January 4, 2016
by Kate

Hello, 2016!

We rang in the New Year up at my mom’s cabin in northern Minnesota as we so often do. It was cozy—just D, the girls, my mom and step-dad and me. We cooked and ate and read and did puzzles (in an obsessive way that was somehow still relaxing). The girls and D skated in circles, playing keep-away on the rectangle of lake we shoveled clean. And we skied loops in the woods, our bodies lengthening as we glided through fresh snow. That is one of my favorite things. I love the way I can feel my body stretching out, my back straightening as I get into the groove of pushing and gliding. I love the way my triceps burn as I struggle up a hill. I love the rustle of wind through dry leaves, the brilliant blue of sky through dark branches, the glint of sun on snow. It’s when I take stock of the year coming to a close and whisper my hopes for the next year.

Some years the transition from one year to the next feels seamless. But sometimes I’m really ready to be done with a year and start something new, fresh. That’s how I feel now. Last year was not an easy one for me. There were joys, of course—plenty of them, really. But there was also the weight of not feeling well, finally deciding on surgery, the subsequent digestive complications. There were many moments last fall when it felt as if I was simply trying to stay afloat in the churning swirl of a mid-life crisis. What did I need? Yoga? God? A kick-ass nutritionist?

I might still be in that mid-life crisis stage, but I sense I’m emerging from it. The kick-ass nutritionist helps, and I’m trying to listen carefully to myself, to my body. I don’t have anything figured out yet, but I’m hopeful.

Over the last few weeks, I have more often bookmarked a webpage to my recipe folder than to my teaching/writing folder. But I’m ready to shift gears again, get back to the novel, to words and sentences and paragraphs. I’m ready to start thinking about retreats and teaching, how to help others find a way into the stories they need to tell. And I’ve decided I’ll be here at this blog each week during the next year. I don’t know what I’ll write about, but I’m hoping it will be a touchstone for me. I hope you’ll join me.

What are your hopes for 2016? I’d love to hear them.

November 25, 2015
by Kate


I would be lying if I said that the last few months (or year) has been an easy one for me. It hasn’t.

I’m still in that place of not-knowing, of guessing and experimenting with food, supplements, exercise—anything.

Still, I’m trying to be grateful for good days. I have a new acupuncturist, and she’s fabulous. That helps. I’ve started doing yoga, something that has never appealed to me, and has in the past caused injuries. But I’m open to it now, again, because I sense that will help me settle and heal. I also have a new food plan—the low FODMAP diet (oh joy!)—and I have appointments with a nutritionist and my gastroenterologist on the horizon. Small steps in hopefully the right direction.

But as I sit with discomfort and not-knowing, I am trying to practice daily gratitude. So today, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I want to name a few things for which I’m grateful: dance parties with my girls (those splits! those funky moves! that infectious laughter!); Donny, for everything; the girls again—their tenderness and sister love and great sense of humor; my dad and mom and stepdad; my sisters and their families; my extended family; my dear friends; our home; work that’s meaningful to me; my incredible students; our health (even though it’s challenging me right now); health care and health insurance; warm clothes; our sweet dog; and books—all those essays and novels and poems that make me feel alive.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you to all of you reading, you who show up here even when I’ve let this blog languish. I appreciate you all. Thank you!

Happy Thanksgiving. What are some thing you’re thankful for this year?

October 26, 2015
by Kate

showing up

I’ve started a number of blog posts over the last couple of weeks. Each time, before I could finish the post, things with my health would change and I’d abandon it half-written.

A week ago I was feeling better—not perfect, but better. I could lift a basket of laundry, put the full Brita back into the refrigerator on my own, walk longer distances, and make it through the day without a nap. Exciting stuff, I know. I still had some pain, especially after eating certain foods (likely the result of gallbladder duct spasms), but emotionally I felt so much better. Better than I had in over a year.

It was helpful to read the pathology report, which found that my gallbladder was inflamed, consistent with chronic cholecystitis. Perhaps it’s odd that this made me so happy, but I had been worried that I would get it out and it would look perfectly healthy. Instead, it confirms that I made the right decision.

But then last week I developed some mystery pain on my left side, and I began to worry about all sorts of (probably unlikely) things, and I was right back in that place I had been most of the last year, second-guessing everything. I began to worry that I’d made the wrong decision (not a helpful or productive line of thought).

