A.H. Kim's Blog

Hyun Jung (Kim) Grant with her two sons

This past week, the Asian employee resource group at my workplace held a healing circle in memory of those killed in Atlanta two weeks ago. I was asked to provide a reflection. Here’s what I said.

I saw my name on the list of victims in the Atlanta spa murders.

In most newspapers, she’s listed as Hyun Jung Grant. But her maiden name, her Korean name, is Kim Hyun-Jung. The same as mine.

The names of the victims from Cherokee County were released soon after the tragedy, but the names of the four Atlanta victims were not disclosed for days, as officials scrambled to notify their next of kin. The Korean consulate in Atlanta confirmed, however, that they were all ethnic Korean women. Just like me.

Before the names were officially released, I learned about Kim Hyun-Jung from an article in The Daily Beast about her two sons. When I saw the accompanying photo of the boys’ smiling faces, their loving mother clutching proudly at their side, I saw myself.

Like my name-twin, I have two sons. Like her, my older son is 23. Like her, I’d do anything to support my family, protect them, provide a good life for them. It’s not lost on me how lucky I’ve been during the pandemic to be able to make a comfortable living working from home, safely sheltering in place. My name-twin was not so lucky. Although trained as an elementary school teacher in Korea, Kim Hyun-Jung worked long hours as a masseuse in the US. I’m pretty sure she did not have the option to telecommute.

In discussing the horrific murders, a friend of mine said to me: “And what about that woman who was just having a date night with her husband? Wow, that one was especially awful.” I was speechless. Why do we have to attach degrees of awfulness to mass murder? Why is the death of a masseuse less awful than that of the woman receiving the massage?

Of course, I know the reason for my friend’s comment. It’s not because she is a terrible person. It’s because she’s human. As humans, we tend to empathize with people, with stories, that we can relate to. My friend could relate to going out for a date night; she couldn’t relate to being a masseuse working in what many called the red-light district. What my friend didn’t realize is that her comment made me feel unseen.

We’re all just human. But being human is not an excuse. It’s actually the solution. The challenge for all of us is to get past our tendency to focus on our shared traits – or yes, even our shared names – and, instead, to focus on our shared humanity. Only then can we effect real change.

In our healing circle, we will discuss the things that have given us comfort and strength during these painful times. For me, it’s been the community of my fellow Asian-Americans and the support of our allies. We truly can’t do it alone.

Last year at this time, 26-year-old Breonna Taylor was killed in her sleep after working a long shift as an ER technician. As I think back to her death and so many others, I ask myself: did I do enough to support my African-American friends? Did I show up? Did I keep showing up? It’s not just one and done. It’s being there for one another day after day.

I am Kim Hyun-Jung. I am Soon Chung Park, Suncha Kim, Yong Ae Yue, Delaina Ashley Yaun, Paul Andre Michels, Xiaojie Tan, and Daoyou Feng. I am George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and countless others.

 And so are you.

Me with my two sons at Christmas

Thanks to Catherine Wallace Hope (Once Again, 10/6/2020) for creating this gorgeous graphic of all the 2020 Debuts books.

It’s the last day of my debut author year, and I can’t resist just one final post. In this blog, I promised to reveal the ups, the downs, and everything in between of the debut novelist experience. My prior posts provided some details as they happened, but here is my year-end wrap up.

What were the memorable “ups” of the debut author experience? There were so many, but here are some that really stick out:

Finding out that Maureen Corrigan reviewed my book in the Washington Post and called it a “lively suspense diversion.” I’ve listened to Ms. Corrigan for years on NPR’s Fresh Air and never in a million years would have imagined her reading my book, let alone giving it a positive review. Yes, I was (am) a little starstruck.

Hanging out with some of my fellow 2020 Debuts authors in Los Angeles just prior to lockdown. (See my 3/4/2020 post, Debutantes Having a Ball.) Although I’ve been able to make some strong connections with authors and readers through social media or Zoom, there’s something so special about meeting someone in person, sharing a plate of food, drinking to one another’s future success. It’s what I miss most during the pandemic. That and hugs.

