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Seven Magic Bullets
The Hole in Your Life is a compassionate and practical guide to navigating grief and bereavement, shared from a place of not just professional expertise, but lived personal experiences, making it relatable in a way other books are not. Why was this an important book for you to write?
I get a great deal of satisfaction, even joy, when I can relieve suffering. If you like, you can think of this as selfish: I’ve been cursed with way too much empathy, so, for example, the daily news is a horror show. I cannot avoid it because being informed is necessary for my job as a Professional Grandfather (striving for a tomorrow for today’s youngsters, and a tomorrow worth living in), so if I don’t take precautions, I shed sympathetic tears of blood in response to war, environmental disasters, inhumane treatment of people and the like.
This book sets out how I deal with deep distress of any kind including this second-hand grief, but also the death of my daughter, and what I have taught to lovely people during decades of my counseling psychology practice. And the good thing is that these tools are all science-validated.
All sentient beings are apprentice Buddhas, apprentice Jesuses. So, when I remember (but never when I don’t), I act as if I were already enlightened. The Dalai Lama has said, “My religion is kindness,” and “The aim of enlightenment is to be of service,” so this book is an important step on my chosen journey.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
First, life is too short for the seriousness it deserves. There is no point in being gloomy when writing about sad topics. In fact, fun is one of the “seven magic bullets” that shoot down monsters like depression, chronic anxiety, irrational anger. When you put a good dose of the seven magic bullets into your life, you are a pogo stick: the harder life bounces on you, the higher you rise. You’ll find them described at http://bobswriting.com/psych/firstaid.html
Second, whatever is, is. Acceptance, what in Buddhism is called equanimity, is the most powerful way to deal with any problem. This doesn’t mean condoning evil, but is part of being an effective change agent.
Third, forgiveness (including self-forgiveness), gratitude, and generosity are the most important tools of positive psychology, which is the scientific basis of my work.
Oh… about generosity. I have a long-standing policy: anyone sending me proof of purchase of one of my books, and anyone subscribing to my blog, Bobbing Around, has earned a free (electronic) book.
What was the most challenging part of writing your book, and what was the most rewarding?
I love all my children. That includes the real physical two-legged beings who call me Dad, and also the children of my imagination. On three occasions, these two groups have overlapped, giving me the opportunity to give double love.
My fictionalized autobiography, Ascending Spiral, has my children in it with their genuine personalities, and the events in their lives, but fictionalized names. (How surprising is that?)
Anikó: The stranger who loved me is my biography of a remarkable woman who achieved the impossible and survived the unsurvivable more than once. She is my mother. I visited her in Hungary during her dying days and returned with a huge amount of material. I couldn’t even look at it for two years, then wrote the book, which has won four awards.
The third book is of course The Hole in Your Life: Grief and Bereavement. It uses the story of how I dealt with the death of my daughter, Natalie, so there she is, loved twice over. Is that challenging enough?
And this is also the most rewarding part. Unlike my mother’s biography, this book was almost completed weeks after Natalie’s death, thanks to all I have learned in the past twenty-four years.
What do you hope is one thing readers take away from The Hole in Your Life?
Your wonderful reviewer has pinpointed it. The best way to deal with suffering is through it rather than avoidance. This gives us the opportunity for growing from the experience. Hmm… I should be about 50 ft tall by now. Hold it, that’s not the kind of growth I mean.
Thanks to the handicap of a scientific training, I don’t believe anything but go with the evidence. So far, I’ve spent a brief 82.75 years collecting that evidence, so I won’t list it all here. There is a part-completed draft of a book hiding in my computer about that. But the conclusion is that the purpose of life is spiritual growth. There is no point in change when everything is perfect. Suffering is the spur to growth. It doesn’t feel nice—but ask a teenager about growing pains.
A major loss is awful, but it is also the opportunity for a new start.
