Isn’t it a relief when you cross a major—always-gnawing-at-the-back-of-your-mind—task off your to-do list?
Such was the case for me today.
I came back from my remote little place in Hawaii to gray skies, gusty winds and frigid temperatures, and yet I’m ecstatic from just having completed a major edit for the second book in the C’mon Funk series.
The first book came in at 275 pages, but the second is over 600. That’s because this memoir focuses on Funk’s run for mayor of Kansas City. And there’s just too much tell when you’re giving an inside look at a grassroots campaign, because there’s just so much seediness involved in the political world.
Same as in my debut, this volume includes my observations of the weird side of life. And since the detailed descriptions of my tortured mind is what keeps my therapist in stitches most of the time, I’m hoping this next read will also bring a smile to your face, and perhaps, if you’re prone to anxiety like I am, it will provide some comfort from knowing that you are not alone.
The storyline begins with me going from being just a dutiful wife—doing my husband a favor by setting up his campaign headquarters for him—to becoming his campaign manager by default, and eventually, helping him across the finish line.
Book two won’t make the best summer book list, because it doesn’t come out until early 2020. Which is good, because we haven’t settled on a title just yet.
For now, the working title is: C’mon Funk, Move Your (you know what!): How a Demure Little Wife Made Her Husband a Big-City Mayor.
But there’s a big push to change it to: Notes from the DoubleWide. Because that's where I placed Funk’s headquarters—inside a brokedown trailer—and the title refers to the name of the campaign newsletter that I sent to Funk’s supporters. A newsletter where nothing was held back, just like with these posts.
Here’s hoping that you, too, get to experience the relief of knocking something major off your to-do list.
The photo: The cover that we were once considering for book two. Where it ends up nobody knows.