Debbie Russell's Blog, page 4

Fathers Day, Book Birthday, and A New Published Piece!

Second to September, June is my favorite month of the year, and this June has been spectacular, if a little damp. All the frantic yard and garden work is subsiding, the gardens are looking lovely, the humidity’s making only sporadic appearances, and I now have the time to take multiple breaks in the day to just sit on my screened, bug-free porch and watch the magic of nature. I also love taking the dogs out each day for multiple meanderings around the property. If you follow me on Instagram you know I do a daily “morning musing” reel, where I share whatever happens to pop into my head on any given morning.

My walks with the dogs inspired my book recommendations for this month. Keep scrolling for those, as well as some garden photos!

June also marks Father’s Day. A father’s influence cannot be overstated. I often think about how my great-grandfather may have contributed to my grandfather’s feelings of inadequacy, which may have, in part, led to his dependance on narcotics.

Happy Birthday Crossing Fifty-One!

Last year at this time, I was gearing up for the launch of Crossing Fifty-One and—I can now admit—not managing my stress very well. But I got through it, the launch was a success, and on June 20th, my first published book turns a year old!

I love that the launch happened right after Father’s Day. I love the power of father love. Even though my dad’s been gone six years, I feel his love and pride for me every single day.

I’m also reminded that it’s still my job to continue to promote the book, even if I’m on to other things—like writing the next one!

This recent review keeps the momentum going:

YOU can always help by recommending Crossing Fifty-One to a friend, posting a photo of yourself with the book on social media, or providing a rating on Amazon. All support is greatly appreciated!

Current work in progress (#WIP)

Chapter 1 is finished!

For now at least…

I sent it to my agent just a few days ago and am anxiously awaiting her feedback. One of the most challenging aspects to writing memoir is making the story clear for readers who don’t know me or the case. In 2012, I successfully prosecuted the wife of a local NFL player and weathered extensive media coverage. This book is about that case.

The office I once worked for has come under fire in the last year for questionable conduct on several significant cases. I was happy to have my recent commentary piece accepted by the Star Tribune: one of the the biggest newspapers in the Twin Cities. I plan to submit more opinion pieces related to trial work and the criminal justice system, because I believe the rule of law is currently under attack.

It’s funny that the paper wanted my full legal name when I submitted the piece, given how I feel about it. ICYMI, I wrote about it here:

Finally, here are those garden photos I promised:

See you next month!

~ Debbie

JUNE BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS:

NONFICTION:

It occurred to me while on a recent walkabout with Watson and Fuji, that I’ve come as close as I’ll ever be able to recreating the author’s life in this wonderful book. When I first read it, while riding the bus to work every day and leaving my dogs alone in a tiny house with a tiny yard, I often dreamed of something better for them. Now I have it. 😊

FICTION:

During a book club meeting about ten years ago, the host’s daughter made an appearance and shyly recommended another book by Kate DiCamillo, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. While our group did not select it, I bought it, along with this one which I’m recommending consistent with this month’s dog theme. Yes, I know it’s a kid’s book, but sometimes, a book like this can be a wonderful palate cleanser for our troubling times.

My Three Big Takeaways from the Trump Trial

I’ve got to admit, the Trump trial has brought back a lot of memories from the biggest trial I ever prosecuted. So much has changed regarding media coverage since 2012, and I’m certain New York state law differs from here in Minnesota. So I thought I’d provide a little of my own color commentary on some observations I’ve made over the last month.

1. Courtroom sketches are still quite bad.

I realize that courtroom artists are under the gun and need to whip out some sort of image that captures what’s going on during a trial. Though I have to wonder where they get their training… To a person, faces are grossly distorted and nobody comes out looking even the slightest bit attractive or even how they look in real life. Case in point: Hope Hicks. She’s beautiful, but her court sketch made her look quite un-beautiful. And the internet blew up over the sketches of Stormy Daniels. “Doesn’t even look like her!”

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Mothers Day and the Parentified Child

Mother’s Day is rough for many of us. Over the course of the last few years, I’ve stamped my membership card in a pretty big club whose members have, or have had in the past, strained relationships with their mothers. Simply knowing such a club exists has been a game-changer for me.

