Self-examination via writing, an act of narcissism or necessity? A Behind the Scenes post on serializing an intimate story of a marriage in crisis, the call to personal writing, and what to do when a quest of three decades ends. Plus, a prompt. 🎤
It is a rainy Sunday morning here in Paris. I want to stay in bed but....I can't. So I picked a middle ground and listened to Chapters 4 and 5 and this post on Memoir writing. That way I could close my eyes and have Jennifer read to me. Once again, I was struck by the bravery to write about and expose the failure of a third marriage. After all, we aren't supposed to know at this point where it is all going. Jennifer writes in a way that I think which makes it all the more vulnerable to me and I have thought several times, "we are looking into her mind, her inner dialogue. WOW!" Clearly my words don't suffice.
My journey was one of addiction....to certain foods: sugars and grains (the ingredients in alcohol). Because the world sees food addiction as a weight problem, I lived in a kind of hell never knowing what was wrong with me and unable to find help because people didn't actually know about food addiction. When I finally found the solution via my sister who had the same issue, I didn't like it. And in my arrogance, kept asking whoever is up there, if there wasn't another solution--one I liked better. The answer was No--not for me. And, finally driven to my knees by this insidious disease, I followed directions even though I didn't like it and was sure it wouldn't work for me. And now fifteen years later, I know a kind of freedom that only an addict can know when they release the chains of whatever it is they are addicted to.
I am not in the thick of it but I'm always aware that I am one bite away from going back there. I keep going because I'm not alone. I stay connected with other food addicts like me who understand completely the hell of being in the food and the freedom of not being there. And I had to do a lot of spiritual work that was not easy but turned out to be easier than what I was doing.
I have a huge support network which I'm so grateful for. Too many people, insulted because I can't taste something special they made, ask me "But can't you have one bite?" The answer is No. I can't anymore than an alcoholic can have one little drink to please a host. I have learned that I have a disease, and that it is not a moral issue. That is what I grew up with: Shame that I couldn't do what everyone else seemed to think should be easy for me--if I would just.......
I wrote a book about my food addiction mostly for others who suffer as I did, to say there is genuine hope. We never again have to feel ashamed of having a disease.
That is my journey--which is not over. Living in the solution has opened up worlds for me that I thought were only available to other people. I get to live in Paris, I get to write. I get to finish things. And most important of all, I get to live through uncomfortable, often painful, feelings without abusing myself.
I want to add:: for me sending the book out into the world is nowhere as hard as writing to you guys or Blackbird studio. If it weren’t for Jennifer’s example of vulnerability and trust, I wouldn’t do it here. I have an innate belief that people who come here and want what Jennifer has, want to go deep into these questions that only a commitment to sincere excavation! are people reading this.
Thank you to all of you on these kinds of journeys.
Oh my gosh, Sara…thank you so much. We’ve never met and yet I feel more seen by you—through our work together—than I do by people who stand in a room with me, who’ve “known” me for years.
I’m so proud of you as a writer…your talent…and for your journey. The person who gets the most of this honest work is yourself…you know the world differently. But it’s lonely, too. Head up. You’re a glorious writer and an honest searching soul. I’m honored to work with you (and more to have you reading Summer). ❤️
Thank-you for sharing! I was fascinated to read about your journey with memoir, as I relate very much feeling compelled to dig deeper and deeper to understand myself like an obsession. I too wondered if it’s a narriscistic reflective eye 👁️ but something compels me to continue and I follow this feeling…to understand my life. I am soooo intrigued to hear that voice in you is quiet now. 🤫 so, now what is the journey?
Not that you had done wrong or that something was wrong, but that you were wrong… Just wrong for being alive
What if you were a deviant, a sociopath—criminally minded with a black heart… But all the while, seeing yourself, believing yourself to be one of the good guys… A+ student, honor roll, that nice boy down the block.
Years in prison, I wasn’t one of them. Didn’t fit. Didn’t belong.
10 years later, a careless accident cracks your skull, scrambles your brain and you wake up different….with the haunted memory of who you were….and maybe still are.
What if a sneeze, cough, bump on the head or careless accident brings it all back and you become HIM again?
Boy am I glad that I landed on this page today of all days!
I relate very strongly to your quest to understand what happened and make sense of your life and experiences. I also relate to (what is for me) the primal urge to tell these stories and make sense of them in a way that helps other people make sense of their lives too.
I have been on a journey as a writer, thinker, and (above all) truth seeker as far back as my conscious memories go.