Every single time someone reaches out to me to tell me they loved A Good Family. You don’t have to be a fancy book critic or even a particularly well-read person — if you read my book and enjoyed it enough to tell me so in an email or on your podcast or in an Amazon review or Instagram post, you’ve just made my day. Seriously. And I can assure you that pretty much every debut author — even (or especially) the ones who appear successful or super-cool — feels the same way.

Seeing some of my 2020 Debuts and Writers Grotto friends’ books appearing on NY Times and other bestseller lists, NPR’s best-of round-up, Goodreads Readers Choice semi-final and final ballots, Reese’s Book Club and Good Morning America monthly picks, PEN America and the Center for Fiction and other literary award lists. I know how long and hard they’ve worked for that success. And how cool is it that I now have famous author friends!

What were the memorable “downs” of the debut author experience?

I’m not gonna lie: checking my Amazon Author Central numbers and seeing how few copies of A Good Family have been sold. My only solace? The report says e-books and Kindle aren’t included in the numbers, so I’m hopeful the actual numbers are better than the Bookscan reports.

Seeing MOST of my 2020 Debuts and Writers Grotto friends’ books NOT appearing on NY Times and other bestseller lists, NPR’s best-of round-up, Goodreads Readers Choice semi-final and final ballots, Reese’s Book Club and Good Morning America monthly picks, PEN America and the Center for Fiction and other literary award lists. I know how long and hard they’ve worked to publish their books, and it hurts not to see that work rewarded in the form of sales or attention or awards — or ideally all of the above.

What were the memorable “in betweens” of the debut author experience?

All the launch events I was able to have for A Good Family with my super-supportive writer friends Vanessa Hua, Hannah Bae, Kevin Smokler, and Angie Kim, as well as other events I participated in to celebrate other authors’ books such as Lydia Kang (Opium and Absinthe), Tosca Lee (The Line Between), Samantha Verant (The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux), Finola Austin (Bronte’s Mistress), Karen Dietrich (Girl at the Edge), Sarah McCraw Crow (The Wrong Kind of Woman), and many more. (See the Events and Bio pages to watch/listen to my chats.) I count this as “in between” because, as great as these events were, we’d normally be holding them in bookstores where we can interact with readers and one another. Like I said, I miss the hugs.

Learning how to use Canva to create social media posts to highlight 2020 Debuts and Writers Grotto and #ownvoices books. I count this as “in between” because, while it’s fun to spend hours matching my friends’ books with just the right Little Free Library or local foodie favorite, I know what I’m really doing is procrastinating from writing my next book. (Busted.)

For all of you who have supported me this year — particularly my family, friends, 2020 Debuts and Writers Grotto members, and of course my readers — thank you for making this a year to remember. And for those of you aspiring authors out there who wonder if all the pain and effort and rejection is worth it, I can assure you: it absolutely is.

Happy new year, and keep buying books from your local booksellers in 2021!

Lainey Cameron (the best hostess ever) and fellow 2020 Debut authors Leah Garriott, Samantha Verant, and Tessa Wegert during our #BookFriday holiday event.

Has it really been three months since my last blog entry? Inconceivable!

As I reflect on this past year, I feel an enormous sense of gratitude: for my readers, who have embraced A Good Family so warmly; for my family, who’ve put up with my endless silly selfies and searching for Little Free Libraries and hours wasted on Canva and social media; and most especially for my fellow authors, who have shared the ups and downs of this unique debuting-during-a-pandemic experience.

There’s no better way to support the author community than to BUY BOOKS, particularly by a debut or lesser-known author and from your local bookseller. For those of you still looking for holiday gift ideas or recommendations for your next great read, I urge you to check out the Debuts 2020 Holiday gift guide, which pairs books with fun themed gifts, or the Writers Grotto Holiday gift guide, which includes books for all ages and interests.

