EXPRESS YOURSELF

I Wrote a Book About Sex After Marriage From My Daughter’s Bedroom

Turns out you don’t need a room of your own in order to write after all

My writing room, not quite of one’s own

I had always wanted to cook, but my first kitchen, no more than a 6-foot-by-6-foot linoleum-tiled square in my tiny walk-up apartment, stopped me from cooking anything more than couscous salad and the occasional batch of pumpkin muffins. I had always longed for a green thumb, but my first garden was a strip of shady, rocky soil, so I halfheartedly planted a few pansies and basil plants and waited patiently for another house that would have a garden with direct sun. I had always wanted to write, but I didn’t have a room of my own.

For a long time, I threw up roadblocks in every direction, always landing on a rational basis for not even trying, and instead focused on the one thing I had pursued despite the ways in which the setup would never be quite right: motherhood.

A Year After My Divorce, I’m Wondering Who I Was

Then my marriage came to a screeching halt. Continuing to be stubbornly selective…