"I want to live in a world in which people read stories about other people who make different choices that are not written as moral lessons but rather as accountings of a life lived."
I read an early copy of this book and can co-sign! I was really moved by how deftly she handles those formative years with her dad. It's not romanticized or sentimental; it's sincere and aching and meaningful.
And then the sections detailing her gradual unpacking of that grief made me really, really question why I was so afraid of words like "romanticized" or "sentimental" in the first place. And made me question how much my own relationship style and work style is connected to losing my dad in a traumatic way when I was a teenager. I sincerely had never thought about it that way before, but the way this book is structured effectively shows (rather than tells) what the long term ripples of grief can look like.
oh Sara I am so sorry. I'm sadly part of the "lost my dad as a teenager" club, too.
It definitely affected my relationships and work style. My husband is 15 years older and I attribute that to me feeling "older" from the trauma (and him seeming "younger" due to his own trauma). I'm super anti-capitalist because I saw the way my dad's employers screwed him over when he was ill (fighting against workers comp, treating him hostile, finding an obscure reason to fire him) and how cold his final employer was when he did die. His health issues and eventual death were an "inconvenience" to the private sector and there was such a lack of humanity. I work in the public sector and don't think I could ever work in the private sector again - unfortunately, my last private sector employer literally fired me while I was in the hospital, which happened to my dad, too.
Sara I'm just so deeply touched by this. Thank you so much for reading my book and for letting it get into you in such a way. Please know what an honor this is for me. I'm so sorry you lost your dad in a traumatic way, and so young. I'll be thinking of you on your own journey through this. Not that there is ever a destination lol but at least we get to make it together.
I love her depiction of high achievement as potentially a trauma response. I’m just now, through therapy, starting to understand my own drive for achievement as a result of trying to control my environment after a life-threatening dog attack when I was 6. My parents thought I was ok as long as I did well in school. Now I’m dealing with the exhaustion of being on a treadmill for 50 years. Laurel’s transformation of perfectionism into meaning inspires me and offers hope.
Oh my goodness. I’m buying this book the minute I finish writing this comment.
I was struck by the first part about learning to write through letters. I never really thought about it, but I had a mild pen pal addiction around age 12 (this would have been around 1979 and I had maybe 70 pen pals). It also coincided with a very lonely time when my parents divorced (something that didn’t seem to occur to them when they hassled me about what we were spending on stamps). But that was a lot of writing and I suppose, storytelling.
I went a lot of years when I didn’t think of myself as being very interesting. I didn’t think I had stories in me. I started playing with writing fiction in my late 20s but I still felt like imposter-ish. The thing that helped me “see” that I had stories was having children (twins, born when I was 33). They
Loved my stories and anecdotes! Nothing was too basic for them: me falling off a treadmill because I was gabbing with the person next to me. The time a bird landed in my head as a kid. It changed everything and allowed me to start sharing more of myself.
I was a lonely kid and then preteen with two pen pals as well. It gave me a place to read about someone else’s experiences and a place to process my own. One of my pen pals and I connected on Facebook!
"You must learn to sound like yourself." This is the most encouraging writing advice I've heard in ages. I've been writing professionally for 20+ years, and I've worried that "my" voice is gone, in the service of the professionally neutral. I love, love, love the idea of finding it again by just.... doing the work.
Mar 9, 2023·edited Mar 9, 2023Liked by Anne Helen Petersen
This struck home for me as well. I write a lot of official things for work and we can't even use a contraction like I just did in this sentence. I would always make sure to say "as" rather than "like" in that same sentence if written for work because it's more correct even though it's less human-sounding. I have a couple of blogs I really got away from writing in very often that I've written in more frequently the past few months and it feels like a form of recovery from the pandemic and being very locked into work mode and thus into my work writing voice. Since I work from home it's not as if I leave the space associated with that formal writing voice and go somewhere else to write in a personal voice.
A few years ago on a Maisie Hill podcast she said something simple like this — It’s okay for someone to be wrong about you. Those words really helped me find my own voice as an emerging writer. Because it’s hard to sound like yourself if you’re constantly worried about how you might sound to everyone else.
Laurel, I'm crying because I think I've finally found someone who maybe understands my life and what I went through...
My dad first became ill when I was 10 and he was 42; against the odds, he lived until I was 19 and he was 52. For half of my life he was "normal" and for half of my life he was ill and declining, and this has defined my entire life. I had the same overachieving coping mechanism until he died, and then I broke.
"I think I probably could have kept going on like this if I’d been lucky enough to avoid further losses. But I wasn’t." Yeppppp. For these past almost 16 years, my life has felt like an pendulum of overachieving and breaking...as well as reading one million self help books in the hopes that one of them will help me transform.
I spent so long ignoring the pain - every time he almost died, it was "at least he's still alive!" and not acknowledging the horrible pain of NINE YEARS of wondering when he would finally die. Then after he died, it was "at least I had another nine years!" instead of acknowledging "you're a teenager and he's dead and this really sucks and almost no one else you know has lost a parent."