As a child I wrote fiction and that grounded me for through around 8th grade, but it wasn't until I started examining my life, beliefs, and experiences critically through writing that I was able to start the process of overcoming. Like you and like many others, I had a less than ideal childhood and I still struggle very much with the overwhelming sense that I simply cannot relate to my parents on a fundmantal level.
For context, I grew up the deep south enmeshed in the web of fundamentalist christianity. At around 19 or 20, I began deconstructing my "faith" (through writing) and that is when the disconnect between my parents and I began to seem insurmountable because (in my experience) fundamentalism is completely integrated into the adherent's lives. For me, it's not about the religion itself. I'm not here to change anyone's religious beliefs. It's about the fact that in my hometown being "Christian" and voting "Republican" are considered to be synonymous.
Fast forward to today, and I woke up determined to write the script for my podcast and work on the overall design for my substack (as I have attempted to do over the past few days), but I became plagued by self-doubt and fear.
I recongize that it is incredibly ironic that I feel compelled to help people through their fear in the comments when I just admitted that I was paralyzed by it today, but thank you to everyone who made those initial comments because by writing to you, I was writing to myself, and that is the crux of it all for me. I feel incredibly renewed and inspired.
Such a great description of the journey: "I grew up the deep south enmeshed in the web of fundamentalist christianity. At around 19 or 20, I began deconstructing my "faith" (through writing) and that is when the disconnect between my parents and I began to seem insurmountable because (in my experience) fundamentalism is completely integrated into the adherent's lives. .."
Thanks so much for sharing this Jennifer. I am planning to start serializing one of my finished manuscripts. It's memoir, poetry and photography. I also plan to self publish it as well. A lot of health issues keep getting in the way of doing both. And perhaps a little bit of fear...
It is so spooky! There is a kind of terror like..."no one is out there, no one cares." But then, that's replaced with a deeper faith, too, which I'll write more about when I'm a little less "dazed" by this release. I'm kind of freaked right now...😳
Thanks so much for responding Jennifer. I finished this particular manuscript 5 years ago when I had the support (sort of) of my M.A. in Creative Writing program. I am looking forward to reading more about this from you. I feel like I NEED to to this. And I am terrified.
Has anyone ever picked up Writing for Your Life: Discovering the Story of Your Life's Journey?
In it, Metzger writes, "This has been my experience: whenever someone has a determination, has a clear intuition or belief that he is "meant to write" or that she "has something to say," there is substance to it."
I read this for the first time about a year ago, and it rings so true to me and helped me feel so validated, espeically when I was first trying to figure out the form that my writing would take.
You believe you need to do it because you absolutely DO. The fear, and trust me, I know the fear you mentioned intimatiely, is simultaneously your biggest hindrance and the source of your strength. When it comes to my fear about putting myself out there in any capacity (including even making a comment like this somewhere which I NEVER do), I have found that it's crushing if you try to confront all of it at once. Be kind to yourself. When a kid is scared of swimming, we don't throw them in the deep end with not support. Instead, we ease them into it in a myriad of ways. We may introduce the floatie, and even then, we might stay with them and physically support them until they feel confident.
Treat yourself with the same kindness, support, and compassion you would show to a child who is scared of the water and you will slowly begin to loosen the grip of the fear that holds you back.
Thanks so much Payten. I have not read that one, but have read quite a few books on Writing Memoir including "The Art of Memoir," by Mary Karr, and "Writing the Memoir" by Judith Barrington.
I've been in a long rut since 2020, the Pandemic kicked up health issues. and I lost my writing support system. Substack has been very helpful to get me back on track. However, I could use a good supportive workshop of writers interested in workshopping memoir.
Hey fellow three-timer! My third marriage is ending in bankruptcy, fatigue, and regret that I blew off the gym all these years. Well hell--I'll be poor and fat and on my own. Room to breathe. Pass the BlueBell Cookies 'n Cream.
A journey from being a motherless child and an abused child who has forgiven but not forgotten. I’ve been on many journeys looking for my way. Journeys that sometimes come to a dead end. All of them worthy prompts to write about and explore.
What did you feel/do when you came to the end?
Reflect on why I was on that path, how I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t taken it. (Also, a fabulous prompt as it has allowed me to explore through writing the “what ifs” of not ending.) I’ve come to realize through writing my true weaknesses and vulnerabilities. And I’ve learned to accept and embrace them rather than have disappointment and embarrassment for them.
