Read an Excerpt from Rosemary Mild’s new memoir 'IN MY NEXT LIFE I’LL GET IT RIGHT'

Acclaimed novelist Rosemary Mild pulls back the curtain on life, love, loss, and everything in between in her new book, In My Next Life I’ll Get It Right.  In this charming, entertaining, and heartfelt collection, Mild dances to her own captivating tune. With a keen eye, wicked wit, and sparkling delivery, she produces a collection of essays ranging from the hilarious to the serious, from the practical to the irreverent. Clever, pitch-perfect, and polished, Mild’s conversational tales are destined to strike a chord with readers.

Mild writes with candor, compassion, and honesty in a voice that brims with humor and wisdom. Her essays run the gamut from gritty observations on everyday life to laughing at her own wishful thinking tempered with tough reality. In My Next Life I'll Get It Right has it all.

No subject escapes the pen of Rosemary Mild—wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother. Readers will delight in her Hawaii adventures; “Senior Decade”; brief encounters with the famous; medical mishaps; and her rocky road from blind dates to lasting love. Join her as she takes on sailing, skating, Jazzercise, football, marathons, and more—and come along as Mild lays bare a mother’s heart-wrenching loss. A collection that is at once timeless and timely, In My Next Life I’ll Get It Right is utterly irresistible.

Find out more about the book. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rosemary Mild is an award-winning essayist whose work has appeared in the Washington Post, Baltimore Sun, Chess Life, and countless other outlets. When not dreaming up outrageous essay ideas, Rosemary Mild and her husband, Larry, wallow in crimes and clues that include their popular Paco and Molly Mysteries; Dan and Rivka Sherman Mysteries; two Hawaii suspense/thrillers; and three gripping story collections. They have two stories in the 2021 anthology Kissing Frogs and Other Quirky Tales. Rosemary has also authored two memoirs: Love! Laugh! Panic! Life with My Mother; and Miriam's World—and Mine, in memory of the beloved daughter they lost in the terrorist bombing of Pan Am 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. Check out her website. 

How I Jeopardized My Sanity

In affectionate memory of Alex Trebek

The Hilton Hawaiian Village, a resort in the heart of Waikiki, used to be my favorite haunt, with its beachside music, luscious restaurants, and exotic wildlife. But now, every time I set a sandal on its turf, I suffer pangs of regret. 

It’s the Internet’s fault. The Internet makes everything too easy. Click, click and voila! You’ve committed yourself to some reckless venture—like signing yourself up to be a contestant on Jeopardy! An announcement during the show had said the team was coming to Honolulu for three days of testing at the Hilton Hawaiian Village. Larry and I were wintering in Honolulu, so how could I not leap at this chance to join the brainy wannabes? 

Today you can take the test online. Not so in 2006. I would have to bodily appear. I recklessly applied, and the very next day I received a response. “Congratulations! You have been selected for an appointment. Be at the Hilton Hawaiian Village on February 21, 2006, at 11:30 a.m. The test will consist of fifty questions.”

That night I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep. I had only one month to LEARN EVERYTHING. In the morning, I literally ran to the mall four blocks away and bought a 2006 Time Almanac. 

I decided to devote every waking moment to studying. As Larry and I splashed around our condo pool, he offered to drill me on the U.S. capitals. A no brainer, I thought. But I sucked in a mouthful of chlorinated water as I discovered I only knew about half. Topeka, Kansas? Lansing, Michigan? Helena, Montana? Pierre, South Dakota? Salem, Oregon? I was smarter in eighth grade. 

The almanac became an extension of my body. I even took it into the bathroom, one of my favorite reading places. In bed that night, I propped the almanac on my belly, preparing for my first real cram session. Larry laughed. “Think you’ll be finished by morning?” He dropped off to sleep. I didn’t. After memorizing the first twelve U.S. presidents in order, I turned off my light. So much for cramming. 

I woke up at 6:00 a.m. in a panic. Was it Tyler-Polk-Taylor or Taylor-Polk-Tyler? A peek at the almanac—right the first time. Sunday breakfast had always meant a leisurely hour with two newspapers. But not now. I found a story about the world’s most horrendous dictators. “Better memorize those,” Larry said. Oh, sure. Opening the almanac, I spilled guava jelly on the chemical elements. 

In the following weeks, I studied Verdi operas, Super Bowl winners, Irish authors, mixed drinks, and the tallest peak in the Andes. But the day before my appointment I made an ominous discovery. The ocean of facts I absorbed a month ago—the facts that surged into my head like the waves on Sunset Beach—had now receded to some distant swell where the sea turtles live. 

“J” Day. February 21, 11:00 a.m….