But it's defined everything for me, and I mean everything. Okay, now i'm really crying, so I'm going to end it here for now.
I'm super broke right now but will purchase your book when I get the chance.
Send me your address Wren and I'll drop you a copy in the mail. I'm so sorry to hear what you've gone through. Also, as so many of us here know--those words are not really the right ones. But you know what I'm getting at ;)
It sounds like you're on the right path, even if that path feels like one long set of trials. I'm confident you'll find that pendulum rests at some point. I'll be thinking of you.
Paused my reading to pre-order, and then returned to this engaging and beautiful interview, and then re-read it immediately. Laurel is just dropping pearls of wisdom (about identity, grief, writing, relating) so casually and clearly, it takes my breath away! Can't wait to read What Looks Like Bravery, thank you for this interview.
Completely agree that letters are a wonderful way to find a writing voice (or just a voice!). I guess writing would be boring if we had it all figured out...like some robotic exercise. Sounds like a great friendship.
I want to live in a world in which people read stories about other people who make different choices that are not written as moral lessons but rather as accountings of a life lived.: wow wow wow! That is so powerful. And as I'm posting it I can see its been highlighted already!
I definitely need to read this book. When I was pregnant with my now-almost-seven-year-old, my husband's cousin's wife was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Her kids were like five and seven (the confusing part is they were both on the cusp of birthdays). She's still with us and living a pretty full life, but I've been acutely aware of how her kids' lives have been defined by the rhythms of chemo and the bigger question of how long she will be here, like when I see an 11-year-old fretting about her mother not having been well enough to get her chemo.
This book sounds so good, formed through much heartbreak. The idea of needing to understand yourself well enough as you put your life on the page so your readers don’t discover something about you that you didn’t realize about yourself - mmhm. Therapists have a similar motto about you can only take someone as far as you have gone (not life experience wise, more willingness to plumb your own depths). As someone who writes without any formal training, this felt encouraging to me, and I look forward to reading the book!!
This book sounds so good, formed through much heartbreak. The idea of needing to understand yourself well enough as you put your life on the page so your readers don’t discover something about you that you didn’t realize about yourself - mmhm. Therapists have a similar motto about you can only take someone as far as you have gone (not life experience wise, more willingness to plumb your own depths). As someone who writes without any formal training, this felt encouraging to me, and I look forward to reading the book!!
"I want to live in a world in which people read stories about other people who make different choices that are not written as moral lessons but rather as accountings of a life lived."
Just love this. <3
I read an early copy of this book and can co-sign! I was really moved by how deftly she handles those formative years with her dad. It's not romanticized or sentimental; it's sincere and aching and meaningful.
And then the sections detailing her gradual unpacking of that grief made me really, really question why I was so afraid of words like "romanticized" or "sentimental" in the first place. And made me question how much my own relationship style and work style is connected to losing my dad in a traumatic way when I was a teenager. I sincerely had never thought about it that way before, but the way this book is structured effectively shows (rather than tells) what the long term ripples of grief can look like.
Yes!!! This is such a great description.
oh Sara I am so sorry. I'm sadly part of the "lost my dad as a teenager" club, too.
It definitely affected my relationships and work style. My husband is 15 years older and I attribute that to me feeling "older" from the trauma (and him seeming "younger" due to his own trauma). I'm super anti-capitalist because I saw the way my dad's employers screwed him over when he was ill (fighting against workers comp, treating him hostile, finding an obscure reason to fire him) and how cold his final employer was when he did die. His health issues and eventual death were an "inconvenience" to the private sector and there was such a lack of humanity. I work in the public sector and don't think I could ever work in the private sector again - unfortunately, my last private sector employer literally fired me while I was in the hospital, which happened to my dad, too.
Oops I mean Wren ;)
Sara I'm just so deeply touched by this. Thank you so much for reading my book and for letting it get into you in such a way. Please know what an honor this is for me. I'm so sorry you lost your dad in a traumatic way, and so young. I'll be thinking of you on your own journey through this. Not that there is ever a destination lol but at least we get to make it together.
I love her depiction of high achievement as potentially a trauma response. I’m just now, through therapy, starting to understand my own drive for achievement as a result of trying to control my environment after a life-threatening dog attack when I was 6. My parents thought I was ok as long as I did well in school. Now I’m dealing with the exhaustion of being on a treadmill for 50 years. Laurel’s transformation of perfectionism into meaning inspires me and offers hope.
Oh my goodness. I’m buying this book the minute I finish writing this comment.
I was struck by the first part about learning to write through letters. I never really thought about it, but I had a mild pen pal addiction around age 12 (this would have been around 1979 and I had maybe 70 pen pals). It also coincided with a very lonely time when my parents divorced (something that didn’t seem to occur to them when they hassled me about what we were spending on stamps). But that was a lot of writing and I suppose, storytelling.