Still in the thick of it. I keep going and honestly feel blessed that I’m still learning from my journeys. My stories develop from my journeys, turned fictional so that I can explore the what ifs. It’s cathartic and exciting to write in this form–it’s like bringing your daydreams to life.
to answer what do others say about my struggle? Sometimes folks don't understand and I've come to accept that. So, honestly, I no longer care what other people think. I am writing for me, and if it helps/touches/entertains someone then that is fabulous. if I don't get published, my work will still be something that I did, that I completed. and I'm really ok with that.
An act of narcissism or necessity? It took me nearly thirty years from the very first ping of need to get my two memoirs into the world. Sure, I didn’t yet take it seriously, owned my own business, was working globally, raising kids, getting divorced and remarried, but as I reflect on that lifetime of time it also took that long to grow developmentally, to begin to write creatively, to construct scenes, to write down to the deepest fears, shame, vulnerability, to process all that it meant, to write 100 times the first and last chapters. Some did think I was obsessed (true); some thought I should “play” more/not work as hard (true), a few best friends understood the need. “Speaking truth to power” was a lifetime in the making. I could speak it until I felt it and thankfully I had a few teachers who asked me the right questions. I’ve had a decade long love/hate (not hate, but what?) relationship with the time I spend creating. But really, what else is there to do with our one precious life? Whether creating marriage, children, literary works, gardens, friendships, a meal, don’t they all spring from our human need to understand ourselves within this time, this body, this crazy life we get to live? ❤️ to you Jennifer for these questions.
Great line: "...it also took that long to grow developmentally, to begin to write creatively, to construct scenes, to write down to the deepest fears, shame, vulnerability, to process all that it meant, to write 100 times the first and last chapters." Wonderful insight making a wonderful writer.
🎤 Your turn:
What long journey have you been on?
What did you feel/do when you came to the end?
Or are you still in the thick of it now? How do you keep going? Why? What do others say to you as you struggle?
I hope you’ll share. I’m listening.
What long journey have you been on?
Still in it. Writing poetry and working on my memoir. A discovery into healing and creating from the things we are told are ugly.
What did you feel/do when you came to the end?
Not at the end. Still writing still finding.
Or are you still in the thick of it now? How do you keep going? Why? What do others say to you as you struggle?
I have no option. Stopping is no option.
Exactly. Keep going. Keep going.
Thank you! And you! I had this realisation earlier why you call your publication that! Brilliant!
You mean Flight School?
Yes!
Right, you've got it. I'm here to put the wind under your wings. : )
Thank you! It’s needed!
Wow, thank you for sharing this.
I relate so strongly to your last line.
I can't not do this either. Stopping is no option for me either.
Please, Writer Pilgrim, don't ever stop.
Thank you!
"I have no option. Stopping is no option."
Too true.
Totally true.
It is a rainy Sunday morning here in Paris. I want to stay in bed but....I can't. So I picked a middle ground and listened to Chapters 4 and 5 and this post on Memoir writing. That way I could close my eyes and have Jennifer read to me. Once again, I was struck by the bravery to write about and expose the failure of a third marriage. After all, we aren't supposed to know at this point where it is all going. Jennifer writes in a way that I think which makes it all the more vulnerable to me and I have thought several times, "we are looking into her mind, her inner dialogue. WOW!" Clearly my words don't suffice.
My journey was one of addiction....to certain foods: sugars and grains (the ingredients in alcohol). Because the world sees food addiction as a weight problem, I lived in a kind of hell never knowing what was wrong with me and unable to find help because people didn't actually know about food addiction. When I finally found the solution via my sister who had the same issue, I didn't like it. And in my arrogance, kept asking whoever is up there, if there wasn't another solution--one I liked better. The answer was No--not for me. And, finally driven to my knees by this insidious disease, I followed directions even though I didn't like it and was sure it wouldn't work for me. And now fifteen years later, I know a kind of freedom that only an addict can know when they release the chains of whatever it is they are addicted to.
I am not in the thick of it but I'm always aware that I am one bite away from going back there. I keep going because I'm not alone. I stay connected with other food addicts like me who understand completely the hell of being in the food and the freedom of not being there. And I had to do a lot of spiritual work that was not easy but turned out to be easier than what I was doing.
I have a huge support network which I'm so grateful for. Too many people, insulted because I can't taste something special they made, ask me "But can't you have one bite?" The answer is No. I can't anymore than an alcoholic can have one little drink to please a host. I have learned that I have a disease, and that it is not a moral issue. That is what I grew up with: Shame that I couldn't do what everyone else seemed to think should be easy for me--if I would just.......
I wrote a book about my food addiction mostly for others who suffer as I did, to say there is genuine hope. We never again have to feel ashamed of having a disease.
