It's My Reputation. I'll Ruin It on My Own.
The challenges and sweet inhibitions of personal creative nonfiction.
“And so many women wrote about the most difficult things that had ever happened to them and received not much in return.” — Jia Tolentino, “The Personal-Essay Boom is Over”
Tolentino wrote that hard truth in 2017 for The New Yorker. As a creative writing graduate student working on her capstone project over the past six months with a few published memoir and personal essay pieces under my belt, that quote scared the shit out of me.
Sure, a lot has happened since then like social injustices, #MeToo (and #ChurchToo), political extremism fueled by a businessman-turned-president, and, oh yeah, COVID.
That’s only a smattering; in other words, women have had a lot to write about since 2017.
And I did, too.
Our family moved across the country from Georgia to Washington state to replant a dying church. We knew we were more progressive in some areas than our congregation, but COVID brought those differences to the surface.
We left church leadership, calling it a sabbatical, but we knew organized religion was over for us. Call it “deconstructing.” Call us “exvangelicals.” We still believed, but we indulged in cutting thick cords of obligation.
And it was exhilarating for me to write about taboo topics I avoided for so long.
When you don’t have much holding you down or back, a sheet of paper or a Google Doc becomes a hollow friend willing to let you vomit all your trauma and secrets.
And you get to tweak those chunky, foul-smelling parts and stylize them in quirky, coy, poetic ways that make your narrative addicting, soldering your reader to a powerful mutual connection.
Am currently transitioning off Medium to Substack, and the biggest thing that stands out in the memoir/personal narrative space is the fear many women have about telling their stories. It’s safe to hide in fiction and self-help listicles, but to peel back and examine the scalding of crappy lives or soul-gutteral rediscovery is too daunting and embarrassing.
The loudest worry is: What will they think of me?
As I approached 40 earlier this year, I lost the ability to feel embarrassment, and this was due to writing about:
sexual assault
purity culture, complementarianism, and other ways evangelicalism screwed me up
crappy parenting (mine and my parents)
exploring my sensuality and sexuality
dealing with sexual incompatibility in my marriage
my mental health through it all
With this one life, it’s what I know best. My willingness to tell the stories that reveal how I am a villain and hero makes me more human and emboldened with the written word.
For me, there is no alternative route; I get off on creative nonfiction.
I look forward to sharing my process(ing), uncomfortable writing prompts, difficulties, recorded readings, rejections, forward questions, and delicious successes.
Your interaction is invited because confidence begets confidence, creativity begets creativity, etc. As an enneagram 8 who wrote this with the Succession theme song on repeat, I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m very curious to see who this endeavor here on Substack will attract.
The only question is if Jia’s quote still rings true.
What am I willing to give up to find out?
Love this section: “With this one life, it’s what I know best. My willingness to tell the stories that reveal how I am a villain and hero makes me more human and emboldened with the written word.”
I think what intrigues me most about your writing, the few posts I’ve read thus far, is the rawness and the humanity. And it seems to come from someone who wants to live a more authentic life, however complicated. Look forward to reading more.
Spot on!! 👏🏼