You see, there was a time when I was convinced that I was the cause of the challenges in my relationship with my mother. She was quite skilled at subtly hinting that, if only I were different, things would be better. Over the course of fifty years, this theory of hers ultimately led to an irrevocable estrangement.

It might have been in therapy, it might have been somewhere else, but I know it was within the last few years I learned about the term parentified child. It can mean different things in different contexts, but it completely resonated with me, as I realized from the time I was ten or so, many of my mother’s insecurities and anxieties seemed to be my responsibility to manage.

In fact, as much as I try, I can pull up no memory of my mother as a safe haven for me. The comfort seemed to travel in only one direction, as I would listen to her worry about whether her cooking was adequate, or complain about which family member didn’t clean their plate at holiday meals. Because I helped her serve and clear off the table I was close at hand during those moments she was most vulnerable.

On the other hand, I remember my dad as a reliable source of advice, and support, as well as FUN.

As an adult, I spent even more time and bandwidth absorbing my mom’s anger, judgement of others, sadness, and histrionics around money. After my dad passed and we took a trip to Savannah to visit her sister, she openly referred to me as her “Paloma” from the Seinfeld episode. I guess it was supposed to be funny, but it only further cemented my identity as “the help.”

In Crossing Fifty-One, I devoted a chapter to a remarkable Mother’s Day, during which my dad overcame significant physical challenges to join my mom and me on a visit out to my recently purchased new home. At the time, my therapist told me he was both mother and father to me which, I’ve come to learn, can make a significant difference in how children end up.

I think I’ve done alright, and on this Mother’s Day, I celebrate Dad. I also want to commend all you mothers out there for doing the hard work of child raising. Cheers to you!

Book updates:

Crossing Fifty-One continues to resonate with people and last month I sold three books to fellow dog trainers while on a trip to Mississippi! A couple of weeks ago I participated in another book club where we traded stories about family secrets and the power of shame to silence. If you think Crossing Fifty-One would be a good fit for your book club, reach out! I can attend personally or virtually and the discussions are always lively!

I’m still working diligently on the proposal for my next book about my prosecution of the pro football player’s wife, and it challenges me in all new ways! It seems criminal trials hold fascination for many readers, so I hope my story will capture all the excitement of my own experiences.

BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS:

Nonfiction: While You Were Out by Meg Kissinger

This is a riveting account of a typical large Catholic family in the Midwest and its internal and mostly secret struggles with mental health.

Fiction: Tom Lake by Ann Patchett

In direct contrast to the secrets kept in While You Were Out, this latest novel by Ann Patchett celebrates a mother’s intentional sharing of her past life with her daughters in a way that deepens their relationships.

See you next month, when I hope to have lots of garden updates!

~ Debbie

Book Fairs, the Little White Lie, and Unexpected Joy

Hello Dear Reader!

Is it finally spring where you are? Here in Minnesota, a couple of spring snowstorms blew in well after we’d packed our shovels away and debated bringing out the porch furniture. That’ll teach us! March came in like a lamb and went out like a lion. But the thaw seems permanent and the first of the summer migratory birds have returned, which makes me so happy!

Also: I survived my first book fair! Truth be told, I’m not necessarily cut out for book fairs. As a friend pointed out, I had to be ON for eight hours, between my time as a “vendor,” and my last-of-the-day workshop presentation on writing, publishing and selling memoir. I’m one of those people who exerts an unnecessary amount of stress just getting to a new venue, so by the time I arrived, I was ready for a nap.

But I digress…

I learned a lot about book fairs that day!

I was fortunate to be placed next to a couple of really fun authors. We talked about how challenging it is to market and sell our books. Like most authors, I think we’d be most happy if someone else could take on that task. But there we were, hustling to attract potential book buyers. We had some great laughs and I learned about the biggest “little white lie” that gets told at book fairs:

“I’ll be back later to buy your book…”

It’s expressed in different ways:

“I’m waiting until I’m ready to go so I don’t have to lug a bunch of books around.”

(Makes sense.)

“I left my wallet in the car.”

(REALLY????)

Needless to say, I got excited anytime someone “committed” to buy my book. And when all was said and done, I sold eight and traded two. And my presentation seemed well received, despite me getting to the room late and muddling through technical challenges.

