Hi, I'm Jennifer. I write stories that are humiliating and true. My current project is a funny memoir about postpartum depression. If motherhood has been more challenging than you expected or you've felt betrayed by your own thoughts, don't worry. I feel it too.

My descriptions throughout the book are vibrant and sensuous, set in the mossy Pacific Northwest. Like the rubbery red polka-dot mushrooms growing under an old fir tree, I get down and dirty with the details of my disturbing thoughts, in hopes that other moms will avoid the poisonous temptations of self-loathing and guilt. And find a place to thrive.

I feel like the concrete sidewalk on which we take pace, cold, hardened, one-dimensional and flat.  Each slab of gray reflects the pewter sky above. The kids have been up since five-thirty and the light hasn’t changed since the sun rose at seven-thirty. I wonder if it’s nine or eleven. My anger hovers like the cloud layer above. This dull light signals the start of the darker days from which I will suffer even more.

- excerpt from Chapter 26