A year ago, Multiples Illuminated was a concept. A dream. An intangible idea that excited two people from opposite ends of the world.
When our first anthology Multiples Illuminated: A Collection of Stories From Parents of Twins, Triplets and More went on sale on Amazon in May of this year, this dream became a reality. When our book landed in our hands, our heads exploded. When we read the wonderful reviews on blogs and Amazon, our hearts expanded. We knew when we created this book that it would be a valuable addition to any multiples family. To have that validated over and over convinced us that we were on the right track.
Today, we have a beautiful book and a thriving community of multiples families.
Editing another book has always been in the works, hence we are thrilled to announce that we are now seeking submissions for our second anthology.
Our second anthology, Multiples Illuminated: Life With Twins and Triplets, the Toddler to Tween Years, will focus on stories and advice to guide parents from the toddler years through to the tween years (ages 2 to 12). We are planning to publish this book in Spring 2017.
Are you a parent of twins, triplets, quadruplets or more? We would love for you to submit a story to us about raising multiples at these ages. We are looking for stories that are honest, heartwarming, heart wrenching, and humorous.
We find that stories recounting personal anecdotes with universally relatable takeaways/ lessons resonate most with readers. Stories that dig deep and reveal truths about what you learned as a parent, and what you love most about being in this special club of raising multiples. Stories that aren’t afraid to show us that it’s not always sunshine and rainbows, but that grace and love shines through the muck. Stories that make us gasp, punch us in the gut, laugh, and nod our heads with “Yes, me too!”
What we’re not looking for are general stories about how you feel about being a parent of multiples, or what went through your head when you found out you were expecting twins/ triplets (we’ve covered the latter in our first book!). Think about one event or incident of life with your twins, triplets or more, when they were at the ages of two to 12. Pinpoint that specific memory, recount what happened (that should be a resolution to the story!), and share the lesson you learned from that (if any).
Here are a few helpful articles on how to write great personal essays:
- How to Write a Personal Essay That Will Dazzle an Editor at The HerStories Project
- Writing a Personal Essay: 8 Mistakes to Avoid at The Write Life
- 7 Tips on How to Write a Dynamic Personal Essay at BlogHer
This is just a guideline; do write from the heart about your unique experience.
Here’s a great example of an essay from our first book, Outplan by Jackie Pick:
A resident crammed into the room to perform a tenth cervical exam, which was free because I got my card punched after the first nine. “You’re already five centimeters,” she paused and made a face. “I just felt a foot.” I assume she meant one of the babies’, but I’m no expert in anatomy. “Yep, you just delivered a foot and ankle. We have to get these babies out. Now.” I was wheeled from the laboring room to the impossibly more crowded operating room, where all multiples were delivered.
It was time for my doctor to arrive, the one who knew my history, my barfing-on-the-table phobia, my babies, and my tendency to make terrible jokes when I’m nervous. However, she’d been called out of town, so her partner, whom I’d never met, snapped on her gloves and stepped in. I introduced myself to her with as much dignity as I could muster while naked and hunching over a nurse so I could receive my epidural in this excruciatingly well-lit space.
Once the epidural hit, I had space in my own body again. I watched, immobilized except for my uncontrollable shakes, as my twins’ medical teams came in. It was standing room only, and soon enough two more little people would join us.
You may be asking yourself, as I was in very colorful language, where my husband was. He was the only person within a four-mile radius not in this reverse-clown car of a room. Like every first-time father, he was off getting a sandwich, having heard from his medically reliable poker buddies that first births can take upwards of seven weeks. A nurse was dispatched to find him.
Finally, my husband was shoved in the room by what I assume was a Japanese subway packer. I asked him if he’d washed his hands. The doctor gave a pity laugh, at which my husband jumped.
“Hi, Charlie,” said the beautiful young doctor, her eyes blazing from behind her mask. Ever the bright one, I asked, “Do you know each other?” I could tell by the way my husband shifted in his shoes that they shared quite a history.
I made a mental note to cross “Have husband’s ex-girlfriend take a gander at my privates while she removes two babies from my bulging midsection” off my bucket list. Visions of a wonky C-section scar that spelled out “he never called me back” flashed before my eyes.
By the time the doctor uttered the words, “You’re going to feel some tugging,” Baby A was out. Who was that squirmy little mole rat they were holding up? They held him up to me for approval, like a bottle wine. “Cute,” I said, not entirely convinced, but he was my mole rat and I loved him.
Baby B followed two minutes later, with no cry. It was the first of a lifetime of worried moments. He was whisked off for oxygen and brought back moments later, pink and confused. I nuzzled my two little mole rats. “Hello,” I said. “Remember it’s your birthday, because some day, 400 people will ask you.”