I’m hopeful that things will turn around very soon. In the meantime, I’m teaching and editing and trying to write a little every day. I’m walking and swimming again. Today was the first time I’d been in the pool in over six months. I was slow, but still, my body remembered how to slice through water, my arms pulling, legs kicking, head turning to breathe every couple of strokes. I felt muscles that hadn’t worked in months come to life again.

So I’ll keep showing up and try to be patient, and hopefully soon I will feel like myself again.

September 15, 2015
by Kate


Thanks so much for all your thoughts and good vibes last week. Surgery went well (though geez, I would have happily stayed the night in the hospital. There’s nothing like being rushed home completely drugged up, nauseated and in pain.)

The first night and day weren’t fun, and heck, the second wasn’t fun either. But each day I’ve felt a little more like myself. And then Sunday I overdid it. It was Stella’s birthday (12! How is that possible?) and I was on my feet too much of the day. We had a lovely family gathering in which she raked in lots of soccer paraphernalia. But even with everyone pitching in, I was exhausted by the end of the party.

Yesterday–and today–I woke up in more pain, so it’s clear I need to scale things back again. I’m trying to nap a couple of times of day and I’m being more careful about how much I move around. Of course my to-do list keeps sneaking in, clambering for attention, and it’s difficult for me to suppress that damn thing. But I will, I have to. Part of what got me into this trouble in the first place is overextending myself, so I know I need to be mindful of that.

So, the plan for the day: nap, get up and do a tiny bit of work, nap, walk slowly to the bus stop to get the girls, chat and get them snacks, etc., hopefully rest again, eat dinner, then go to bed early. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? So it goes. It still feels like I made the right decision, and hopefully I will be recovered soon.

September 8, 2015
by Kate

dear gallbladder, goodbye.

I know that I am supposed to want to keep all of my organs, and believe me, I do. I’ve tried, I really have. I changed my diet (and then changed it back), I’ve done weekly (often twice a week) acupuncture, I’ve ingested many herbs and enzymes, minerals and fermented foods. I’ve meditated. I’ve cried. I’ve bucked up.

But still, the pain persists.

On Monday, after my upper endoscopy confirmed that my ulcers were healed (meaning that my pain is, and has been, GB-related), I felt elated (even after the sedation wore off). A weight had been lifted. No more second-guessing what I was eating. No more “Is the pain from this or that? Should I be eating (or not eating) this or that?”

No ulcers cleared the way for surgery. There was a path, a possible end to it. When I showed Donny the brochure about gallbladder surgery (featuring a sad, sad woman whose hand—her fingers splayed ever so slightly—is pressed below her right ribcage) he said, “That’s you! That’s exactly how you look.”

Shit. I look like the sad, sad woman from a surgical brochure. Even worse: I’d looked like that for months. It was time.

But then Tuesday at four am, what slunk back into my fretting mind was the second-guessing. Was it the right thing to do? Had I tried hard enough to keep it? Would it really take care of the pain? (This had been the question all along since my problem isn’t gallstones, which are cured by removal. Ejection fraction issues sometimes are not.) This state of second-guessing was helped immensely later in the day by a very strong differing opinion. But it is my body, and I know what’s best, right? Still, I was waffling.

Before Donny left for work on Wednesday morning he looked crestfallen. “On Monday you were yourself again.”

It was true. For a few hours on Monday I felt like my real self again because there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I needed to find my way back to that clarity. I made an appointment with my regular, trusted doctor, who agreed with my other doctors. Again the weight was lifted, and it’s remained that way. It’s the right decision. I realize that now. So, goodbye, gallbladder.

Added to my general discomfort in recent months, I’ve developed a propensity for styes, those painful little eye infections. (Stress?) My right eye was the one afflicted and after rounds of ointments and antibiotics, and diligent daily warm compresses, it finally cleared up.

But on Friday morning, just prior to my pre-op appointment, the left eye piped up. Like the disgruntled sibling of a memoirist, it just had to be heard. (I don’t need your version of the story, I implored. But no. It insisted.)

We headed up north Friday afternoon and I was going to spend the weekend visualizing being pain free (GB and stye). I was going to BE POSITIVE! And it was working. On Saturday, I determinedly slept in. I went for a walk. I bought a book in town.

