A love letter to my husband


You were already a long-suffering, understanding husband and now your wife wants to be fiction writer.

God bless you.

You’ve been supportive and encouraging, wise in your advice and patient in the process. So when you received my text message this morning saying I’d just gotten my sixth rejection, no doubt you felt my pain.

You know these rejections are little stabs in my hot air balloon and yet you continue to add fuel to my fire. You are my underpinning, my weight-bearing beam. You offer words of validation and warm embraces. And today, you offered doughnuts.


You knew that I’d want to eat my feelings this afternoon and you took the extra step to make sure I could. How funny, then, that I picked up cupcakes on my way home. How blissfully ironic that now we have both treats with which to medicate ourselves because six literary agents turned down my novel.


We are only at the beginning of this marathon, and I’m guaranteed more heartache. The good news is that sometimes I’ll self-medicate with a long run or maybe a good cry so we don’t have to worry about adult onset diabetes.

Regardless of my coping mechanism I hope we’ll always be in sync. Thank you for the doughnuts and for knowing what I needed today.

The Boston Creme Pie Cupcake is for you.

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