1. I got hives.
  2. I was told by a dermatologist that I might have secondary syphillis.
  3. I found out I did not, in fact, have secondary syphillis.
  4. I decided secondary syphillis would be a great name for a band.
  5. I decided nobody should ever say the words secondary syphillis unless they are medically certain they have contracted secondary syphillis.
  6. I found out my ex—who told me he couldn’t get married for five years—got engaged.
  7. I threw out my back.
  8. I had several conversations that scared the bejeezus out of me, to prove to myself that I could.
  9. I got in a fight with my father about his preemptive acceptance of anything and everything I wrote about him in the book (don’t try to make it make sense).
  10. I got in another fight with a best friend.
  11. I forgot another best friend’s birthday.
  12. I forgot to drink water.
  13. I forgot to eat.
  14. I remembered to eat but forgot to eat anything but graham crackers with peanut butter.
  15. I cried a lot.
  16. I asked for help a lot, at first just to the air and the walls and my pots and pans.
  17. I prayed that help would conjure itself out of thin air, into my kitchen.
  18. I realized I could not do it all alone.
  19. I hired a miraculous assistant named Shelby who is far cooler than I will ever be.
  20. I burned a galette and threw the entire thing in the trash.
  21. I worked every single day for three months straight, without weekends.
  22. I became very afraid of my inbox.
  23. I discovered that I could be way more productive than I typically am.
  24. I wrote most of a book sitting at the bar of Republique LA, flanked by $8 almond milk matcha lattes and giant bottles of free sparkling water from their sparkling water fountain and sometimes also by other writer friends who came to write and keep me company.
  25. I learned it's not ever really done, even when you think it is.