For more holiday inspiration, you might want to watch the Debuts 2020’s #BookFriday event, in which over 40 different debut authors gathered on Black Friday to talk about their favorite holiday movies, foods, traditions, and more. My super-fun panel starts at the 1:30:30 mark and includes Leah Garriott (Promised), Samantha Verant (The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux), and Tessa Wegert (Death in the Family, The Dead Season), and is moderated by Lainey Cameron (The Exit Strategy) with surprise “cameo” appearances by host Annie McDonnell of The Write Review.

Finally, if you’re wondering what books I’m giving to my own family members this holiday, watch my conversation with the lovely Sarah McCraw Crow (The Wrong Kind of Woman) at A Novel Bee (due to technical difficulties, our convo starts at 4:00 and our gift idea discussion at 16:30). Family members: please do not watch!

As 2021 approaches, I already know at least one new year’s resolution: to spend less time on social media and more time actually writing. My goal is to get another book finished and under contract in the next year. Fingers crossed!

Members of the Writers Grotto gathered via Zoom to celebrate the 22 books published by Grotto authors in 2020 - so many that we couldn’t capture them all on one screen!

Samantha Verant (France), Nicole Meier (Oregon, The Second Chance Supper Club), yours truly (California), Bobbi Dumas (Wisconsin, moderator), Lauren Ho (Singapore, Last Tang Standing), Amy Reichert (Wisconsin, The Coincidence of Coconut Cake), Jessica Tom (New York, Food Whore), and Sajni Patel (Texas, The Trouble with Hating You) celebrating food and fiction and Samantha’s debut novel, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux.

I know many authors are crushed that the pandemic has prevented them from having in-person launch events and book readings, but I’m actually fine with it. You might even say I’m relieved.

I’ve been to enough sparsely attended book events to know that it’s tough to get people off the couch, out of the house, and into an uncomfortable folding chair in a quiet bookstore. A rite of passage for the debut author is the “no-show” book reading. Can you imagine? To quote Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride, “Humiliations galore!”

Although I was disappointed to cancel my in-person launch event — I bought a couple cases of sparkling wine in anticipation of celebrating with my friends (darn, I guess I’ll have to drink them by myself) — I’ve been thrilled by the number of people who attended my virtual launch events. Plus, given the wonders of technology, I’ve been able to do events with bookstores as far away as Omaha, Ann Arbor, and Alexandria (and soon Pittsburgh) without spending a penny on airfare or hotel.

My editor (who’s based in Toronto) said she doesn’t often get to attend her authors’ launch events, but thanks to Zoom, she could attend mine. My childhood best friend (who lives in Ohio) attended all of my launch events — not that I’m keeping track. I can’t tell you how heartwarming it is to see long-lost high school classmates, college acquaintances, co-workers from the law firm I left 23+ years ago, as well as work colleagues and dear friends among the Brady Bunch checkerboard of attendee faces.

The challenges of the pandemic have created opportunities for authors to connect with readers — and with fellow authors — in altogether fresh and exciting ways. Here are examples from just this past week:

Last Saturday, I read five minutes from A Good Family as part of the 2020 Debuts’ 5-Minute Reads. Helmed by the incomparable Pamela Skjolsvik (Texas, founder of the Quarantine Book Club and author of Forever 51), this event allowed me to share the screen with and hear the lovely voices of acclaimed authors Christi Clancy (Wisconsin, The Second Home), Jane Gilmartin (Massachusetts, The Mirror Man), and Megan Margulies (also Massachusetts, My Captain America).

On Wednesday, I had my first-ever book club event with the River Rats Book Club (named for their high school mascot - they’ve been friends since high school) with members Zooming in from Illinois, Michigan, Colorado, and Idaho. Would I have had the chance to talk with such an eclectic group of women under normal circumstances? I doubt it. Am I grateful that I did? Absolutely.

Yesterday, Samantha Verant (France, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux) assembled writers from all over the U.S. plus Singapore to talk about our shared love of food and the way that food conveys setting, character, class, relationships, and so much more. In less than 24 hours, our lively (and hunger-inducing) chat has already had 600 views!

