In the Fall of 1999 I joined my first and only book club in a Stepford’y neighborhood in suburban Akron/Cleveland. It was a terrific way to meet new friends, and as an avid reader, I thought it would be literarily (I made that word up, I’m a writer, I can do that) enriching. I attended the monthly meetings and dutifully read the books, some I loved, others not so much. My favorite part of that the club was that it forced me out of my reading rut, introducing me to new authors. That’s always a good thing. And I met some wonderful neighbors.
However… I soon learned that for some attendees the club was more about the wine. And worse, like any gathering, sometimes after the wine came the whining. And Kimmy is not good in a room full of whining. My tolerance for the vagaries of suburban life was low even before autism smacked us upside the head. I don’t care if your dishwasher isn’t stainless steel or your carpet is a dated mauve and your husband won’t let you buy new carpet. At all…… (See, I’m No Mother Teresa.)
The main reason I left the book club was that I became pregnant with baby number three. And without the wine, I really couldn’t take the whine!
Tell me about your book club. What’ the W:W ratio? If you’d like to extend the invitaton, I’d LOVE to chat with your group via SKYPE about my book. It’s fun to bring an author into your home – costs nothing – and I’ll even BYOW. 🙂 Email me at email@example.com
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