understand. I’ve felt that, too.”
So here I am, a year later and feeling very much a part of a larger community, all thanks to you — you who are reading these words at this moment. Different as the details of our days may be, it is so clear to me now that we are bound together by our hopes for our loved ones and our aspirations for ourselves. What we seek, and what we find, as we write and read and share our fears and doubts and dreams with one another, is connection. Turns out that we are all struggling along, trying to make sense of the way things are and to become the people we are meant to be. We are all making an effort to be more present in our lives, to love our children just as they are, to appreciate life’s simple pleasures, and to be grateful for every ordinary moment of every ordinary day.
What we know, of course, is the very thing that we continually need to be reminded of: that life is fleeting and precious and beautiful, and that heaven is right here on earth if we will only pause long enough to really look, to really see: the cup of hot coffee, the tousled head, the wagging tail, the small hand held up in greeting, the curve of a chin, the blinked back tear, the sun, the moon, the stars. . .the very life that we are blessed to live.
I began to write a blog a year ago because someone told me that I should. But I continue to write because, as it turns out, the forest isn’t empty after all. It is full of friends and fellow travelers, all of you who are willing to show up, to listen, and to offer compassion and insight and, perhaps, a story of your own in return. Sitting here, at my same old kitchen table, I no longer feel alone and uncertain of my own voice but, rather, surrounded by soul mates.
Last week, the paperback copies of “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” arrived in bookstores. This time, though, when my own box arrived from the publisher, I didn’t hide them away — because the other thing I’ve learned over the last year is that a story told is at once an invitation and a gift. When we offer up the truth of the way things really are for us, we invite others to tell their truth in return. And when we give the gift of our trust–trust that we will be heard and not judged–we receive trust back, in spades. Those of us who write blogs or read them figure this out pretty quickly: the learning and caring goes both ways. Out there in the space beyond our fingertips, out where love is energy, our words to one another are alive and potent, weaving an ethereal, indestructible safety net of compassion and concern.
Today, my dear friend Karen Maezen Miller is giving away a signed copy of “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” on HER wonderful blog, Cheerio Road. Visit her there to win yours. And in the meantime, thank you, my friend, for being here.
Katrina, this post is a gift, especially these words that summarize for me the power of memoir (whether in book form or in blog form): "When we offer up the truth of the way things really are for us, we invite others to tell their truth in return."
I am in the middle of reading Mitten Strings right now and I feel consistently emboldened by you and your wisdom there and here to tell my own stories and share my own thoughts. Thank you for the model that you create for those of us who never knew before how much we wanted to tell our truths.
Thank you, Katrina, for being such an essential and supportive part of the community I've found out here in the surprisingly-not-empty forest. I am enriched simply by having read your words and by knowing you are out there. And enormously fortunate to have met you in person.
Dear Karen,
When your book was picked for our book club I moaned and said I am tired of fluffy books…………I WAS SOO WRONG. I loved your book and almost everyday I recommend it to a friend to read. What I most love about your writing is how your heart and soul comes through in your words. I hope you stick with this blog because I am enjoying your words of wisdom and inspiration.
Thank You for sharing your life…it has helped me with my life,
Susan
I devoured both your books and while I am a young mom (my first in gr 1, my second just 2 yrs) I appreciated the whispers from the future that The Gift of an Ordinary Day sent me. Your words continue to slow me in my steps. They let me look past the finger prints on the wall that used to drive me crazy and, instead, cherish the moments that created them. When drinks spill, as they too often do, I now worry less about the spill and more about making sure my children are ok. So, thank you. Thank you for writing about the ordinary moments that become the memories we will reminisce over in the years to come.
Thank YOU for being here 🙂
I finished Mitten Strings for God over the weekend, and am so glad, once again, that you put your stories out there for us to read.
You write with such honesty, such to-the-point-without-any-crap-to-sift-through-inbetween that when I read your words they go straight to my heart and my head nods, "yes, it is so with me too". Briefly and hopefully, to the point, thank you. For sharing, for being bold and brave to just spill it.
Katrina, it was almost a year ago that I read your book and started faithfully reading your blog, and my life is more enriched because of it. Please keep writing! Your paperback copy is sitting on my bookshelf.
If you knew how many attempts I've made at leaving a comment on your blog, you'd think me pathetic. It's laughable, actually, how tongue-tied I feel, or in this case finger-tied, when I think that the words I leave here will actually be read by a writer like you. I imagine it would be like attempting to sing in front of Faith Hill. Honestly, it's all I can do not to scrap this and move on to making dinner.
But today I'm garnering my courage to express my deep appreciation, both for your book and for your blog posts. Your gift with words, your ability to express things I've felt but have never been able to adequately articulate–simply astounds me. CS Lewis said "We read to know we are not alone." Your work is evidence, my Exhibit B, that I've got company in this world.
