I certainly never set out to write a 500+ page book on women’s reproductive health over 20 years ago. Frankly, I would just as soon sit around eating bon bons and reading People Magazine. Well, OK, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But I felt I really had no choice after the zillionth passionate student in my Fertility Awareness classes in Seattle asked me why this invaluable information wasn’t available throughout the country. Now mind you, this was about five years before my book was published, and, gasp, there was no internet back then. I know.

First on the agenda? Write a proposal. This much I knew. And even though my older brother Lawrence was a famous author, as best as I could tell, his books had nothing to do with women’s indoor plumbing. So I decided I was going to have to tackle the proposal on my own, with no help from him.

So I asked my younger brother Raymond whether he’d consider working with me on the book. So much for my valiant plan of working on the project alone. I knew I needed a skilled researcher and, of all coincidences, he happened to have a master’s in library and information sciences. And let’s be honest . . . his brain was sharper than mine by 10.

He and I spent about six months working on the proposal, a nearly 2-inch thick notebook meticulously filled with color coded dividers and countless sample chapters, illustrations, and of course, the requisite analysis of the market and competition (yawn). It was only after we had already written it that I learned that a book proposal is normally only a few pages. Oops.

A few days before we were going to send the proposal to my literary agent, I decided to ask one of my students who was an editor whether she would consider reviewing it first. After spending about two hours with her going over what my dreams were for the book, she reached for the handle of the door to leave, murmuring under her breath “I can’t wait to read it, Toni. I just hope I’ll hear your voice in these pages, because your classes were so funny and entertaining.” “Oh #%#!” I blurted out. After just about choking, my brother and I glanced at each other with dismay as I asked for it back. Clearly, we had a lot of rewriting to do.