Then the weekend was hijacked. I’ll spare you the details because all is fine, but really?

Now the stye is improving and surgery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow. So I’m back to BEING POSITIVE and visualizing being pain free. If you could send your positive vibes, healing thoughts, and prayers in my direction, I’d be grateful.

I’ll keep you posted.

August 20, 2015
by Kate

fall motherhood & words class

Donny and I spent the last five days painting (or rather emptying, then taping, then painting, then taping more, then painting more, and finally reassembling) our kitchen and my office. It was grueling, but it’s done, and now my office looks like this:


And now I’m ready to dive back into writing and also gear up for my fall online Motherhood & Words class. There are still spots available, and I’d love to have you in class! Here are the details:

Motherhood & Words Online

Sept 30 – Dec 7  (10 1/2 weeks)

Whether you are a new mom or a veteran, whether you gave birth to or adopted your child, in this online class you’ll learn how to take birth and motherhood stories and turn them into art. Weekly lectures, reading assignments and writing exercises will focus on telling details, character development, emotional distance, strengthening your reflective voice, and revision. (Use Your Words will be the primary text for the class.) You can expect to generate two to three creative nonfiction pieces, and you will have an opportunity to revise and expand one of these into a longer piece. You will receive feedback from your peers and me on what emerges from weekly writing exercises. I will also read and comment on one longer piece (10 pages) and a revision of that same piece. This class is open to writers of all ability levels. Join this online community of mothers who are interested in writing about motherhood!


Click here for registration details.

What are you gearing up for this fall?

August 10, 2015
by Kate


This morning as I headed out the door for a walk, there was a crispness to the air, a hint of fall. I always feel melancholy as summer winds down, and that’s there—the knowledge that another summer is coming to an end, and that fall, then winter are right around the corner.

But mixed in with the melancholy is, I have to admit, some relief. I’m very much looking forward to having the house to myself again, to getting back into my routines: meditation, writing, mid-day runs (hopefully, if my hip and gallbladder cooperate).

But it’s been a good summer—a summer on the patio, a summer with family and friends, a summer of books, a summer of noodling. (Thanks, Levi Weinhagen, for reminding me how much I love that term.)

Last month, I realized I needed to shake up the structure of my novel. Or maybe I didn’t need to, but what if? What if I blew it wide open, introduced another narrator? I thought about it on walks, in the early morning, my head fizzy with possibility, a new voice starting to take shape. But was it the right voice? A sixteen-year-old boy? What did I know about teenage boys? Was I crazy?

So I turned to my Facebook friends, searching for male narrators to help convince me I was on the right track. I ordered every book that was recommended, and Donny and I are making our way through the stack. So much fabulous YA fiction! I can’t get enough of it. Here is some of what I’ve been reading and loving:

Magonia by Maria Dahvana Headley – I don’t usually read fantasy, but even before I opened this book, I knew I’d love it. And I was right; it swept me away. I fell in love with Aza Ray and Jason. I wept uncontrollably at both the beginning and end, which prompted many hugs from the girls.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell – I’m not sure how many times I’d picked this up in the bookstore and turned it over, smiling as I read the inside flap. So when a friend recommended it for my quest, I knew it was time. It’s so damn good. I was giddy as I read, nodding my head, desperate for these two to find their way together. Like Magonia, this book has alternating narrators, and it works so well. So well.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alíre Sáenz – How have I not read any of Sáenz’s books before? He’s amazing, and he’s a powerhouse having written eighteen books, including poetry, novels, short stories, and children’s books. I raced through this beautiful book with my heart in my throat, so worried about these two young men, so wanting them to be okay. LOVE!

Small Damages by Beth Kephart – You know that I love Beth’s writing (which I’ve written about here and here), and though this novel doesn’t have a male narrator, it’s been on my list for a long time, so I was excited to dive into it. I was not disappointed. It’s beautiful and sad and hopeful. I could feel Spain come alive on the page, almost smell the citrus in the air. Just lovely.

I’ll keep going with the pile stacked high on the floor of my office, but now it will be for pure enjoyment rather than reassurance. These awesome books have helped me trust that young man taking shape in my mind. So I’ll noodle about him a little longer and as soon as everyone clears the house and heads back to school, I’ll let his voice spool out across the page.