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The Hole in Your Life: Grief and Bereavement
Dr. Bob Rich’s The Hole in Your Life is part memoir, part guidebook, and part quiet act of grace. It opens with a deeply personal account of his daughter Natalie’s final months, setting a tone that is both tender and raw. From there, Rich blends professional insight with lived experience, walking readers through grief’s unpredictable terrain. He writes about denial and despair, hope and healing, blending practical techniques, like scheduling grief time and mindfulness, with heartfelt stories from his counseling practice. The book never lectures. It feels like a hand on your shoulder, reminding you that pain is part of being alive, and healing, though never complete, is possible.
I found myself deeply moved by the book’s honesty. Rich doesn’t sugarcoat anything. He talks about loss as something brutal and transforming, a force that tears through you but can, somehow, make you more whole. His writing is simple and kind, with a quiet humor that lightens the heaviness. I liked how he tells real stories, of clients, friends, even himself, without turning them into neat lessons. It’s messy and human. Some parts made me tear up, others made me smile. There’s warmth in his words that feels genuine, like you’re listening to someone who’s been through hell and came back wiser, not just older.
Some sections sometimes read like therapy notes, but then I’d hit a line or story that stopped me cold and made me think about my own losses. Rich’s balance between intellect and compassion is rare. He talks about pain as a teacher, about finding meaning even when nothing makes sense. I felt comforted, not because the book promised easy answers, but because it didn’t try to.
The Hole in Your Life isn’t just for people drowning in grief. It’s for anyone who’s loved deeply and lost something they can’t get back. It’s for the quiet moments when you want to believe life can still hold beauty. I’d recommend it to therapists, caregivers, and anyone sitting in the dark looking for a light that doesn’t blind you with false hope, but steadies you with truth.
Pages: 109 | ASIN : B0FFZVVK6X
The Hope of Heaven
Singing Through Fire shares with readers how your life took an unexpected turn when you developed a chronic illness, leading you to cross paths with a youth pastor facing terminal cancer, and falling in love even though you knew your time together was limited. Why was this an important book for you to write?
Singing Through Fire was important for me to write because I knew God was calling me to share my story to encourage other sufferers. Walking through illness and loss was never the path I would have chosen, but it became a place where God’s presence and grace shone most clearly. Writing the book was an act of obedience, a way to testify to His goodness even in seasons of deep suffering. My hope was simply to be faithful with the story He entrusted me with.
What is one piece of advice someone gave you that changed your perspective on God and faith?
One of the most life-changing truths someone shared with me was that our present suffering, as heavy as it feels, is not the end of the story. Scripture reminds us that the eternal glory awaiting us far outweighs the pain we endure now. That perspective shifted my focus from asking “why me?” to lifting my eyes toward the hope of Heaven. It doesn’t erase the grief, but it gives it meaning and frames it in light of eternity.
What was the most challenging part of writing your memoir, and what was the most rewarding?
The hardest part was returning to memories that were still raw with grief and pain. Writing about them meant reliving them, and at times I wondered if my heart could handle it. But the most rewarding part was seeing how God had been present through it all, and how He wove beauty and love even into suffering. Putting it on paper gave me perspective, gratitude, and a way to honor the people and moments that shaped my story.
What do you hope is one thing readers take away from your story?
I hope readers come away with the assurance that even in the darkest seasons, God has not abandoned them. Life may not unfold as we expect, and suffering may come in ways that feel unbearable, but God is still faithful. If my story encourages someone to hold on to hope and to trust His heart, even when His plan feels hidden, then the book will have done its work.
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Enter Matthew Silverman: a witty, wise, and impossibly joyful youth pastor and professor facing terminal cancer. What begins with a few random encounters soon ignites an extraordinary, God-written love story that neither of them saw coming.
As their unlikely romance unfolds between medical crises, late-night laughter, and unexpected musical performances, Matthew’s unshakable faith challenges everything Lara thinks she knows about God’s goodness—and what it means to walk with Christlike faith, resilience, and joy in the face of overwhelming grief and suffering.
But with time against them, one question looms louder than the rest: What if this gift is only for a moment?
Surprisingly funny and spiritually rich, Singing Through Fire is a modern-day “Job meets Lucille Ball.” It explores what it means to suffer, love, and even laugh and make music while your life is burning down around you. It eloquently gives voice to the aching questions many sufferers quietly carry—then takes readers inside the breathtaking story of two people who found miraculous love and defiant joy amid heartbreaking loss.
