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Today, guest blogger Elizabeth Noble shares a true-life story about three generations of mothers and daughters. Elizabeth's most recent novel is Things I Want My Daughters to Know, and she is also the author of The Reading Group, Alphabet Weekends, and The Friendship Test.

I just got back from Toronto, Canada, the last leg of my book tour, which has been going on and off since February of this year, when my new novel published in the UK. This book tour thing is not as glamorous as it sounds (I'm not sure if it even sounds glamorous). Especially when you leave behind two little girls who've taken advanced classes in guilt-inducement, and a husband who has many wonderful skills and talents that serve him well in life but who can't do braids or multi task at breakfast time... I'm old enough now that hotel mattresses can make or break a day for me, and airports have pretty much lost the exotic allure they once had.

What I do love about the book tour (apart from little bottles in hotel bathrooms and, actually, taking a bath alone and without having to answer questions about long division while I lather) is the book readers you get to talk to. It doesn't really matter if it's a "crowd of three" (okay, it used to, but I've developed the hide of a rhino at this point) or luncheon for 600 (now I'm showing off --- it was the delightful Texas librarians, and I "shared" the bill with Jenna Bush, first daughter, but hey, whatever works!). Writing is a solitary profession (I still miss water cooler conversation and lunch hours), and it is truly wonderful to be amongst people who love books (and if they happen to love YOUR book, your cup runneth over).

Since my first novel, The Reading Group, I have been privileged to be a guest at many, many book clubs. Library ones, which tend to be more serious and focused, school-run mom ones, where the ratio of book chat vs life the universe and recalcitrant husband chat is sometimes a little skewed, mother/daughter book clubs, some of which began when the daughters were teens, and now include granddaughters, book clubs with fellas (these are rare, and the dynamic is completely different, but I've had some great conversations at those)... I love them all. (I still "go" to my own English book group, two years after I moved to New York, over the phone, or via the magic of Skype --- favourite call of the month.)

This new novel is called Things I Want My Daughters to Know, and what has been especially lovely about publicizing it is that book clubs and mothers and daughters have come out together to hear me speak. What was especially lovely about Toronto is that I took my own mum with me. The event was at a liquor store (I know, I was dubious too, but this is the LCBO in Ontario, and they've kitted out a lot of their stores with beautiful event spaces not unlike the set of the Martha Stewart show --- fortunately no one asked me to make a complicated craft thing or a bundt cake while I spoke --- and serve themed cocktails and nibbles that match your subject) and there were lots of mums there with their adult daughters. We had a fabulous time, and I felt I really connected with many of them as we discussed this most complicated and formative relationship that we've all had.

Now, I'd never taken mum with me "on the road" before. She'd heard me on the television and the radio, but she'd never actually been there. She made me a little nervous, frankly, especially given the subject matter. (I think I probably prefaced a lot of the stuff I always say about mums with "this doesn't apply to my mum, of course," but I'm not sure anyone was buying it!) And I wanted to impress her (does that ever stop?!). I couldn't really look at her while I spoke, and she was off stage right, so I didn't see her face.

In the car on the way back to the hotel, we rang New York to make sure all was well. My daughter Ottilie cried because she was tired and she hadn't finished her spelling homework. My daughter Tallulah was flush with excitement, having survived the dress rehearsal for her school play (Honk, a musical of the Ugly Duckling story). My dad came on and asked my mum how I'd been. "She was MAGNIFICENT!" my mum said emphatically, beaming with pride. And so I exhaled.

We flew back Wednesday morning, and got to school just in time to watch Tallulah sashay and jump her way across the stage as 4th froglet from the left (a seminal role). This morning Tallulah's father, who was at Yankee Stadium watching the Yankees lose that night (don't worry --- he'll see the play today), asked Tallulah how the show went. "Don't ask me," she said coquettishly. "Ask Mum." So he did. My answer? "Daddy, she was MAGNIFICENT!"

---Elizabeth Noble