Hey Ladiiiiieeees,

On our weekly girl date that you’re not invited to, between aerial goat yoga and the “Wheel-Thrown Ceramics for Change” fundraiser, Rach and I discussed how fun it would be to start a BOOK CLUB.

We know that everyone on this highly exclusive email list loves to read. (Nerd alert!) But more importantly, we all share the intense desire to form groups that exclude others in order to make us feel more socially valuable in the marketplace of life.

So. Hear me out, sistas.

I’ve been totally jealous of this friend.

Ok, she’s more of a friend-of-a-friend.

Ok, she’s more of a person I’ve never met but I follow across all social media platforms.

Anyway. She’s part of a book club that only reads books that they loved from their youth. Cute idea, right? The group includes high-status people from multiple creative industries that I wish I were friends with instead of any of you.

And I think we can one-up them. Rach thinks so too, but this was my idea, and as a woman in this world, I know I need to step into my power and claim credit for everything I deserve. And I truly deserve so much.

I’m thinking that we should definitely read books from our childhood in our book club, but only ones that are thematically tied and/or contributed to all of the issues that Jessica has ever cried about in therapy. (Shout-out to Jessica’s therapist, Dr. Cobb — welcome to the club, hon!)

Jessica’s always complaining about how, from the tender age of six, her mother would leave her home alone in a room of books instead of hiring a babysitter. She’s confided in me (and only me) that she genuinely thought she was one of the Boxcar Children growing up. I think we can consider Jessica’s tenuous ability to differentiate truth from fiction, and the fact that she has not yet fully processed the chilling relationship she has with her mother, as we make our book selections.

I feel like this book club could be a really empowering opportunity to get together — as women — and, you know, read. A few of us have already met behind most of your backs to curate a list of books as a jumping off point.

I think we should start with The Face on the Milk Carton since Jess was kidnapped at least once as a child. Then, maybe we could move on to the entire Dawn Rochelle cancer series, in order: Six Months to Live, I Want to Live, So Much to Live For, No Time to Cry, and To Live Again — one book for each of the five kinds of childhood cancer that Jess survived. And then possibly The Indian in the Cupboard, not only because Jessica herself was often forced to spend time in “cupboard jail” as she calls it, but also to remind her of the fact that she never got to meet her Iroquois father.

We’ll meet every other Sunday at my place (B.Y.O Rosé), and continue the group forever, or until Jessica is institutionalized, whichever comes first.

Jessica, hope this is cool with you.

Consensual hugs and kisses,
Your Fearless Literary Leader