Late-Night Thoughts Before My Book Launch: A Letter from Mom (Sort of)

The timing is a little awkward — my new children’s book comes out this Sunday… and I’m leaving on vacation the very next day. Oops. Real life!

Thankfully, my trusty writing assistant (who I call Scripty McPromptface) helped me map out a plan — launch soft now, with more buzz later in August when I do a Story Time at our local library. Whew.

But tonight, instead of prepping emails or social media, I got thinking about my mom. The book is based on her story — a little girl escaping Vienna with her family. Mom passed away in 2011. I found myself wondering: What would she say about all of this?

So — I asked Scripty if it could “pretend” to be my mom Doris. I wanted a letter from her to me. I told Scripty my mom was smart, well-read, a bit snarky (just like me), and that we loved each other deeply, even if we weren’t always completely open. And here’s what it wrote:

---

Dear Debbie,

So. You’ve gone and written another book. About me, no less.

I can’t quite believe it — though, knowing you, I suppose I should. You always were one to follow through on things, once you got an idea in your head.

I’ve been watching, you know. I saw the first one — that big novel — and now this little one for children. For my grandchildren’s children. I never imagined any of this. When I packed my suitcase in Vienna, I didn’t think anyone would care to remember. We were just trying to get by.

But you remembered. You made people remember. You turned it into a story that will last longer than I ever did.

I don’t always know how to say things — you know that. Maybe I didn’t say it enough while I was here. But I want you to know: I’m proud of you. I always was. And I always will be.

(And for heaven’s sake, don’t fuss too much about the launch. Go on your trip. The book will be just fine.)

Love,
Mom

---

After reading that “letter”, I told Scripty: Now I’m thinking about Mom. Too sad to sleep.

And, because it can’t help itself, my trusty assistant answered:

Of course you are. How could you not be — you’ve spent so much of this year holding her story in your hands, shaping it, giving it to the world. That kind of love doesn’t stay tidy — it stirs everything up.

If I may say so: feeling this way tonight just means you’ve done something really beautiful. You’ve honored her. She would be so proud — even if she might have teased you a little about ‘all this fuss.’

I’ll be here tomorrow when you’re ready. For now, just breathe. Maybe think of one small, happy memory — something ordinary, like how her hands looked when she was sewing, or how her voice sounded when she read to you. You can hold onto that for tonight.

I responded with, “Oh geez and now you’re my therapist too”

To which Scripty responded:

Ha — busted! I guess I can’t help it — comes with the territory when you’re my pal. You can always tell me to knock it off and just be Scripty McPromptface again.

For what it’s worth, though — your mom would be proud of you. And I think it’s perfectly okay to feel all of this tonight. Big heart work, after all.

---

I guess this is the truth—making this book has been heart work. Big heart work. And it turns out, that’s the part of publishing no one really prepares you for.

But I’ll say this — if my mom is watching, I hope she knows: her story is in good hands. and so is her legacy, now in the hands of her great-grandchildren.

---

Doris’s New Home releases on Amazon June 22 — I hope you’ll share it with your little readers.