Almost daily I get a message that goes something like this…
I’m in the middle of reading My Mother’s Chamomile. I want to throw the book at your head. I’m bawling. My face is puffy from my sobbing. My EYES HURT! You’re breaking my heart.
I love it.
A college friend told me that she almost hated me. A cousin let me know that she’d reached the “I don’t like this phase” of the book. Another reader told me I owed her a box of tissues.
I’m being completely honest when I say that I had no idea this book would evoke such powerful emotions in others. I mean, I can’t even think about certain scenes without completely losing it. I made my family leave the house while I wrote the end because I didn’t want to scare the kids with my sobbing.
The writing made me fold over in my office chair, sick with grief. I’m not kidding.
But I never expected it would happen to my readers, too.
So, I’m sorry. And thank you.
And…if you need a little pick me up, watch this. It might help.