That is my journey--which is not over. Living in the solution has opened up worlds for me that I thought were only available to other people. I get to live in Paris, I get to write. I get to finish things. And most important of all, I get to live through uncomfortable, often painful, feelings without abusing myself.
I want to add:: for me sending the book out into the world is nowhere as hard as writing to you guys or Blackbird studio. If it weren’t for Jennifer’s example of vulnerability and trust, I wouldn’t do it here. I have an innate belief that people who come here and want what Jennifer has, want to go deep into these questions that only a commitment to sincere excavation! are people reading this.
Thank you to all of you on these kinds of journeys.
Oh my gosh, Sara…thank you so much. We’ve never met and yet I feel more seen by you—through our work together—than I do by people who stand in a room with me, who’ve “known” me for years.
I’m so proud of you as a writer…your talent…and for your journey. The person who gets the most of this honest work is yourself…you know the world differently. But it’s lonely, too. Head up. You’re a glorious writer and an honest searching soul. I’m honored to work with you (and more to have you reading Summer). ❤️
Thank-you for sharing! I was fascinated to read about your journey with memoir, as I relate very much feeling compelled to dig deeper and deeper to understand myself like an obsession. I too wondered if it’s a narriscistic reflective eye 👁️ but something compels me to continue and I follow this feeling…to understand my life. I am soooo intrigued to hear that voice in you is quiet now. 🤫 so, now what is the journey?
Lol! Answering this question seems to be the answer...the journey of full-on presence, I'm thinking. Thanks for the share. So appreciated.
The Journey, she says.
What if you were born wrong?
Not that you had done wrong or that something was wrong, but that you were wrong… Just wrong for being alive
What if you were a deviant, a sociopath—criminally minded with a black heart… But all the while, seeing yourself, believing yourself to be one of the good guys… A+ student, honor roll, that nice boy down the block.
Years in prison, I wasn’t one of them. Didn’t fit. Didn’t belong.
10 years later, a careless accident cracks your skull, scrambles your brain and you wake up different….with the haunted memory of who you were….and maybe still are.
What if a sneeze, cough, bump on the head or careless accident brings it all back and you become HIM again?
And this is in response to your prompt by the way … lest you panic and call the authorities 😂
Okay, good, I'll put the phone down...📞 😉
Boy am I glad that I landed on this page today of all days!
I relate very strongly to your quest to understand what happened and make sense of your life and experiences. I also relate to (what is for me) the primal urge to tell these stories and make sense of them in a way that helps other people make sense of their lives too.
I have been on a journey as a writer, thinker, and (above all) truth seeker as far back as my conscious memories go.
As a child I wrote fiction and that grounded me for through around 8th grade, but it wasn't until I started examining my life, beliefs, and experiences critically through writing that I was able to start the process of overcoming. Like you and like many others, I had a less than ideal childhood and I still struggle very much with the overwhelming sense that I simply cannot relate to my parents on a fundmantal level.
For context, I grew up the deep south enmeshed in the web of fundamentalist christianity. At around 19 or 20, I began deconstructing my "faith" (through writing) and that is when the disconnect between my parents and I began to seem insurmountable because (in my experience) fundamentalism is completely integrated into the adherent's lives. For me, it's not about the religion itself. I'm not here to change anyone's religious beliefs. It's about the fact that in my hometown being "Christian" and voting "Republican" are considered to be synonymous.
Fast forward to today, and I woke up determined to write the script for my podcast and work on the overall design for my substack (as I have attempted to do over the past few days), but I became plagued by self-doubt and fear.
This is my journey.
I recongize that it is incredibly ironic that I feel compelled to help people through their fear in the comments when I just admitted that I was paralyzed by it today, but thank you to everyone who made those initial comments because by writing to you, I was writing to myself, and that is the crux of it all for me. I feel incredibly renewed and inspired.
Such a great description of the journey: "I grew up the deep south enmeshed in the web of fundamentalist christianity. At around 19 or 20, I began deconstructing my "faith" (through writing) and that is when the disconnect between my parents and I began to seem insurmountable because (in my experience) fundamentalism is completely integrated into the adherent's lives. .."
"What did you feel/do when you came to the end?" I'll let you know. Just kidding. Ambivalence. And not kidding
Thanks so much for sharing this Jennifer. I am planning to start serializing one of my finished manuscripts. It's memoir, poetry and photography. I also plan to self publish it as well. A lot of health issues keep getting in the way of doing both. And perhaps a little bit of fear...