It reveals how God can use even our deepest pain to write the most beautiful love stories—even on the cusp of eternity.
Divorced at 50 F**K, Now What?
Lara Portelli’s Divorced at 50 is a raw and heartfelt memoir that begins with a stolen childhood, winds through a troubled marriage, and lands in the fragile yet powerful territory of self-discovery after divorce. She writes with candor about cultural expectations, coercive control, and the painful silence of a life lived for others. Yet, woven through the heartbreak is a strong thread of resilience. The book is both a personal story and a guide, filled with reflections, small lessons, and hard-won hope. At its heart, it is about reclaiming one’s voice after decades of suppression.
I found myself pulled into Lara’s honesty. She does not sugarcoat her experiences, and that makes her words feel alive. At times, I felt angry for her younger self, trapped in a world where duty outweighed love. Other times, I found myself smiling when she described small moments of joy, like driving with the window down or noticing a flower left on her desk. The writing is simple and unpretentious, but it carries a deep emotional weight. It often feels like sitting across from a friend who has decided to tell you the truth, even the parts that hurt. That vulnerability is what makes the book so powerful.
I also admired how she framed her journey not just as an escape, but as a rebuilding. She writes about health, self-worth, and the importance of surrounding yourself with the right people. Her focus on words and mindset gave the book an unexpected layer. Some sections lingered on personal analysis, but in a way, that rhythm mirrored her process of working through years of pain. It felt real, not polished for effect.
By the time I finished, I was left with both sadness for what she endured and hope for what she found. Divorced at 50 F**K, Now What? will resonate most with women who feel stuck, whether in a marriage, a job, or even a set of old beliefs. It’s also for anyone standing on the edge of change, afraid of what comes next. Lara shows that the unknown can be terrifying, yes, but it can also be the beginning of everything you’ve been waiting for.
Pages: 76 | ASIN : B0FLPL17MT
The Daily Reality of Marriage
In Unconverted, you share with readers the surprising journey that resulted from your unexpected marriage to an Episcopal priest. Why was this an important book for you to write?
This was an important book for me to write because, beginning around the time I started going to church every Sunday with my children, I was thunderstruck by the feeling that my life had changed enormously, and in a way that I hadn’t fully anticipated before marriage. I realized that falling in love with a particular person, who was on a particular trajectory, set in motion a whole chain of events that brought me into unfamiliar territory: The Church, really, Any Church. I needed to figure out who I really was: how much I could shift around inside myself to accept some degree of religion, even as a bystander; how much my well-being depended upon my staying the secular person I had always been. Sitting in a pew, time after time, watching my husband up front performing his duties, I became fascinated with both the covenant and the daily reality of marriage – what it asks of us, how it enables us to grow and sometimes to merge with another person, how much room it allows for maintaining individuality.
I appreciated the candid nature with which you told your story. What was the hardest thing for you to write about?
Since this is a book about our marriage, I had to be careful throughout with any scenes depicting my husband’s actions or words; I needed his buy-in, his memories of these particular scenes, for accuracy. It was important to me that, overall, he comes across as the very decent and loving person that he is. And I couldn’t make the mistake of assuming I knew what his feelings were in particular moments, either – only what I observed (unless he wanted me to know). Probably the hardest parts of the book to write were the episodes when I stand apart, in some way, from engaging in the full experience of a church service. Specifically, the section when I remain in the pew at communion time, watching my kids go up for the wine and wafer, feeling a kind of necessary isolation; also Chapter 36 — “At the Consecration,” because that event was so celebratory in nature, with many people looking at me, I knew that my internal anxiety pegged me as someone swimming against the tide. And yet, that feeling was precisely what made the scene worth depicting in a book. It was in my Memoir Incubator class at Grub Street that I got the idea to begin this chapter with a childhood memory of lying in a field, seeing the crows circling; I’m proud of the honesty in this writing.
What is one misconception you believe many people have regarding mixed-faith marriages?