Immediately after hopping off Samantha’s event, I jumped on a Zoom call with my fellow 2020 Debuts of Color (an informal sub-group of the 2020 Debuts) for our bi-weekly check-in at which we celebrated recent book launches by Suzanne Park (California, Loathe at First Sight), Leila Rafei (New York, The Spring), Elissa Sloan (Texas, The Unraveling of Cassidy Holmes), Ehsaneh Sadr (California, A Door Between Us), and Eddy Boudel Tan (Vancouver, After Elias).

A worldwide pandemic isn’t the best setting in which to be a debut author. But for me, at least, I’m grateful for all the ways it’s allowed me to connect beyond my wildest expectations.

My first — and so far only — book club event with the River Rats Book Club.

The 2020 Debuts’ Five-Minute Reads from September 5 (top) and 2020 Debuts of Color check-in from September 12 (bottom). Our members hail from all over the U.S. as well as Canada, France, Germany, the UK, Indonesia, Singapore, Australia, and elsewhere.

I was about to turn my calendar over to September when I realized — YIKES! — that I haven’t blogged the entire month of August. Not that anyone is keeping track, but it’s bothersome to this detail-oriented Virgo to let an entire month go by without posting something here.

After the debut whirlwind of July, I was glad to have a quiet August with just two “live” (virtual) events and a few online interviews. It gave me time to recharge my batteries and get some perspective. September looks to be busy again, with events on 9/5 (5-Minute Reads with @2020 Debuts), 9/12 (The Magic of Food with @AuthorSamanthaVerant), 9/16 (with @BooksOnTheSubway), 9/22 (with @BookClubbish), and 9/30 (with @whitewhalebookstore).

For those of you who follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know August allowed me to engage in a 14-day gratitude practice leading up to my 55th birthday. Whenever I’m feeling down or sorry for myself — for example, that my book doesn’t have a shiny “bestseller!” flag next to it on Amazon — I try to take stock of all the things I have to be grateful for. And trust me, I have plenty to be grateful for.

Day 1: My readers.

Day 2: Prisoners Literature Project (and any non-profit that supports prisoners).

Day 3: USPS.

Day 4: My Amazon reviewers. (OK, I’ll admit this was a shameless way to reach the “magic” 50 Amazon reviews — sorry! By the way, you helped me exceed that goal — thank you!)

Day 5: The right to vote.

Day 6: Little Free Libraries.

Day 7: Surviving breast cancer.

Day 8: My younger son who’s been in quarantine with us and just headed back to college.

Day 9: Travel and the way books can transport us even when we can’t get on a plane.

Day 10: Comfort movies.

Day 11: Teachers.

Day 12: Safety from the wildfires.

Day 13: My hubby and 25 years of marriage.

Day 14: My mom.

Of course, I have so much more to be thankful for. My dad and my sister and my wonderful extended family. My incredible friends (although, to be fair, many of them fall under the “my readers” and “my Amazon reviewers” categories). Good food and good wine. Clean air and clean water.

Today, I received a belated birthday gift via USPS. It’s from my older son, who knows how much I love fine stationery (see: the Wrapping Room scene in A Good Family). It came beautifully packaged with a personalized note. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that he, too, is a detail-oriented Virgo.

To my handsome and kind-hearted first-born son: I am so grateful for you!

I started this blog saying that I would document what it’s like to be a debut author, and yet ever since my book’s debut on July 14, I haven’t blogged even once.

I think I’m probably still processing the experience. A dear friend recently asked: “Are you still floating from your debut week events?” The answer is yes, I am floating. Floating in this strange world of everyday reality — I still work my day job, cook family meals, fold laundry, worry about COVID — punctuated with moments of surreal “am I dreaming?” excitement (Maureen Corrigan’s review in the Washington Post is one notable example).

I’d been warned about post-debut depression: the letdown that you feel after your book has been released into the world. It’s a bit like post-partum depression, in more ways than one. Authors often refer to our works as our “book babies,” but while a fetus gestates for 9 months, books typically require years or even decades to come to fruition. Like a mother being overcome with waves of hormones, authors ride the highs and lows of adrenaline as we prep for and then decompress from interviews and launch events.

