"Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game
Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend with you"
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game
Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend with you"
“You sleep now.”
A dream demand to any woman, but not Mary White.
Mary wakes groggy and strapped to an intravenous in a hospital bed with no recollection of how she got there, with wounds and bruises, and an unbearable sense of guilt. She remembers driving to spend the night at a friend’s. They were talking on her porch. The details, foggy, the sense the conversation was a confession, clear. She wants to stay awake and think more, but she cannot recall the next steps.
Steps, among other things, have gotten to Mary.
She followed them her whole life.
After college, she went to grad school. After school, took the first job with good health insurance that came her way. She dated a handsome guy who worked in finance. Married him after ten years of dating. Two years later, she had a baby. They moved to a house in the suburbs where Mary found herself a stay-at-home mother gazing wistfully out the window, suppressing the call that wormed from within her depths as she plowed through her days of endless tasks (dinner, driving, laundry), worry about her daughter (“is this fever bad?”) socially delivering the script (“can’t wait for the BBQ, let me know what I can bring!”). . . all the while her husband working so much he was barely around, their main form of communication, texting (“can you pick up my dry cleaning”). . . her whispers from the shadows nudged, is this it for you, Mary? what are you going to do next? And what were her choices? Told for her first thirty years she could be anything she wanted—then grew older and learned all of that build up, talk and planning, focus on becoming something—“girls can be anything!”—meant she could be something until she had a baby and then her choices would be limited: would she be a working mom or a stay-at-home mom. Would she be halved or hallowed. Life as a woman—wife, mother, daughter—meant days spent taking care of everyone else.
“MARY WHITE!”
So, she almost pops an artery reaching for her laptop. It is in the corner, peeking from her bag. With her history of diagnosing herself with diseases off the Internet (was she tired? Or was it Lyme), and googling all things important (“what is Shep from Southern Charm up to?”), she will search for information. Forget the physical pain. The rising spotty memories. The ache in her bones says the cause of her accident is in there.
Is it her blog of letters to her daughter, These Precious Days, written with no fan base but as an attempt to keep her ever-dwindling sanity? Or something with an email? Like the emails she has been getting by mistake all year for another woman of the same name? “Fancy Mary,” as she came to call her, who took amazing vacations, got honored by charities, this other Mary White even traveled by private plane--
She will not be able to find out. The nurse snatches the laptop. Inserts a syringe into Mary’s intravenous. Loads her with a heavy dose.
“That’s my girl. You sleep. Everything will be okay. Take things one step at a time.”
Mary falls asleep and does just that. As she is dreaming, she watches the events from the past year leading up to that mysterious waking moment play out before her. One day after the next, after the next. . .
Join Mary in her search to uncover a shocking secret, which ultimately explores the burden of womanhood, patriarchal norms, and the brutality of life in a world where we know everything must come to an end.
For fans of Maria Semple, All Beginnings, All of the Time is a timely story about the challenge of moving forward in the face of uncertain days, delivered with warmth and humor.
Early reader reviews:
“A reminder that no one has a perfect life and those that seem to always have a deeper story.”
“Mary is a complex character who I think all women, at least those who are honest with themselves, can see themselves in.”
“I can’t wait to go back and re-read the end, only this time make note of its wisdoms.”
“It’s the perfect book-club book.”
“Thank you for introducing me to Mary, her strengths, weaknesses, foibles and humor.”
For a glimpse into Mary's world, please visit her blog, These Precious Days. (*Note this is original content, nothing from the book has been published, rather visit to see how something like this could be used for marketing, combined with Mary herself going social: click here.)
A dream demand to any woman, but not Mary White.
Mary wakes groggy and strapped to an intravenous in a hospital bed with no recollection of how she got there, with wounds and bruises, and an unbearable sense of guilt. She remembers driving to spend the night at a friend’s. They were talking on her porch. The details, foggy, the sense the conversation was a confession, clear. She wants to stay awake and think more, but she cannot recall the next steps.
Steps, among other things, have gotten to Mary.
She followed them her whole life.
After college, she went to grad school. After school, took the first job with good health insurance that came her way. She dated a handsome guy who worked in finance. Married him after ten years of dating. Two years later, she had a baby. They moved to a house in the suburbs where Mary found herself a stay-at-home mother gazing wistfully out the window, suppressing the call that wormed from within her depths as she plowed through her days of endless tasks (dinner, driving, laundry), worry about her daughter (“is this fever bad?”) socially delivering the script (“can’t wait for the BBQ, let me know what I can bring!”). . . all the while her husband working so much he was barely around, their main form of communication, texting (“can you pick up my dry cleaning”). . . her whispers from the shadows nudged, is this it for you, Mary? what are you going to do next? And what were her choices? Told for her first thirty years she could be anything she wanted—then grew older and learned all of that build up, talk and planning, focus on becoming something—“girls can be anything!”—meant she could be something until she had a baby and then her choices would be limited: would she be a working mom or a stay-at-home mom. Would she be halved or hallowed. Life as a woman—wife, mother, daughter—meant days spent taking care of everyone else.
“MARY WHITE!”
So, she almost pops an artery reaching for her laptop. It is in the corner, peeking from her bag. With her history of diagnosing herself with diseases off the Internet (was she tired? Or was it Lyme), and googling all things important (“what is Shep from Southern Charm up to?”), she will search for information. Forget the physical pain. The rising spotty memories. The ache in her bones says the cause of her accident is in there.
Is it her blog of letters to her daughter, These Precious Days, written with no fan base but as an attempt to keep her ever-dwindling sanity? Or something with an email? Like the emails she has been getting by mistake all year for another woman of the same name? “Fancy Mary,” as she came to call her, who took amazing vacations, got honored by charities, this other Mary White even traveled by private plane--
She will not be able to find out. The nurse snatches the laptop. Inserts a syringe into Mary’s intravenous. Loads her with a heavy dose.
“That’s my girl. You sleep. Everything will be okay. Take things one step at a time.”
Mary falls asleep and does just that. As she is dreaming, she watches the events from the past year leading up to that mysterious waking moment play out before her. One day after the next, after the next. . .
Join Mary in her search to uncover a shocking secret, which ultimately explores the burden of womanhood, patriarchal norms, and the brutality of life in a world where we know everything must come to an end.
For fans of Maria Semple, All Beginnings, All of the Time is a timely story about the challenge of moving forward in the face of uncertain days, delivered with warmth and humor.
Early reader reviews:
“A reminder that no one has a perfect life and those that seem to always have a deeper story.”
“Mary is a complex character who I think all women, at least those who are honest with themselves, can see themselves in.”
“I can’t wait to go back and re-read the end, only this time make note of its wisdoms.”
“It’s the perfect book-club book.”
“Thank you for introducing me to Mary, her strengths, weaknesses, foibles and humor.”
For a glimpse into Mary's world, please visit her blog, These Precious Days. (*Note this is original content, nothing from the book has been published, rather visit to see how something like this could be used for marketing, combined with Mary herself going social: click here.)