Mixed-faith marriages have become increasingly common over the past 50 years or so, part of the cultural landscape that most of us accept as normal. And yet, people continue to gather data on these unions, trying to discern how much impact this particular kind of difference makes over time, in the life of a couple, especially when it comes to divorce rates. From my perspective, a common misperception that is still prevalent is probably that couples spend a whole lot of time wrangling over matters of faith, trying to come to agreement about their individual beliefs. In the case of my marriage, we had probing conversations on the topic through our courtship, owing to the fact that we each knew we were falling in love and so needed to bring it all out into the open: the fact that he was devoting his life to serving the Church, while I wasn’t even sure what I believed! My willingness to have our children be brought up Episcopalian meant that we didn’t need to disagree about a key element in how they were raised, or what holidays we celebrated, etc. Over time, while we continued to explore our diverging beliefs (many being already in synch) we discovered that the key challenges we faced in maintaining daily harmony had more to do with how we were each “built” – his introversion and need for quiet, my extroversion and need for connection – than any specific doctrines we embraced. How well we managed a long drive to Nova Scotia together, for instance, wasn’t determined by anybody’s faith tradition, or lack thereof.
What is one thing you hope readers take away from your experiences?
As they finish Unconverted, I hope readers will take away a sense of tenderness about what’s involved in living out any long-term commitment between two people, especially one in which a fundamental difference is baked right into the relationship. I also hope that they’ll consider how such a difference can actually enrich a union, rather than threaten it, with each person being able to see and respect and learn from “another way” followed by a beloved without fully adopting that other way. Perhaps many readers will have had some kind of a similar experience – when they’ve felt the need to retain their own true nature, stay loyal to their roots, while also making space for someone else’s next to them – and therefore they will take away encouragement that the effort is worth the challenge. In addition, I hope readers might reflect upon how falling for and staying with another person always takes some degree of courage as well as vulnerability; you are taking a risk, putting yourself on the line, opening yourself up to many potential kinds of changes. So long as you don’t give up a sense of your own integrity, your heart can grow in surprising ways.
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In lyrical prose that is reflective, candid, and warm, this is the story of how an extroverted agnostic remained true to herself through three decades of marriage, three children, and four relocations. As Polly’s husband rose through the ranks to become an Episcopal bishop, she stayed steadfast in her love of literature, sports, nature, and her family, while deepening her understanding of herself, her husband, and marriage itself.
Changing Eyes
Changing Eyes is a raw and wrenching memoir written by Leanne Antaya about her family’s harrowing battle with addiction, particularly her son Trey’s descent into drug use and the long, painful road to his recovery. Spanning decades, the book moves from Leanne’s early romance and marriage to Marco, through raising four children, to navigating the chaos of addiction, near-death experiences, strained relationships, and personal trauma. Told through Leanne’s eyes as a mother, it’s an honest account of love, loss, resilience, and the aching hope that somehow, amid all the wreckage, healing is possible.
This book tore me up and stitched me back together, sometimes in the same chapter. Antaya’s writing isn’t polished in a literary sense, but that’s what makes it work. It’s messy, emotional, and real. She doesn’t whitewash the shame, the guilt, or the unbearable powerlessness that addiction brings into a family. Her style jumps between memories and moments with a kind of breathless honesty, as if she’s spilling it all out before she loses her nerve. There were parts where I had to pause and sit with it, where her pain leapt off the page and made me feel like I was in that hospital room or standing at that phone, dreading the worst.
The book is more like a collection of moments and memories than a tightly woven narrative. But maybe that’s the point. Addiction isn’t tidy. Grief doesn’t follow a three-act structure. What stands out most to me is Leanne’s sheer determination to hold her family together. Her voice carries this sharp mix of exhaustion and fire that made me root for her, even when things kept falling apart. And Trey’s story is both heartbreaking and infuriating, but Antaya never lets you forget that he’s human, even when he’s at his lowest.
I’d recommend Changing Eyes to anyone who wants to understand what addiction does to families, not in theory, but in the day-to-day heartbreak. This is for the parents who are living in quiet fear, for the friends who don’t know what to say, and for anyone who thinks addiction is just a personal failing. It’s not a light read, and it doesn’t offer easy answers. But it’s full of gut-level truth, and in the end, it clings to hope.