And then there’s the worrying. Oh yes, the worrying. But instead of Apgar scores and developmental milestones, there’s Amazon ratings and Goodreads reviews and best-of lists. Everyone tells you to ignore them, but no one really does. How can anyone resist?

This past week, I flew cross country to visit my parents and take a break from the debut author life. We celebrated my mother’s 85th birthday with filet mignon and lobster tails. I went swimming with my sister and niece at the outdoor community pool. I slept in and watched Hamilton (again) and had lunch with my older son. And I also drove to the cemetery to visit my brother’s grave and sobbed because he’s not here to share in this experience.

But, in my heart of hearts, I know he is.

With the publication of A Good Family just three weeks away (24 days to July 14, to be exact, but who’s counting?) and everything that’s going on globally, I’m worried the book will be immediately relegated to the remainders bin. To badly paraphrase a line from Casablanca, it doesn’t take much to see that my little domestic thriller doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

Friends and family have kindly asked: what can I do to support you and your book? I usually shrug off such questions, uncomfortable to ask for help. I’m a helper, not a helpee. (Yes, I’ve just coined a new word.) But when it comes to my book baby, I’ve got to give it the best chance of thriving, so here goes.

SIX WAYS TO SUPPORT ME AND MY BOOK (or other authors and their books)

Pre-order/buy the book - I encourage you to support your local bookseller. Here are pre-order/buy links from some of my favorite SF bookstores - there are so many more, but this blog space is limited. If you live outside the Bay Area, Bookshop.org is a great way to locate an indie bookseller near you. Links to the major retailers are also on my Home Page.

Green Apple Books

Book Passage

Books Inc.

The Booksmith

Alexander Book Company

Follow/friend me on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter - I have an uncomfortable relationship with social media, but let’s face it: that’s how many people communicate these days. I’ve loved being able to re-connect with old friends, stay in touch with socially distanced friends, and even make some new friends (including many handsome widowers and military officers from all over the world…not!). It’s also allowed me to bring attention to my fellow authors who are struggling to get word out on their own book babies. I appreciate every one of your “likes” and “shares” and comments, which help me feel less foolish about tossing my words and images into the void.

Add/rate/review on Goodreads - Before this debut year, I’d only vaguely heard of Goodreads, but it’s a really important platform for authors. By adding my book to your “want to read” list or entering a giveaway for my book, you help generate interest in it. Once you’ve read the book, entering a rating and/or review further helps. (When in doubt, round up!) Goodreads also has an “Ask the Author” section, so if you’re dying to know more about my book (or anything else), ask away. I’ve pre-loaded three Q/As there already.

Attend events - I sadly had to cancel my planned launch event at Book Passage in the Ferry Building, but I’m thrilled to say that I’ve lined up a series of readings and events in July. I promise each event will be different — different book excerpts, different topical themes, and different conversation partners — but they will all be short (30-45 minutes) and fun (trivia games with awesome prizes). And because they’re virtual, you can attend them all from the comfort of your home. Details on my newly populated Events Page.

Review/rate on Amazon - There’s no denying the marketing power of Amazon. My author friends have suggested there’s some extra mojo you get in the Amazon algorithm if your book gets more than a certain number (50, 100, who knows) of reviews. So, even if you purchase the book through a local indie, please rate it on Amazon. Apparently, Amazon sometimes blocks reviews if you disclose that you are a family member or friend of the author (not sure if this is true), so you might want to keep that on the down-low.

Spread the word - Books like mine — by which I mean books that don’t have a huge publicity campaign behind it — succeed through word of mouth. You all have way more friends and contacts than I do. Post a photo of yourself reading the book on your Instagram or Facebook. Recommend the book to your book club (and your sister’s and neighbor’s and co-worker’s book clubs). I’ve just added a new Book Clubs page to my website. Tell your librarian and local bookseller about it. Every little bit helps.