The very next day, I ran Fuji and Watson in an informal retriever event. Did I want to? Not really. I was exhausted and the weather was colder than I’d hoped. But I’d committed in my mind to getting them out there, so out we went. I won’t bore you with the details, but Watson surprised the heck out of me with his very joyful performance. And Fuji did not disappoint, winning one of the divisions in which he was entered.

As you read this, I’m finishing my packing for our first camping trip of 2024. We’re heading to the deep south to catch up on dog training that went on the back burner last summer when I found myself overwhelmed with the book launch. Traveling with the dogs brings me so much joy, so I’m chasing more of that this year. Here’s a photo from our mini trip last fall:

Speaking of Crossing Fifty-One, I just hit 70 Amazon reviews and I’m so grateful! Did you know that you can also post a photo of yourself with the book on social media and spread the word that way! Every little bit helps. Look at this photo from a library in the Virgin Islands!

That’s it for now. Wishing you all good things!

~ Debbie

BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS:

Fiction:

I first read this book when I was somewhere between 8 and 10 years old. Last summer I checked the eBook out of my local library. I loved this passage—especially as a writer—because description is really hard for me.

Then, I splurged and bought myself the 50th Anniversary hardcover. Some books you just have to hold and cherish forever.

Nonfiction:

Over the winter, I read the biography of Louise Fitzhugh and was quickly drawn into her fascinating, but unfortunately all-too-short life. This book, along with many other books and shows that I’ve devoured over the past six months or so, is a stark reminder of how it wasn’t that long ago that huge numbers of people lived varying degrees of hidden lives. Louise was not one of them, but she still struggled with insecurities and excessive alcohol use.

Do you have a podcast to recommend? Reply to this email so I can spread the word!

Winning While Losing

If you’ve read my book or followed me for any length of time, you know that I strive to practice stoicism. I’m a huge fan of Ryan Holiday and his Daily Stoic newsletter, which appears…you guessed it…every morning. It’s a good way to start the day.

So it felt fortuitous that, as I was working on my emotions around a disappointment, I was gifted with the reminder that we don’t control what’s happened, we only control our response to it. Marcus Aurelius said: we can turn everything that happens into fuel, and a perceived impediment to action can actually advance action.

But first, let me tell you about the disappointment…

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That Day I Wished I Was Different

The irony is not lost on me that on the heels of last month’s newsletter, I’m here with a story about how I failed to follow my own advice.

A couple weeks ago, I agreed to sit for a FOUR HOUR interview with a company that produces the series American Monster on the ID channel. They were profiling a 2005 domestic homicide case of mine and requested my participation.

After confirming with the victim’s family that they were on board, I agreed and actually felt excited about being part of this project. I obtained the trial transcript from my old office and, after only a few pages in, was taken aback by how much I’d forgotten about the case.

In fairness, the trial occurred eighteen years ago, and I’d go on to try many, many more. But what really shocked me was how feelings of anger and frustration flooded over me as I read what was essentially a record of epic legal battles between the defense lawyers, the judge and me. I found myself feeling exactly as I’d felt eighteen years ago, except with an added weariness that comes when you’re closing in on 60, rather than just having crossed 40.

But I digress…

As the date for the interview approached, I developed significant worry about whether I’d be able to answer questions in a competent way. I requested information about the questions I’d be asked, but only received a very sparse outline a couple days prior to the interview date.

Did I mention they kept changing the date?

When that date arrived, winter returned with a vengeance. Wind gusts up to thirty miles per hour wrecked havoc with my already unruly hair. I showed up to a hotel meeting room shrouded in darkness, with the exception of the all-too-bright lights for the camera. There were no hair and makeup people; just one guy about my age operating the camera and a younger guy sitting off in a corner working on a laptop.

My interviewer was a young woman in the U.K., so I stared at her through a small screen. She asked questions I felt ill-prepared to answer, like what was the town like where the murder took place? Could I describe the procedure for how I was assigned the case? What was it like when the police brought the case in? Could I talk about the Grand Jury process?

In that moment, my brain acted like a giant block of Swiss cheese. Information that once came easily to me was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t help that the interview was scheduled from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. and it was up to me to request a break if I needed some nutritional sustenance. My lips started sticking together (is this on camera?). The questions were blending together and seeming annoyingly repetitive. At one point, my discomfort ramped up to the point where I thought I might pass out.