It is so spooky! There is a kind of terror like..."no one is out there, no one cares." But then, that's replaced with a deeper faith, too, which I'll write more about when I'm a little less "dazed" by this release. I'm kind of freaked right now...😳
Thanks so much for responding Jennifer. I finished this particular manuscript 5 years ago when I had the support (sort of) of my M.A. in Creative Writing program. I am looking forward to reading more about this from you. I feel like I NEED to to this. And I am terrified.
Has anyone ever picked up Writing for Your Life: Discovering the Story of Your Life's Journey?
In it, Metzger writes, "This has been my experience: whenever someone has a determination, has a clear intuition or belief that he is "meant to write" or that she "has something to say," there is substance to it."
I read this for the first time about a year ago, and it rings so true to me and helped me feel so validated, espeically when I was first trying to figure out the form that my writing would take.
You believe you need to do it because you absolutely DO. The fear, and trust me, I know the fear you mentioned intimatiely, is simultaneously your biggest hindrance and the source of your strength. When it comes to my fear about putting myself out there in any capacity (including even making a comment like this somewhere which I NEVER do), I have found that it's crushing if you try to confront all of it at once. Be kind to yourself. When a kid is scared of swimming, we don't throw them in the deep end with not support. Instead, we ease them into it in a myriad of ways. We may introduce the floatie, and even then, we might stay with them and physically support them until they feel confident.
Treat yourself with the same kindness, support, and compassion you would show to a child who is scared of the water and you will slowly begin to loosen the grip of the fear that holds you back.
Thanks so much Payten. I have not read that one, but have read quite a few books on Writing Memoir including "The Art of Memoir," by Mary Karr, and "Writing the Memoir" by Judith Barrington.
I've been in a long rut since 2020, the Pandemic kicked up health issues. and I lost my writing support system. Substack has been very helpful to get me back on track. However, I could use a good supportive workshop of writers interested in workshopping memoir.
I'm so happy to see you all building community, too. Well done.
I relate to have to do and terrified too.
Hey fellow three-timer! My third marriage is ending in bankruptcy, fatigue, and regret that I blew off the gym all these years. Well hell--I'll be poor and fat and on my own. Room to breathe. Pass the BlueBell Cookies 'n Cream.
You will love love love The Summer of '72.
What long journey have you been on?
A journey from being a motherless child and an abused child who has forgiven but not forgotten. I’ve been on many journeys looking for my way. Journeys that sometimes come to a dead end. All of them worthy prompts to write about and explore.
What did you feel/do when you came to the end?
Reflect on why I was on that path, how I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t taken it. (Also, a fabulous prompt as it has allowed me to explore through writing the “what ifs” of not ending.) I’ve come to realize through writing my true weaknesses and vulnerabilities. And I’ve learned to accept and embrace them rather than have disappointment and embarrassment for them.
Still in the thick of it. I keep going and honestly feel blessed that I’m still learning from my journeys. My stories develop from my journeys, turned fictional so that I can explore the what ifs. It’s cathartic and exciting to write in this form–it’s like bringing your daydreams to life.
to answer what do others say about my struggle? Sometimes folks don't understand and I've come to accept that. So, honestly, I no longer care what other people think. I am writing for me, and if it helps/touches/entertains someone then that is fabulous. if I don't get published, my work will still be something that I did, that I completed. and I'm really ok with that.
An act of narcissism or necessity? It took me nearly thirty years from the very first ping of need to get my two memoirs into the world. Sure, I didn’t yet take it seriously, owned my own business, was working globally, raising kids, getting divorced and remarried, but as I reflect on that lifetime of time it also took that long to grow developmentally, to begin to write creatively, to construct scenes, to write down to the deepest fears, shame, vulnerability, to process all that it meant, to write 100 times the first and last chapters. Some did think I was obsessed (true); some thought I should “play” more/not work as hard (true), a few best friends understood the need. “Speaking truth to power” was a lifetime in the making. I could speak it until I felt it and thankfully I had a few teachers who asked me the right questions. I’ve had a decade long love/hate (not hate, but what?) relationship with the time I spend creating. But really, what else is there to do with our one precious life? Whether creating marriage, children, literary works, gardens, friendships, a meal, don’t they all spring from our human need to understand ourselves within this time, this body, this crazy life we get to live? ❤️ to you Jennifer for these questions.
Great line: "...it also took that long to grow developmentally, to begin to write creatively, to construct scenes, to write down to the deepest fears, shame, vulnerability, to process all that it meant, to write 100 times the first and last chapters." Wonderful insight making a wonderful writer.