My hubby took a video of me unboxing my books, but the video looked almost exactly like the one of me unboxing the ARCs, so I pulled a do-over and created a photo collage instead. I’m learning so many new skills these days. Who knew being an author was equal parts writing and shameless self-promotion?

Thank you in advance for your help. It means the world to me.

In April, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone by writing a daily Isolation Journals blog post. In May, I decided to confront my aversion to self-promotion by posting a daily selfie on my Instagram site. I could only do so my shielding myself, figuratively and often literally, behind a book and author I admire. Asian Pacific American Heritage Month provided the perfect excuse.

My Instagram collection of APAHM books is intentionally eclectic. It includes acclaimed literary fiction, fun and frothy beach reads, thought-provoking memoir and non-fiction, compelling young adult and middle-grade books, even a terrific graphic novel. I tried to focus on debuts — both debuts of now-established authors as well as my fellow 2020 Debuts. Some are written by my friends from the Writers Grotto. And honestly, some I added after Googling “books to read during APAHM” and going down the rabbit hole of the internet. My wallet is now a few hundred dollars lighter.

This collection doesn’t even begin to capture the range of APAHM books out there. It’s just the tip of the iceberg — which makes me so happy. As much as I loved the Little House books and E.B. White and Roald Dahl as a child, and then Charles Dickens and John Irving and Zora Neale Hurston as a young adult, none of them spoke to my Asian-American experience.

And then came Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club. I distinctly remember reading it shortly after its publication in 1989. It was the first book in which I saw myself. It will come as no surprise to my friends and family that I related to Waverly Jong, the overachiever whose exterior success hides internal conflicts. To this day, my husband likes to joke whenever possible, “all this needs is a little soy sauce.” (Fun fact: I’m family friends with the Korean-American actor who played Ken — Lena’s new fiance — in the movie adaptation. He later earned fame as Woo, the guy who urinates on The Dude’s carpet in The Big Lebowski.)

Today, I capped off my month-long APAHM collection with a middle-grade book, Stand Up, Yumi Chung!, about a Korean-American girl who doesn’t feel like she quite fits in, toggling between her duty to obey her parents and her desire to do what makes her happy. How I wish this book had been available when I was young — both for people like me and my siblings to feel less isolated and for some of our classmates to learn empathy for people who are different from them.

The heart-breaking events of this past week demonstrate that now, more than ever, we need diverse books. Not just in May for APAHM. Not just for African-American History Month or Latinx Heritage Month. But every single day.

***

Friends have asked me to compile a “top five” list of my APAHM selections, which I just couldn’t bring myself to do. Instead, I’ve organized them by general (and imperfect) categories, so you can choose based on the kinds of books you like to read.

Evocative Historical Fiction

How Much of These Hills is Gold (C Pam Zhang)

If You Leave Me (Crystal Hana Kim)

The Calligrapher’s Daughter (Eugenia Kim)

The Mountains Sing (Nguyen Phan Que Mai)

Thought-Provoking Non-Fiction

All You Can Ever Know (Nicole Chung)

Almost American Girl (YA) (Robin Ha)

How to Write an Autobiographical Novel (Alexander Chee)

Minor Feelings (Cathy Park Hong)

Why We Swim (Bonnie Tsui) 

Thrilling and Mysterious

A Beautiful Poison (Lydia Kang)

Miracle Creek (Angie Kim)

The Missing Sister (Elle Marr)

On the Lighter Side

A Sweet Mess (Jayci Lee)

Loathe at First Sight (Suzanne Park)

Mimi Lee Gets A Clue (Jennifer J. Chow)

Temporary Wife Temptation (Jayci Lee)

The Perfect Escape (YA) (Suzanne Park)

Female Friendships in the Big City

A River of Stars (Vanessa Hua)

Free Food for Millionaires (Min Jin Lee)

If I Had Your Face (Frances Cha)

Immigrant Families across Generations

Days of Distraction (Alexandra Chang)

Native Speaker (Chang-Rae Lee)

Number One Chinese Restaurant (Lillian Li)

The Caregiver (Samuel Park)

This Time Will Be Different (YA) (Misa Sugiura)