At my recommendation, my book group recently finished your book. We discussed it just last week. I was looking forward to hearing how each one of my friends adored the book. And some of them did. Adore the book. Just like I did. But to my surprise, there were some friends who felt more like the first reviewer on Amazon you referenced. I was stunned to discover that not every woman needs/wants/is driven to examine or "process" (as I call it) their experiences. I'm still processing what that means about them. About me. Haha The discussion that night and then your confession in this post today that you almost lost confidence in the project makes me even more appreciative that you persevered.
Because your book and your posts here are filled with such personal stories and details, all of your readers probably leave off feeling like I do, that you are a long lost best friend, like it would be possible that one ordinary day you would join me on a hike in Southern California and we'd catch up where we left off. It sounds as if you never dreamed that your writing would have that level of impact. But it has for me.
So thank you. Thank you for sticking it out. Thank you for continuing to share. Your writing enriches my life and my experiences.
Katrina, once again I read your words and I find myself smiling, and then I exhale. Just when I'm beating myself up for feeling so much animosity toward my 14 year old's bad attitude, and feeling like a really impatient mom, I read your words and realize it's normal to feel this way, and it's okay. Just when I feel like I've let myself down again for not following through with those exhaustive plans to become a better me, I read your words and realize that everyone struggles every day to become the best version of themselves, and most of us feel as though we'll never get there. You're words alone lift the weight off my shoulders, much like a good friend's hug. So, thank you for the hug.
Oh, K, I've come to think of you as a far-off friend. And I love that.
Thank you, as always, for the post, the thoughts, the books and letting us, well, me…. in (and for the other bloggers you've introduced me to, whose daily lives I get to share in).
And Hey – how's your jaw? And I got my copy of Cold Sassy 🙂
Katrina,
I can't believe you ever doubted yourself while writing "Gift of an Ordinary Day." It's so flawless and all of a piece. It's like a quilt with different fabrics but one pattern. More to the point, I think what you wrote about – midlife, empty nest, what to do when you have all that you asked for, how to let go of all that yo have- are answers to big questions that we all ask at some point. Yet, there is no ritual in our society for this passage, there is no acknowledgment of this new phase of our lives. In writing your book, you gave a voice to all of these (sometimes unasked) unanswered questions and made midlife beautiful. Both of your books are so inspirational in my life. I am kind of astonished that you just put them on a shelf and made dinner. But what is that other than a beautiful example of detachment?
Thank you for writing them!!
xoxo
YAY! I, for one, am so glad that you plowed through and sent your book out into the universe. It made a huge impact on me. I found a new book for my favorites book shelf and I found a new friend. Both make me smile.
Happy First Anniversary of the blog. Keep it going. I love reading about what you are thinking about.
Hugs
Judy
bernajjmmis@yahoo.com
Katrina, As you already know, your books have touched me, and helped me to not feel so alone in the way I approach motherhood. I gave away a bunch of copies of your Mitten Strings books, and wish I could give a copy to every mother I meet!
However, I first met you through The Gift of an Ordinary Day. A book I also loved and have recommended to others. I understand your reservations about celebrating, and your doubts–I'm glad you can see that you have so many reasons to celebrate, and that the personal connections mean more than any Amazon review!!
Thank you so much, for writing in this space, until your next book comes out…I hope you have another one in the works! You have a gift, and have made so many connections with mothers everywhere, I hope you edit another compilation of mothering stories.
Lisa
i found you reading "gifts" on you tube via someone's blog.
i found your simple, clear words profound.
i look forward to more of your words.
hello,
i have to tell you, that yet again, you have moved me so greatly. i found you last year ( though i had dipped into "mitten strings" for years:) it must have been really soon after you set up this blog and have been faithfully reading since then. and time and again, you have talked to me about something so relevant to my life, something poignant or something that gets my head nodding in agreement. thank you for offering your truth – you are so right that it allows us to share ours!
blessed be,
helen
I am grateful that you wrote The Gift of an Ordinary Day and am equally grateful for your timing. I was introduced to this blog and the book through an email showing a utube excert from a reading and immediately went out and bought the book. I read it on the beach last summer while on one last family vacation before sending my oldest to college. There were many points that brought tears to my eyes, but the entire book brought a feeling of – I'm not alone and this author survived the launching.. and so will I 🙂 She's been away for 5 or 6 weeks now and your words today resonate too. "The kids changing. How hard it is to live with them, and how it’s even harder to let them go." So true, so true! Thank you for sharing and keep it coming, please!