What are you noodling on this summer?

July 14, 2015
by Kate

summer and taking stock

I’ve been quiet here these last weeks. Part of the reason is that I’ve been busy. In early June we road-tripped to Winnipeg for a couple of days to see the first U.S. Women’s World Cup game, which was incredible and inspiring. The rest of the month was swallowed up with editing and teaching prep, doctor’s appointments, and the girls’ soccer games. Then we were up north with my family for a week before the 4th, after which I headed straight to Madeline Island to teach my women’s memoir retreat. Busy, yes. But part of the reason I haven’t posted in a while is that I’m not sure what I want to say here right now. I’ve been feeling a need to pull back and take stock.

I’ve been blogging since early 2007. I’ve reviewed dozens of books and interviewed dozens of authors. I’ve blogged about teaching and writing and family. I’ve connected with so many all-around fabulous people. I’m so grateful for that. But this last year with all of my health ups and downs—and it’s still up and down—I’ve realized I have to change something. Slow down. Refocus on my own work. Savor the time I have with my family. Read.

Summer is ordinarily a very busy time of year for me, but this year things have opened up, and I’ve come to realize that this is exactly what I need. I need to sit on the back patio in the morning with Donny, cups of coffee in our hands as we chat, admiring the garden and the life we’ve built together. I need to spend long afternoons with the girls at a city lake or a local pool. Maybe I need to scream my way down the zip line, dropping into the pool with a great splash, thoroughly embarrassing those girls. Maybe.

In my tiny pantry office, I have stacks of books I’ve been sent over the years, books to review. For years my to-do list has always included the name of at least one author to interview. I’ve read incredible books and had the opportunity to chat and email with so many talented and gracious authors. But I think I’m done now. (Yikes. I feel simultaneously thrilled and sick to my stomach writing those words—a sign that, for now at least, they are the right words, the right decision.)

I’m not sure what I do want to do in this space, but my gut tells me that I’d like to bring this blog closer to home, figure out how I can use this space to once again feed my creative process, enhance it. A need to turn inward, to listen to my own pulse.

I don’t know what that will look like, but I hope you’ll stick around and see what happens. I appreciate your patience as I fumble along, testing out what feels right.

June 12, 2015
by Kate

anthology week: the write on mamas’ mamas write

I’m happy to have Joanne Hartman, Mary Hill, and Janine Kovac, the editors of Mamas Write: 29 Tales of Truth, Wit and Grit, here for the final post of anthology week. Mamas Write is an anthology that grew out of the Write On Mamas, an amazing group of (mostly) women writers in the Bay Area. I first connected with them in 2012 when I was on tour for Use Your Words (though I previously knew Joanne through Literary Mama and Mary as one of my stellar students).


Over the years, I’ve led in person and online workshops for the group and I also worked with them on Mamas Write, so this anthology is dear to my heart. I’ll quote a little of what I wrote in the foreword, which echoes what Suzi and Kasia said in their interviews earlier this week:

This anthology not only celebrates why and how and what these mothers are getting down on the page; it celebrates community, the ways in which we support each other as writers and as parents. In “The Next Prompt,” the final piece in this book, Janine Kovac writes, “I know that if I can’t share these feelings here—with these mothers who graciously share their stories with me—then […] I will never write truthfully about anything.”

These writers have taken a leap—to write their truth, and to share that truth with each other, to share it with you. This collection is ultimately about the power inherent not only in writing, but in sharing our stories. It’s about creating a space—virtual or in person—where we all feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to write what we’ve been too scared to write.

KH: Thanks for being here, Write On Mamas. Tell me a little bit about how you conceived of this anthology. Why did you feel there was a need for it? What made you take the leap?

WOM: Our anthology is a collection of stories written by members of our writing group, the Write On Mamas. The idea for the anthology came from the recognition that while we were a group with varied writing experience (from journalers to published authors) and varied writing interests (fiction, memoir, poetry, etc.) we all possessed a strong desire to write regardless of the barriers that parenting flung in our direction. From that spark, that drive, the initial question that shaped this anthology emerged: “Why do you write?”