I remember describing the cycle of domestic violence. How victims often return to their abusers, despite it not being in their best interests. I described how this particular defendant was nothing more than a controlling, lying, abusive _______ (you can fill in the blank). When, after about three hours, I finally got to talk about the trial, I described my cross-examination of the defendant and how I fought to show the jury he was nothing more than a liar, when the defense wanted them to think of him as a victim of his own drug abuse.

And then, it all became just too much.

At the four hour mark, after explaining that the defendant was convicted of two counts of first degree murder and is spending the rest of his life in prison, the chirpy interviewer asked me for my “reflections” on the case.

What????

Dear Reader, that’s when I broke. I had nothing left to give. As my eyes welled up (so embarrassing) I told them I was done. And then I mentioned secondary trauma. They offered resources.

I wanted to tell them that I have all the resources I need. But I was uninterested in prolonging this experience even one more minute, so I wished them well and departed, back into the wind that blew my stupid hair back into my stupid face, causing it to stick to the tears that escaped my stupid eyes as I scolded my stupid self for losing my composure.

It’s amazing how reflecting on my past job awakened such strong emotions. And if I had to narrow it down, I’d say the primary emotion I felt on that day was anger—anger that a person could shoot his sleeping wife in the back of her head and try to stage it as a suicide. And all the anger I harbored towards this guy, his lawyers and the judge—who gave the defense way too much leeway in what they could throw at the jury—came crashing back.

I’m understanding how in the years I prosecuted people who did terrible things, anger fueled me and masked a lot of other feelings that I didn’t want to face. It’s weird to feel those feelings now, and yet I believe it’s ultimately a good thing. After allowing my inner child to cry it out and feel ashamed about losing my composure, I set about building myself back up.

I assured myself that of the four hours they spent with me, maybe five minutes total will be used in the show. It’s not in their best interest to edit my responses in a way that makes me look incompetent. I wasn’t a complete boob, even though I spent the entire drive home believing I was. I said some good things. I was articulate most of the time and was fixating on those moments when I felt unsure of myself.

And even though I wished I could have been less invested in my performance and more able to let go of my need to be perfect, as Popeye would say: I AM WHAT I AM. After all, in the great big world—and even in the much smaller timeline of my own life—those four miserable hours are just a tiny blip.

Just like that miserable but ultimately triumphant prosecution was, eighteen years ago.

BOOK-RELATED NEWS:

Last month, I had an amazing couple of days in La Crosse Wisconsin, where I participated in a book club and signed books at Pearl Street Books. You can see photos on my WEBSITE.

I recently received the published article from an interview I did with D Magazine (located in Dallas/Fort Worth). I thought it turned out really well and you can read it HERE.

This Saturday, March 16th, I’m honored to be among the workshop presenters at the Rosemount Writer’s Festival! I’ll also be signing and selling books, so stop by and say hi!

Finally, thanks so much to all of you who have encouraged me to put out an audiobook version of Crossing Fifty-One! My agent has submitted it to several audiobook publishers, and I’m hopeful one of them will pick it up. Reviews are so helpful for this kind of thing, so if you haven’t yet rated my book, you can do so HERE.

I’m chipping away at the proposal for book #2 about THE biggest case I ever handled and hope to have that finished in the next couple of months.

As always, I’m so very grateful for all the support and kind feedback I get as I continue this great adventure! Wishing you all the best in the coming month.

~ Until next time,

Debbie

BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS:

Nonfiction:

Last month I crossed off a bucket-list item when I visited Disneyland. I’d read this great biography of Walt Disney last summer, and was blown away by his creative mind. He’s controversial, that’s for sure, but his accomplishments cannot be denied. I was inspired!

Fiction:

Not gonna lie: this book is a bit dark. As someone whose current workplace is a most joyous environment, I first thought I might not be able to relate to the thirtysomething protagonist in her dystopian workplace. But the writing grabbed me, pulled me in, and never let go. I believe the ending can be interpreted in different ways, but that’s one reader’s perspective.

Answering Reader Questions!

Welcome to Episode 2 of Answering Reader Questions!

This month’s question came from a book club I attended:

Why did you stay with your first therapist for so long?

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To Thine Own Self Be True

Happy Valentine’s Day to all who celebrate!

I’ll always remember 2018 as the year I had an epiphany about myself. That spring, someone I considered to be a good friend told me—in a most direct manner—that their spouse thought I was “high strung.”

