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Chapters (28)
  1. SO LUCKY
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. Acknowledgements
  20. Keep Reading …
  21. Introduction
  22. PIECE ONE
  23. Parenting – WHAT is that smell?
  24. PIECE TWO
  25. Don’t miss the ‘So Lucky’ podcast series
  26. About the Author
  27. Also by Dawn O’Porter
  28. About the Publisher

Art and Valentine, my two little guys. Thanks for the love and the material. You bring me (almost) constant joy. I love being your mum. I even like how hard you make writing. I like how motivated I have to be. I like that you distract me from total despair when I am on a deadline, even if I don’t realise it at the time. My goodness, we are going to have so much fun.

Thanks to anyone I didn’t mention here but should have. The rest of my family, the rest of my friends. I’ve been writing solidly for months, my eyes and fingers hurt. Know that if you encourage me, help me or support me in any way, I am extremely grateful.

Dawn x

Keep Reading …

Keep Reading …

Dear 2020 – Can we just start over?

Read on to enjoy an extract from the hilarious, heartbreaking and highly entertaining new book by Dawn O’Porter

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Dawn O’Porter has been thinking about life. In lockdown. Mostly from a cupboard.

The highs and lows, finding comfort in the chaos, and the new normal that’s anything but.

LIFE IN PIECES is a book for anyone who’s been thrown into a life they didn’t plan, or who just wants to stick it to 2020. When everything’s falling apart, well piece it back together.

Coming October 2020

Click here to buy now

[LIFE IN PIECES [ePub edition] 978-0-00-843189-1]



Introduction

Dear 2020,

Earlier this year I got myself a paper diary. I wanted to go back to writing things down, rather than having everything on my phone. I found it today and got so sad when I saw how empty it was. Just months of nothing. No people, no meetings, no life. I sat and looked at it and got a little weepy. There was supposed to be all this other stuff, and it just wasn’t there. There was only emptiness.

As always, in January, I started the year with great intentions and felt good about what was heading my way. I wanted a better balance of deadlines and parenting. We’d just returned from Christmas in Ireland and, while the rest of the world dieted, I continued to eat like my life depended on it until my forty-first birthday on 23 January (feel free to write that down). It’s always my most greedy month, because as soon as New Year is done, I get into birthday mode. I celebrate a lot every year. Multiple dinners and events, I’ve always been the same. Delighted to reach another age, excited to be healthy and (generally) happy. My birthday passed and I remained committed to making small improvements to my life – none of which involved more exercise, less food or smaller measures of tequila, but I had deleted Instagram from my phone (lasted a week). I’d started to search for a therapist to iron out the many creases that form by the time you hit your forties.