what my brilliant friend taught me

I woke up with my eyes half open, enough to see that my bedside table looked like a mad scientist’s lab.

I didn’t have any Petri dishes or beakers but I had piles of books, pens all over, and a few too many pairs of eyeglasses.

Under 40, are you? Just you wait. 😉

So you know that guy in Back to the Future who’s happy and smiling but a little bit nuts?

That’s how I feel sometimes! It can be dizzying upon my entry and exit into bed.

Choosing which book to read even when I know I’ll be snoring within 3 minutes of getting horizontal.

It’s the same conundrum every night. Which book will inspire me, teach me, move me forward.

You see writing a book means you also have to read books.

A lot of them.

I want to know every single thing that’s out there – about play, happiness, habits, personal development, parenting, gluten-free eating, coffee making in Costa Rica to make me feel better about my over-consumption, what Amy Schumer was thinking about the Will Smith slap, and so on.

I know I need to put limits on absorbing so much and just start my own writing. Maybe I need a coach.

But let’s get back to my bedside table.

You know what’s missing?


Good old fashion books of fiction.

My 1st grade teacher Mrs. Newman taught me that I could remember what fiction was by the letter F.

False, meaning not true. A story that is made up and not based in real life.

But oh so many of my fiction books have informed my real life!

So as I packed for Mexico last week, I chucked the book about procrastination out the window (okay not really, but as my agent waits for edits and I keep giving her the-dog-i-don’t-have-ate-itkind of excuses, I’m not the biggest fan of reading anything about procrastination right now).

I picked up My Brilliant Friend, given to me a few years ago by my brilliant friend.

Fiction. Transporting. Captivating. The writing was as brilliant as her friend in the book.

So much so that when I flew back to NYC I felt like I had just been to Naples, not Mexico.

It was as if I just had a reunion with my southern Italian family.

Why do I want to tell you this?

Because it’s yet another way to play.

To my friends, I seem happiest when I’m expressing my “Explorer” or “Mover” self.

But my Play Personality Quiz results showed a slice of “Thinker” in me too, and I had forgotten what it felt like to read without interruption, without needing to learn something, and without falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

So yes, that counts as PLAY.

Play is something you love to do, when you lose track of time, and the only purpose or end result is for you. Your own happiness.

How often are you doing that? Choosing your own way to play?

Do you even remember what it is? Is it a long-lost fiction book too?

If you don’t know, you’re like most people! That’s why I wrote a Playbook to help you go deeper, and on your own, to figure out what you need to more of…for your own happiness.

You can check it out here.

And then go get playing because the clock is ticking and pretty soon you may need to have your eyeglasses laying around everywhere too.

With fierce love,
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