She Has a Name!

Here's the title of my memoir...

Mom, Rediscovered.

There she is, friends.

During the years I dreamed about writing a book, and then during the years I spent writing the book I wrote, I thought my title would just appear in a magical moment of divine inspiration and stick for good. I had no idea how nuanced the search for a title actually is, and how many boxes a title has to check.

Titles are like moms. They are expected to do it all. They need to carry more than their fair share. They can’t possibly do everything and be everything to everyone, and yet they kinda have to.

A title has to attract its target audience while also appealing to as many readers as possible. It has to contain the right keywords so the book can climb the rankings in the right categories until it gets to the top. A title needs to be short, but not too short, but not too long. It needs to be pithy yet profound. Oh, and it should also be totally unique, preferably unused, fresh as a daisy blossoming in a massive field of millions of other books.

In a handful of words, a title is expected to capture the essence of an entire book, which, in my case, means my entire story, my entire life.

Bonus points if it’s cute enough to put on a beaded bracelet, tote bag, or t-shirt.

No pressure!

I went through a few titles during my writing journey. The first, Mom Strong, was a place holder. The second, Mom Enough, was already taken. I became pretty attached to that one anyway, though, because my book centers on my enoughness: how I never felt good enough … until I did, now that I do.

But I really wanted a title that was unique. To my book, to the world, to me. I knew that word “mom” had to be in there, because this is a memoir about my motherhood journey-in-progress. It was only a week or so ago that Mom, Rediscovered popped into my brain and stuck. Tentatively at first, as I think any title would. Is that really it? I thought to myself. Do these two words really capture my story better than any others I could possibly come up with?

“When you know, you know,” they say. They say this about love. They say this about when it’s time to put down a beloved pet. They say this about making big decisions.

Did I know? Do I know? No, honestly. But I am making the choice. (Which, by the way, is what we always do. I don’t think we ever really know anything.)

I chose Mom, Rediscovered because my journey has been one of rediscovery more than anything else. When I stopped drinking almost seven years ago, I emerged from the fog of wine mom life into a technicolor world and sense of self that seemed fresh and new and yet were so utterly, completely familiar. It was the start of me returning to myself. And that absolutely felt like rediscovery.

Because it was. I stopped drinking. I got back in shape. I stopped dieting and trying to control the size of my body by restricting food. I started growing out my natural hair color. I started therapy. And I wrote my way through it all. Writing was not only my salvation, but my self-excavation. And as I chipped away the societal expectations and all the fucks I used to give, I uncovered my authentic self. And, it turns out, she’s one of the coolest discoveries I’ve ever made.

She was there all along. She was just buried in perfectionism and people-pleasing, and some other stuff you’ll know when you read my book.

I’m not done. I am still digging. Some of this work requires a hammer and a chisel. Some is more delicate, like taking a toothbrush to an ancient mosaic so as to minimize any chance of damaging the beautiful work of art that lies beneath the dirt, dust, and detritus of time and trauma.

My work continues, even though my book is written. There is more life to live, more digging to be done. Mom, Rediscovered is volume one. It’s my story, but it’s every woman’s story. So yes, it’s your story too. And I can’t wait for you to read it.