 Spare and Intense

The Incendiaries (R.O. Kwon)

The Unpassing (Chia-Chia Lin)

The Magic of First Love

Anna K (YA) (Jenny Lee)

Frankly in Love (YA) (David Yoon)

Fascinating SciFi/Dystopia

Control (YA) (Lydia Kang)

Exhalation (Ted Chiang)

Girl Power

Seesaw Girl (middle-grade) (Linda Sue Park)

Stand Up, Yumi Chung! (middle-grade) (Jessica Kim)

First Love and Girl Power and Generations and More

If you don’t feel like reading a book, be sure to watch The Half of It, the Netflix original movie written and directed by Alice Yu, which I featured on the first day of APAHM

Today’s prompt:

Create a time capsule of the past month. What has this time meant for you? Write about the things you thought about and the things you ate. Write about how your world has stayed the same and also how it’s changed. Write about what you struggled with and maybe would honestly rather forget. Write about where you found delight; the things you fear will fade and want to immortalize for yourself now and for the future you.

Ticket to Ride

Thirty days ago, I embarked on this Isolation Journals journey. It’s meant more to me than I could’ve expected. I’ve deepened connections with people I already knew. I’ve made connections with people I wouldn’t have met otherwise. And I’ve connected with myself in a way that would normally have required months of therapy.

Suleika Jaouad, the Isolation Journals’ genius creator, announced that the project will continue into May. But not for me. Or, at least, not in the same way. As much as I’ve enjoyed the experience of writing on a daily basis and shooting it out into the universe, it’s time for me to stop.

I’ve spent the past month looking inward and backward. I plan to spend the next month looking outward and forward. I will be reading other people’s Isolation Journal entries, promoting my debut novel (A Good Family, due out 7/14), and editing my second novel (a humorous and heartfelt re-telling of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility).

This past month, I used the daily Isolation Journals prompts as a jumping off point, something that may or may not have had much relation to the final piece that I posted on my blog. But tonight, I’m feeling literal. Honestly, I’m feeling a little tired. So, for this last entry, I’m breaking down the prompt into its component parts and treating it like an interview—an interview with the author.

What has this time meant for you? Gratitude. I’m grateful for my health. For my husband and younger son under one roof with me. For my job that allows me to be productive while remaining safe. For the fresh food in my refrigerator, the water and electric and gas services that keep me comfortable, the clean air that I breathe, the soft sheets in my bed. For the friends who check in and support me every day.

What things did you think about? My parents and older son so far away. The homeless living on the streets. The people around the world suffering in countless ways.

What did you eat? Comfort food: matzoh ball soup, budae chigae, tuna noodle casserole. And salads in between to smooth out the guilt.

How has your world stayed the same? I still work too hard. I still don’t exercise enough. I still wish I had more time in the day.

How has your world changed? I can’t believe the world stopped. “Climate change!” we all shouted, but no one would listen. But when the pandemic arrived, the world actually stopped. I felt the earth breathing, but at what cost?

What did you struggle with? My privilege. Tens of thousands dead. Countless more unemployed. The after-shocks of the pandemic are beyond imagination. And yet, my life goes on pretty much as before. Why me? And why not me?

What would you rather forget? Always, my brother’s death. It has nothing to do with the pandemic but everything to do with life.

Where did you find delight? Early evening walks with my husband. Cut-throat games of Ticket to Ride and Dominion. Laughing out loud at old episodes of 30 Rock. Taking time to admire (and smell) the roses in Golden Gate Park.

What do you fear will fade? In one of my favorite plays, Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, Emily comes back from the dead. She joyfully watches a scene from her childhood, but her joy quickly fades as she sees how little attention people pay to the precious moments of life. In this pandemic, we’ve all been given the gift of attention. I fear people will squander this gift – or will let the memory of this gift fade over time.

What do you want to immortalize for yourself now? What do you want to immortalize for future you? The Isolation Journals experience has allowed me to capture moments of my life in writing. As I review my daily entries, I see a through-line, something bigger than the individual vignettes. Perhaps there’s a story that will outlast the current moment.