The project, from start to finish, was an inclusive one. We are proud that every member who adhered to the submission and editing deadlines is included in this volume. We enlisted the developmental editing help of Kate who guided us in shaping our words into focused stories through her Motherhood & Words class and with individual editing. We were thrilled to see these polished pieces emerge from our rough drafts.

KH: It was so fun to see them change and grow over through the process!

Can you talk about the way the book is structured? Did the pieces you receive dictate the content of the book, or did you specifically seek out essays to address different topics that come up when women write about motherhood?

WOM: As we included all essays that were submitted we had less control over the content or sub-themes of the pieces. But that only made it more fun! Structuring the anthology was like putting together a puzzle. We sat for hours in our favorite café, discussing placement and thinking carefully about the emotional journey the reader would take. We aimed to place humorous or lighter pieces after a group of more challenging ones, shorter pieces after long ones.

KH: What pieces in the anthology particularly resonate with you? Why?

WOM: With three editors, not surprisingly we all had different pieces that resonated deeply with us. For example, the pieces that dealt with loss and challenging times especially resonated with Mary and Joanne liked the humorous pieces that made her laugh.

KH: Was there anything that was particularly challenging or surprising that you encountered as you compiled and published your anthology?

WOM: We had no idea what we were getting into. How hard could it be to collect the pieces, send back a few edits, put them in order and send them off to the copy editor? We met every Friday morning at Bittersweet Café in Oakland, CA and poured over each of the submissions, crafted emails to authors with suggested edits, reviewed copy-editing, and wrote the appendices. It was a lot of work, but we loved working together and look back on our chocolate zucchini bread and hot cocoa days with fondness. Writing is so often solitary, but we found that editing as a team was a collaborative and bonding experience.

KH: What advice would you give to women who are just starting to explore motherhood as a subject matter in their writing?

WOM: It sounds cliché, but keep writing. Jot down the little things as you go about your day and file or type them up later. Take ten minutes to scribble down that moment you don’t want to forget. Enroll in a class – we are all big fans of Kate’s Motherhood & Words classes and retreats – to help you dive deeper and find the story emerging from your writing. And Write On Mamas has a national membership, so check us out!

KH: Aw, shucks, thank you! And thanks for taking the time to chat with me here at Motherhood & Words.

Thank you to all the editors whose anthologies were featured this week. Here’s to continuing to create the space for all our stories!

Leave a comment below by June 24th for a chance to win a copy of Mamas Write.

June 10, 2015
by Kate

anthology week: kasia james’ the milk of female kindness

The second motherhood anthology I’m featuring this week is The Milk of Female Kindness: An Anthology of Honest Motherhood, edited by Kasia James. Kasia is the author of many short stories and science fiction novel The Artemis Effect. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with a hydrologist, an ankle biter and a big black cat called George.

One of the things I really like about this anthology is the fact that it contains pieces from women across the world. I love what Kasia says in the introduction: “Some of the stories will touch you, and some may challenge you, but all will give a greater understanding of what motherhood has meant to ‘ordinary’ women around the world…In diversity, we hope to encourage you to think and feel about motherhood in a deeper and different way.” And her book really does embrace a diversity of voices, which I love.

I’m happy to welcome Kasia to Motherhood & Words today. Thank you for being here, Kasia! (Leave a comment below for a chance to win a copy of The Milk of Female Kindness.)


KH: Tell me a little bit about how you conceived of this anthology. Why did you feel there was a need for it? What made you take the leap?

KJ: Anger, primarily! When I had my son, I was at first surprised, and then progressively frustrated and dismayed in the way that society’s attitudes toward me appeared to have changed. Now ‘just a Mum,’ it seemed that the media believed that I should only be interested in nappies (diapers), my post-baby body and shopping. There seems to be a genuine dichotomy between motherhood as a shining and impossibly ideal, and yet also a dismissive attitude to women who are mothers.

Motherhood is such a fundamental change to a woman’s life, and an immensely complicated and challenging role. I wanted to collect women’s writing, artwork and thinking to broaden the conversation about the real experience. For this reason, I was quite deliberate in seeking a diverse range of women: writing as mothers of young children, older children, children with disabilities and also as daughters, in conjunction with historical, feminist, psychological and medical perspectives.

KH: I love the title. Can you tell me a little about that?

