But you asked me what it was like to turn a serial into a book form, and was there a difference in reaction. Rewriting the book was quite easy--it NEEDED rewriting. In fact, I often found myself wincing at the original, since I wrote it so quickly (literally week to week, sometimes as many as 5,000-7,000 words written right up to the midnight deadline). It was like posting a first draft. I reworked it, and during the reworking I found myself returning to many of the readers' comments, which were helpful. Also, I'd sold the serial as a hardcover to Warner when it was only half-finished, and my editor asked me not to "end" the book, but leave it in some sort of cliffhanger. Guiltily, I complied. The new hardcover version, aside from being more polished, also has an ending. Reaction is quite different, in that to any published book, an author can only judge by sales. It's now into its second week on the Washington Post bestseller list, and the publisher tells me it's selling well--but I have to say, it was a lot more fun publishing it on the Internet. You didn't have to worry about sales. You didn't have to walk into bookstores and make sure it was on a front table. Reaction was immediate, and gratifying.

Q: Do you think political affiliation or personal philosophy will influence how one reacts to the book? (left vs. right) What about cultural, economic, or geographical differences/circumstances? (If you are a Mid-Western Middle Class housewife does it change the way you react to the book as compared to an East Coast Lawyer? What if you don't have kids? etc.)

A: I've always been surprised how "politicized" motherhood has become. How one mothers, whether one is a full-, part-, or working mother is obviously a deeply personal question. Yet where one "stands" on motherhood has come to mark you politically: If you support at-home mothers, and wish to encourage women to stay home with their children--or look for alternative solutions to the 40-hour work week for mothers of small children--this brands you as a "conservative." If, on the other hand, you want to look to state solutions for childcare a la Hillary Clinton, this sets you in the "liberal" camp. I've written on these issues as a journalist--indeed my first book, "What Our Mothers Didn't Tell Us"--was a non-fiction critique of many of the assumptions about marriage, motherhood, love etc. my "post-feminist" generation took for granted. "Amanda Bright @ Home" continues to explore many of the themes that fascinated me then and continue to fascinate me: How does a modern woman, raised to have a full-time career, suddenly adapt to full-time motherhood? How does it affect her identity? Her marriage? Her husband? Her sex life--or, as it may be for many exhausted women, her lack of it?
And these very personal issues cross political lines. To that degree, fiction is liberating. When you write a non-fiction essay about motherhood, it's considered polarizing--you get slammed from all sides. But exploring a modern woman's life subtly, truthfully, and through every day incidents--this is a much better way to understanding. And when I wrote the story, initially, for Journal readers, I really had no idea what its reach would be. Its reach was staggering--women of all economic, political, and regional stripe began writing to me. My favorite reader was a generation older than me, living in Walla Walla, Washington. I have no idea what party she is registered with, nor what is the balance of her savings account. But she identified with Amanda's trials and tribulations as a woman. I also heard a lot from men. Some loved the Washington subplot of the book and grew impatient with the chapters that dwelled upon Amanda. Others wrote me to say, "Thank you. Now I know why my wife threw that shoe at me the other night when I came home from work." Sadly, a childless man told me that reading the novel vindicated his decision not to get married and have children (!). As between the sides of the so-called "mommy wars," both seemed pleased: at-home mothers found a character with whom they could identify, going through everything they were going through; working mothers could vicariously see what their existence would be like if they gave up their jobs.