But honestly, as much as it means to me to write, to make connections, and to leave a written legacy, I’m less concerned about immortal me and more interested in mortal me. That’s why I’ll no longer be writing with the Isolation Journals. I want to spend more time looking forward, talking long walks, and smelling the roses.

Not to mention trying to beat my son in the next game of Dominion.

Today’s prompt:

Create a time capsule of the past month. What has this time meant for you? Write about the things you thought about and the things you ate. Write about how your world has stayed the same and also how it’s changed. Write about what you struggled with and maybe would honestly rather forget. Write about where you found delight; the things you fear will fade and want to immortalize for yourself now and for the future you.

Ticket to Ride

Thirty days ago, I embarked on this Isolation Journals journey. It’s meant more to me than I could’ve expected. I’ve deepened connections with people I already knew. I’ve made connections with people I wouldn’t have met otherwise. And I’ve connected with myself in a way that would normally have required months of therapy.

Suleika Jaouad, the Isolation Journals’ genius creator, announced that the project will continue into May. But not for me. Or, at least, not in the same way. As much as I’ve enjoyed the experience of writing on a daily basis and shooting it out into the universe, it’s time for me to stop.

I’ve spent the past month looking inward and backward. I plan to spend the next month looking outward and forward. I will be reading other people’s Isolation Journal entries, promoting my debut novel (A Good Family, due out 7/14), and editing my second novel (a humorous and heartfelt re-telling of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility).

This past month, I used the daily Isolation Journals prompts as a jumping off point, something that may or may not have had much relation to the final piece that I posted on my blog. But tonight, I’m feeling literal. Honestly, I’m feeling a little tired. So, for this last entry, I’m breaking down the prompt into its component parts and treating it like an interview—an interview with the author.

What has this time meant for you? Gratitude. I’m grateful for my health. For my husband and younger son under one roof with me. For my job that allows me to be productive while remaining safe. For the fresh food in my refrigerator, the water and electric and gas services that keep me comfortable, the clean air that I breathe, the soft sheets in my bed. For the friends who check in and support me every day.

What things did you think about? My parents and older son so far away. The homeless living on the streets. The people around the world suffering in countless ways.

What did you eat? Comfort food: matzoh ball soup, budae chigae, tuna noodle casserole. And salads in between to smooth out the guilt.

How has your world stayed the same? I still work too hard. I still don’t exercise enough. I still wish I had more time in the day.

How has your world changed? I can’t believe the world stopped. “Climate change!” we all shouted, but no one would listen. But when the pandemic arrived, the world actually stopped. I felt the earth breathing, but at what cost?

What did you struggle with? My privilege. Tens of thousands dead. Countless more unemployed. The after-shocks of the pandemic are beyond imagination. And yet, my life goes on pretty much as before. Why me? And why not me?

What would you rather forget? Always, my brother’s death. It has nothing to do with the pandemic but everything to do with life.

Where did you find delight? Early evening walks with my husband. Cut-throat games of Ticket to Ride and Dominion. Laughing out loud at old episodes of 30 Rock. Taking time to admire (and smell) the roses in Golden Gate Park.

What do you fear will fade? In one of my favorite plays, Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, Emily comes back from the dead. She joyfully watches a scene from her childhood, but her joy quickly fades as she sees how little attention people pay to the precious moments of life. In this pandemic, we’ve all been given the gift of attention. I fear people will squander this gift – or will let the memory of this gift fade over time.

What do you want to immortalize for yourself now? What do you want to immortalize for future you? The Isolation Journals experience has allowed me to capture moments of my life in writing. As I review my daily entries, I see a through-line, something bigger than the individual vignettes. Perhaps there’s a story that will outlast the current moment.

But honestly, as much as it means to me to write, to make connections, and to leave a written legacy, I’m less concerned about immortal me and more interested in mortal me. That’s why I’ll no longer be writing with the Isolation Journals. I want to spend more time looking forward, talking long walks, and smelling the roses.

Not to mention trying to beat my son in the next game of Dominion.