Uneasy Truthtelling
The Amazon algorithm says my new book is number one today in Biographies and Memoirs about Women and number two in Death and Dying. This makes me uneasy.
I didn’t want to write this book; now, all these people will know everything about me. Why couldn’t I have written a “how-to” book? That’s more in my comfort zone. Insights and pragmatic advice grounded in evidence-based research. This I know how to do. It would have been helpful to readers, less embarrassing to my sons, and easier to talk about.
My editor, Stuart Horwitz, told me I had to be emotionally honest. No evading or skirting around difficult truths.
I love and hate people who give me frank advice. Stuart always gives frank advice.
“But Stuart, does it have to be written like a literary memoir? Two other editors told me I wasn’t following the formula, and it wouldn’t work.”
“It’s your book,” said Stuart. “You can do anything you want. But you can’t dodge the difficult emotional scenes. You have to be emotionally truthful, or readers won’t connect with it.”
So many of us have watched Brene Brown’s TED talks about courage. “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” she explains. We nod our heads and think, “Well, of course.”
It’s easy to let our intelligence, research, and pragmatic, research-based advice be seen. But when we’re asked to reveal our vulnerability and how we stumbled through an emotional life roller coaster that was more like a haunted house than a hero’s journey? Well, that is intimidating. Keep that mess in the closet, or people may think you are batshit crazy. Or, you might scare the very people you’re trying to help. Even worse.
One day, while procrastinating, I read posts in Facebook support groups for caregivers of people with Parkinson’s, dementia, and Alzheimer's. Oh my. So much suffering and isolation. There are so many questions and such confusion.
“I feel so alone and isolated.”
“I can’t do this anymore. Is there ever an end to it? Or will I die first from trying to care for him?
“Why don’t any doctors or disease associations tell us what happens? The only good help I’m getting is from people in this Facebook community. Where are the truthtellers?”
“We’re here to support you,” I started replying. “You’re not going crazy. Blast “I Will Survive” and dance around your house. This is “normal” for a very tragic disease where there is no certainty from one day to the next.”
The suffering compelled me to finish the book and tell my story honestly. Stuart’s “permission” to write it any way I wanted freed me, and the process seemed lighter.
I sent advanced copies to the disease associations, neurologists, and other “experts.” I asked for a book blurb or whether they might want to include it in their sites' “Recommended Reading” sections. Most never responded. Or wrote back, “We can’t possibly support all those who write books, and we wish you the best with your endeavor.” Traditional media told me they wanted stories more “upbeat.”
Wow. Shut out. Shut down.
Maybe I should chalk up this book endeavor to be a way to process what I went through.
No way. I am a truthteller. Thousands and thousands of people are suffering. I want them to feel seen, give them some hope, distract them with some dark humor, and escape from their hero’s journey for a few hours. (Well, five if you listen to the audiobook with my Boston accent. Sorry.)
I went to caregivers who happen to also be physicians, psychologists, journalists for book blurbs. They were so supportive. They get it.
I went back to Facebook, to peer-to-peer support groups around the country, and to nurses who work in memory care units, and they said, “Yes. Thank you. People need to know what it’s like to be us. We need more help. We need doctors to be honest. Or to learn from us.”
Whatever field you are in, I hope you can find the courage to share your truth, especially your emotional truth. There’s storytelling about what happened. And there is storytelling about what happened emotionally during what happened. Fear, shame, anger, dark humor, anxiety, love, and more. Great stories connect with heads and hearts. Especially hearts.
Lastly, sharing our stories is not about status – endorsements from big names, invitations to be the keynote speaker, bazillions of social media followers, awards, or even Amazon’s nice ratings. They help get the word out, but they are not the end game.
The purpose is to connect emotionally with readers so they may laugh, weep, scream, learn, and find the courage and strength to get through the stories they are living. And maybe someday, they will pass their stories on to those walking the same tough road.
Lois Kelly’s new book is “Slow Loss: A Memoir of Marriage Undone by Disease.” It may or may not be the #1 biography/memoir about women when you read this.