It felt like a gut punch. I mean, “high strung” sounds like an immature child who can’t keep it together. Why my friend felt they needed to share that tidbit with me, I’ll never know. Suffice to say, it was the beginning of the end of that particular friendship.

But I digress…

Some months later, and only a few weeks after my dad passed, I took a guided tour of the fall wildflowers at my local wildlife refuge. It was a beautiful day, and—for just the briefest of moments—I pushed my grief aside to fully partake in the joy of learning new things.

As the tour was winding down back at the parking lot, a woman approached me and told me she just wanted to say hi, because she loved my “fluffy” energy.

Now that was quite unexpected. Flushed with a bit of embarrassment, I joked that surely she was referring to my hair, which, at the time was short and quite fluffy.

Nope, it was my unbridled enthusiasm for the beautiful flowers we saw on our tour that attracted her.

Did you know joy is contagious?

On my way home, I pondered how I could be both high strung and fluffy. One description felt icky, and the other felt positively sweet.

Here’s the epiphany: people’s feelings about me are reflections of them, not me.

Why did it take me until I hit my fifties to realize this? Because I took everything personally. Wait, no, I took everything negative about me personally and struggled to accept compliments. I know I’m not alone here; so many of us are conditioned that way and it’s really a shame.

When I came across the Instagram post depicted above, I knew I’d found my spirit character in Tigger. Tigger’s intense. Super fun. Bouncy. Unsettling, maybe even scary. It just depends on which character is interacting with him. I’ve now read about a theory that all the characters in the Winnie the Pooh stories were based on different personality types. But that’s a deeper dive than I need to take right now.

Valentine’s Day celebrates romantic love. I’ve never been good at romantic love and, at some point in my early forties, I gave up trying. Recently, I posted a comment on another Instagram account that resonated with A LOT of people:

I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating, specifically on a day like today: if we’ve taken the time to practice loving ourselves, that love will also be reflected onto others and come back around in many delightful ways. Romance does not have the corner on the love market.

So give yourself a compliment! A real compliment. And then give one to someone else. It’s an easy way to spread love, especially on a day where many feel left out.

Thanks for reading! See you next month.

~ Debbie

PS: if you’ve been meaning to leave a review for Crossing Fifty-One, you can do so HERE. You’ll also see it’s at a great price if you want to give a gift to a friend or family member! Thanks so much!

February Podcast Recommendation:

I found Nedra Glover Tawwab on Instagram (of course!) and have recommended her newsletter here on Substack. Her advice around boundaries is spot on and so needed by so many of us!

February Book Recommendations:

Nonfiction:

Arthur Brooks, the author of Build the Life You Want: The Art and Science of Getting Happier has been researching happiness and better life models for years. An interesting takeaway from this book is his use of the PANAS (Positive And Negative Affect Schedule) test. I took it and learned that I’m a “mad scientist,” which means I react intensely in both positive and negative ways. In other words, I’m Tigger.

You can take the PANAS test HERE, and find a great interview with Arthur Brooks about using its results HERE.

Fiction:

First published in 1958, The Best of Everything followed the lives of five young women trying to make it in New York City. And each of them defined “make it” differently. Recently reissued, it’s a good reminder of how limited women’s options were back then.

Am I Just Sensitive, or Are You Really a Jerk?

Before I go down this road, let me begin by saying I’ve never been one to tease others, but I’ve been told time and time again that I’m “an easy target.” Or I’m “such a good sport.” To be honest, the latter assessment feels a bit more complimentary than the former; but either way, I seem to find myself on the receiving end of teasing a bit more than I’d like.

Maybe it’s because I’m quite literal and take things seriously. I also really love to laugh, just not usually at someone else’s expense, which is why teasing others doesn’t come naturally for me. Instead, I’m the one who lobs the “softball” for someone else to knock out of the park. Fun, right?

Mostly…

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Answering Readers’ Questions!

I’m excited to offer some bonus content around my book Crossing Fifty-One: Not Quite a Memoir. In interviews and book clubs, I’ve been asked some great questions about how I came to write the book, what my publishing process was and, more personal questions about the themes and topics I explored.

Today, I’m leading off with the most-asked question:

Does your mother know about the book?

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