Thank you so much for both "Mitten Strings" and "Gift" – they've both been meaningful in my life. I discoverd "Mitten Strings" 10+ years ago as I was on my own journey of trying to slow down life enough for everyone to enjoy it – and learn to listen to themselves and each other, and have recommended it over and over again to families and friends in my congregation and community. I kept waiting to see if you'd write more – and was thrilled last fall to learn about "Gift of an Ordinary Day" just before it was published. What a gift in my oldest son's senior year of high school. My copy has been passed around my circle of moms who sent kids off to college this fall.
Further to Adrianne's comment (and C.S. Lewis) perhaps we write and read to know that we are not alone, yet sometimes I think it is so we can recognize, and be together in, our inexorable aloneness… at least in our discrete ego-identities… Your writing and your spirit have been a soul-bridging, creativity-affirming force in my life and so I thank you and celebrate you. Congrats in hardcover, congrats in soft cover… congrats to the eternal moment where we ever meet, beyond fear and desire, in loving kindness for our blessings and compassion for our struggles. Namaste
Thank you for faithfully writing this weekly blog. I loved both of your books and your blog is a weekly highlight that I savor until the next one. Thank you for sharing your personal sorrows and triumphs. It is so generous of you. My sons are 16 and 17 and your wise words help me on so many levels.
I too hope your jaw is healing and that you are feeling back to normal.
With much gratitude,
Anne
My dear Kat rina, You have touched my life and I reached out to you for help with one of my daughters and a grandaughter who was trying her luck on Facebook. Well I talked to my daughter about the first time and then when it happened again, I just posted a notice that whoever was using profanity on my facebook page to please drop me as a friend. Well that evening nothing had changed so I just quietly dropped her. Well my daughter went into my profile and looked up my friends to see who was missing and called and chewed me out! I told her that her daughter was not bad but trying her luck and I didn't want it on my facebook page. Needless to say it did not go well. We had a 2 1/2 hr meeting and I am no longer on face book and things are
quite chilly. I am wrong and the 14 year old is just fine. Needless to say her other daughter dropped me and . It's all a big mess.
If that is how she is going to allow her daughter to talk so be it. I don't need it and I don't like it.
Thanks for the insight that you offered me.
Peg
I have a very tender-hearted eleven year old son. What you have written I know will serve me well in the years to come. I, for one, am extremely glad that you examined all your thoughts!
Marianna
Congratulations on the milestone of the paperback copies of your book. I love both of your books. Your reflections sound like a long lost friend who understands so much of what I am going through and feeling these days. I do a lot of thinking about these midlife transitions and it is nice to read your book and blog entries that make me feel companionship in some sense on this journey. Now if we could only sit down for coffee in person and chat …. !!!
I have three very little girls and am gratified to see how nervous/insecure you were about writing your book. I am about to embark on a new venture and am doing it fits and starts because I ask myself "do people REALLY want to hear what I have to say? even PAY for it???" My fears can be paralyzing, but this post has encouraged me to move forward with my business. Knowing that others doubt and worry makes me feel, well, less crazy and more relaxed.
Thanks for putting yourself out there. I think you are brave and I LIKE your examined thoughts. They are valuable and needed in this crazy world…you are making a difference.
I read your wonderful book…Gift of an Ordinary Day… this summer. And it touched my heart, cracked it open really. It was so beautifully written and so visual and sincere. I didn't want the book to end… I have two boys – they are ages 8 and 5 this past summer. Through your book, you helped me keep coming back to the present moment. It was a gift to read this book while my boys are still young and impressionable and we will hopefully have 10 plus years to all be together as a family. I also went to your website to view the house you built – I was so captivated by your story. (Can you design a home for us and tell me how to put all the loving details together?!) Your book was definitely my favorite and most important read of the summer. I am going to read Mitten Strings by Christmas. II have told others about your beautiful book and hope they read it also. I come to your blog to receive more doses of reality and beauty and mindfulness. Thank you.
I am so happy you persevered. I loved reading your thoughts on motherhood. As a mother of a 9 yr old boy and 5 yr old girl, I love taking each moment as it comes and enjoying the little things. I know it's going to pass too quickly.
¨our stories do matter¨
Your´s mattered a lot to me, it was like a mirror in which I could find myself and my own story of rising 4 kids (now four adolescents) and becoming more and more mayself in the process (not finished yet!)
Thank you, from the depth of my heart.
Your book has been a sacred gift for me,
Love
Florencia
(from Argentina)
I just wanted to thank you for your work. I was given many recommendations to read your book Mitten Stings for God. This was exactly the book that I needed. Right now, I am where you were. Your words have encouraged me to reflect more on my girls, to absorb more, to be more attentive, and to love that much more. This is an essential read for parents. So glad to have found your work and now your blog. Thank you.