And so this happened…

My writer friend, Karen Katchur, had a book signing for her debut novel, The Secrets of Lake Road, this week. It twas held at the Moravian Bookstore in Bethlehem. Karensbooksigning


I’ve known Karen for several years since she started coming to our writers’ group. So, of course, I drove from the wilds of Oley to Bethlehem and I even scored a parking space on Main Street (a real win!).

I could not wait to get into the store and give her a hug, buy the book and have her sign it.

Er…not so fast, Mitzi. The place was packed, packed, I tell you. I tried to get there at 6 when the signing was to start but traffic on 222 and 22 let me down and by the time I got to the bookstore the party was in full swing. I couldn’t even SEE Karen.  And I couldn’t even get a book…they were running out.

I made the almost 90 minute trip home and ordered it on Amazon. After all, I’d see her at our meeting Saturday.

But on the way home, I noticed that I was gripping the steering wheel a bit too tight. I was also gritting my teeth. I was morphing into not a nice person.


Bad Mitzi was whispering into my ear: “Girl, you’ve been writing for more than 50 years and waiting months for agents and editors to get back to you with hardly a bite. This one comes along and with her first book…”


Good Mitzi: “Now, you know how hard she wenvysiasat.pkorked on this book…”

Bad Mitzi: “But it’s not faiiiiiiiiiiiiiir!”

Good Mitzi: “Now, stop it. When did you start being the jealous sort?”



Bad Mitzi: “I don’t remember. Always?”


Good Mitzi: “Well, stop it. Stop it now! You’re a grown woman. You retired as a VP of Nursing, for heaven’s sake. You raised a great daughter all by yourself. You’ve had things published all through those fifty years while working a full time job. You live in a lovely home with your wonderful husband, daughter and favorite animals. You have lots of people who love you…”

Bad Mitzi: “Yeah, but…”

Good Mitzi: “No ‘yeah buts’! Just get back to work. This is not a contest.”

Bad Mitzi: “But when I was growing up…”

Good Mitzi: “Forget that 1950s bullshit. You have a lot, more than most. Get over it and write!”

Bad Mitzi: <<slinks off to wherever bad influences go>>

By the time I pulled into our parking area, I’d shaken everything off (the large vanilla milkshake helped since I could have wine and drive home). I realized that it was a normal reaction. I walked into the living room/office/library and went to work…writing.



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