KJ: It’s a quote from the screenplay of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, which discusses what it means to be a “real” man and a “real” woman:

“I might choose not to sacrifice my life caring for my children, nor my children’s children, nor drown anonymously in the milk of female kindness, but instead, say to go abroad. Would I still then be…”

“A real woman?”

I’ve always loved the sound of these words.

KH: Can you talk about the way the book is structured? Did the pieces you receive dictate the content of the book, or did you specifically seek out essays to address different topics that come up when women write about motherhood?

KJ: The book did grow somewhat organically. I started with a core of great writers who I had met through blogging. They suggested other terrific women writers and artists who I contacted. At that point, knowing that my aim was to embrace the diversity of motherhood, I started to deliberately seek out people to write on particular topics. I hunted through publications such as Lunar Station Quarterly (which publishes speculative and science fiction by women) to find others. My own mother also wrote a piece for the anthology, which discusses not only her views about motherhood, but recalls her memories of my grandmother, so there is a personal connection there too.

The anthology also features three interviews, and I went to some trouble to find the right people to give a genuinely honest and thoughtful views of their areas of expertise.

In terms of the structure of the book, I took particular pleasure in arranging the pieces to bounce off one another: either to pick up on a theme from the previous work, or to contrast with it. As The Milk of Female Kindness contains quite a body of amazing poetry, there was also a need to balance the pace of poetry against prose and factual information.

KH: What pieces in the anthology particularly resonate with you? Why?

KJ: I think the pieces that particularly chime with me personally will change over time, as my son grows. He is only two and a half now, so ones like “Distance” by Kitty Brody, which really speaks from the heart about the guilt of leaving small children, and the fiction piece “Failure of Heaven” by Christa Forster, a darkly powerful piece about the cost to us of protecting our children, really resonate with me now. I also adore a lot of the poetry and flash fiction in the book. It’s a form of writing, for me, that captures the essence of a feeling or situation, like an ant in amber: a frozen moment or idea. In particular, I’d have to choose “The Changeling” by Laura Evans, “The Maclaren” by Marie Marshall, and “Something Like Survivor’s Guilt” by Angelique Jamail.

That said, if the pieces didn’t resonate with me, they wouldn’t be included in the book! They are all included because they made me think, made me glow, or tore my heart.

KH: Was there anything that was particularly challenging or surprising that you encountered as you compiled and published your anthology?

KJ: To be honest, I think that apart from the grind of proof reading (many times!), the most challenging but also the most rewarding thing was to put aside my personal experiences and beliefs. Just because they are mine doesn’t mean that they are more valid than anyone else’s! Compiling the collection has really helped to sort out my own thinking and perspective on motherhood: I certainly don’t feel I have all the answers, but I’m perhaps more comfortable with that uncertainty!

I was also blown away by the naked honesty the women in my book shared. Motherhood is deeply personal, and some of the emotions it brings out in us are not always acceptable to the world, nor even to ourselves. I can’t express how honoured I am that this fantastic group of women chose to share their real stories and ideas about motherhood: the relentless hard grind and the sacrifices, but also the limitless loyalty, the pride and the love.

KH: What advice would you give to women who are just starting to explore motherhood as a subject matter in their writing?

I suppose like motherhood itself, I’m no expert. However, I would agree with one of our interviewees, Professor Alison Bartlett, who is the Chair of Women’s Studies at the University of Western Australia. She expresses the importance of having more stories about this issue out there as a means to rethinking and broadening our understanding of what it means to be a mother. Without a diversity of views, we are more prone to a media driven, narrow-minded view of the whole experience.

From my perspective, I would also suggest considering separating your experiences from those of your children in your writing, although of course your lives are intimately linked. By this I mean that I might be fascinated by the differences in approach or life experience of another woman who is ostensibly in the same position as I am, but perhaps will not be so enthralled by the intimate details of potty training! What are your thoughts, reflections, fears? What makes you angry, or guilty, or joyful? What is it really like to give birth, or to give up a child? These are experiences that only you can write about. They are not pedestrian, to be brushed aside as “women’s business.” There is daily heroism here – celebrate it!

KH: Thank you so much for being here at Motherhood & Words and chatting about your anthology with me, Kasia!

Readers, please leave a comment below by June 22nd for your change to win a copy!