Pages: 356 | ASIN : B0B6QDP6C4
Unconverted: Memoir of a Marriage
Polly Ingraham’s Unconverted is a moving, often funny, and beautifully written memoir chronicling her unexpected marriage to an Episcopal priest and the even more surprising journey that followed. The book tells the story of a secular woman navigating life, love, and identity inside the deep tradition of the Episcopal Church, not as a convert, but as a skeptic and sometimes reluctant participant. Through candid reflection, Ingraham explores what it means to love someone whose beliefs are fundamentally different from your own and how a marriage can flourish without shared faith, provided there’s shared respect, curiosity, and deep affection.
Ingraham’s writing is sharp and unpretentious, often funny and achingly honest. She manages to be both thoughtful and down-to-earth as she walks us through moments of discomfort, discovery, and the quiet ache of being the odd one out in a world of ritual and belief. Her prose doesn’t waste words. She brings you in close, never asking for sympathy, only understanding. I especially appreciated her refusal to fake devotion just to fit in. That kind of integrity made me root for her all the way through. Her love for Rob is never in doubt, but she doesn’t sugarcoat the strain of being partnered with someone whose life is woven into a faith you don’t share.
There’s also something deeply comforting about her insistence on staying herself, even when the pressure to change would’ve made it easier. I felt her unease during the high church services, her resistance to the wafer and wine, her side-eye at the church politics, and clunky old houses with drafty corners. It felt real. And yet, what held this book together wasn’t doubt or division, it was tenderness. Her marriage, though often challenged by theological distance, is grounded in mutual admiration and a kind of quiet, dogged love that I found deeply moving. There’s no dramatic conversion here, no tidy resolution, but there is growth. And a kind of grace that doesn’t require belief to feel.
I’d recommend Unconverted to anyone who’s ever felt like a bit of an outsider in their own life or who’s struggled to be true to themselves while loving someone very different. It’s especially poignant for secular readers navigating religious families, marriages, or communities. This book doesn’t offer easy answers, but it offers something better: honesty, humor, and hope that two people can build a beautiful life without having to believe all the same things. That feels pretty miraculous to me.
Pages: 284 | ISBN : 978-1578694006
Winning is Not Always Winning
MATE takes a unique look at marriage through the lens of a chess match in which each phase of the relationship is examined with play-by-play commentary. Why was this an important book for you to write?
This was my first and, probably will be, my only, relationship book. The challenges were many. I had to restrain myself from judging the couple’s actions. Since “the game” happens on a subconscious level, I didn’t want their behaviors to be extreme. The book revels in making the everyday, seemingly insignificant things said and done to be monumental and epochal. Only they don’t know it. Hence, the use of the commentator, who may get a tad overwrought in the interpretation and importance of their actions. Also, I had to purge myself of caring who was the winner in “the game”. The commentator addresses this early on. Winning may be not be really winning. Winning a game may actually be detrimental, but the players will never see why.
How did your idea to use the chess metaphor evolve as you planned and wrote this book?
I started with the Chess scheme. It had been on my mind for many years. The chess/marriage idea seemed natural. “War” might be extreme. You could call it battles. The conflict and friction that I dwell on was probably influenced my reading the work of R. D. Laing in the 1970s. His book Sanity, Madness, and The Family had an impact on me.
What do you find is the most difficult aspect of writing about relationships?
The most difficult part was trying not to forget to include the many aspects and perspectives on their relationship. Each other, the kids, the friends, parents, the in-laws, not mention the other innumerable sources of conflict. Ultimately, it took a long time to write the book because of the nature of the narrative. There were few opportunities to elaborate on the details of their conflicts except for the times the commentator rhapsodized about certain episodes and the games that were summarized and did not advance move by move.
What is one thing you hope readers take away from MATE?
Because MATE took a long time to write, causing me to think too much about different ways to engage the reader. Two examples: One, leave some blank pages after a chapter and have the reader rewrite how he or she would have the chapter on the children or the living arrangements would go. Second, at the end of the novel, leave eight to ten pages and have the readers write the “game” of their own marriage – it would be interesting to compare the woman’s to the man’s version.
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LITERARY TITAN 