I went a lot of years when I didn’t think of myself as being very interesting. I didn’t think I had stories in me. I started playing with writing fiction in my late 20s but I still felt like imposter-ish. The thing that helped me “see” that I had stories was having children (twins, born when I was 33). They
Loved my stories and anecdotes! Nothing was too basic for them: me falling off a treadmill because I was gabbing with the person next to me. The time a bird landed in my head as a kid. It changed everything and allowed me to start sharing more of myself.
I was a lonely kid and then preteen with two pen pals as well. It gave me a place to read about someone else’s experiences and a place to process my own. One of my pen pals and I connected on Facebook!
"You must learn to sound like yourself." This is the most encouraging writing advice I've heard in ages. I've been writing professionally for 20+ years, and I've worried that "my" voice is gone, in the service of the professionally neutral. I love, love, love the idea of finding it again by just.... doing the work.
I love how she points out that those of us who have been writing in school/professionally for a long time often lose this, too!
This struck home for me as well. I write a lot of official things for work and we can't even use a contraction like I just did in this sentence. I would always make sure to say "as" rather than "like" in that same sentence if written for work because it's more correct even though it's less human-sounding. I have a couple of blogs I really got away from writing in very often that I've written in more frequently the past few months and it feels like a form of recovery from the pandemic and being very locked into work mode and thus into my work writing voice. Since I work from home it's not as if I leave the space associated with that formal writing voice and go somewhere else to write in a personal voice.
A few years ago on a Maisie Hill podcast she said something simple like this — It’s okay for someone to be wrong about you. Those words really helped me find my own voice as an emerging writer. Because it’s hard to sound like yourself if you’re constantly worried about how you might sound to everyone else.
Laurel, I'm crying because I think I've finally found someone who maybe understands my life and what I went through...
My dad first became ill when I was 10 and he was 42; against the odds, he lived until I was 19 and he was 52. For half of my life he was "normal" and for half of my life he was ill and declining, and this has defined my entire life. I had the same overachieving coping mechanism until he died, and then I broke.
"I think I probably could have kept going on like this if I’d been lucky enough to avoid further losses. But I wasn’t." Yeppppp. For these past almost 16 years, my life has felt like an pendulum of overachieving and breaking...as well as reading one million self help books in the hopes that one of them will help me transform.
I spent so long ignoring the pain - every time he almost died, it was "at least he's still alive!" and not acknowledging the horrible pain of NINE YEARS of wondering when he would finally die. Then after he died, it was "at least I had another nine years!" instead of acknowledging "you're a teenager and he's dead and this really sucks and almost no one else you know has lost a parent."
But it's defined everything for me, and I mean everything. Okay, now i'm really crying, so I'm going to end it here for now.
I'm super broke right now but will purchase your book when I get the chance.
Send me your address Wren and I'll drop you a copy in the mail. I'm so sorry to hear what you've gone through. Also, as so many of us here know--those words are not really the right ones. But you know what I'm getting at ;)
It sounds like you're on the right path, even if that path feels like one long set of trials. I'm confident you'll find that pendulum rests at some point. I'll be thinking of you.
Thank you so, so much, Laurel. <3
Paused my reading to pre-order, and then returned to this engaging and beautiful interview, and then re-read it immediately. Laurel is just dropping pearls of wisdom (about identity, grief, writing, relating) so casually and clearly, it takes my breath away! Can't wait to read What Looks Like Bravery, thank you for this interview.
Prairie librarian!!! Thank you!! You are two of my favorite things ;) and this comment made my day. I so hope you like the book.
Completely agree that letters are a wonderful way to find a writing voice (or just a voice!). I guess writing would be boring if we had it all figured out...like some robotic exercise. Sounds like a great friendship.
I want to live in a world in which people read stories about other people who make different choices that are not written as moral lessons but rather as accountings of a life lived.: wow wow wow! That is so powerful. And as I'm posting it I can see its been highlighted already!
I definitely need to read this book. When I was pregnant with my now-almost-seven-year-old, my husband's cousin's wife was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Her kids were like five and seven (the confusing part is they were both on the cusp of birthdays). She's still with us and living a pretty full life, but I've been acutely aware of how her kids' lives have been defined by the rhythms of chemo and the bigger question of how long she will be here, like when I see an 11-year-old fretting about her mother not having been well enough to get her chemo.
When I think about a parent trying to eke out that extra time with their kids, I often reread this beautiful piece by the late Marjorie Williams. https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/the-halloween-of-my-dreams/2012/10/31/80d281c0-2372-11e2-ac85-e669876c6a24_story.html
The wisdom in this title is knocking me for a loop! Thank you.
MORE MYSTERIES WITH ANIMALS. If Juneau Black can do it, Laurel can.
This book sounds so good, formed through much heartbreak. The idea of needing to understand yourself well enough as you put your life on the page so your readers don’t discover something about you that you didn’t realize about yourself - mmhm. Therapists have a similar motto about you can only take someone as far as you have gone (not life experience wise, more willingness to plumb your own depths). As someone who writes without any formal training, this felt encouraging to me, and I look forward to reading the book!!
This book sounds so good, formed through much heartbreak. The idea of needing to understand yourself well enough as you put your life on the page so your readers don’t discover something about you that you didn’t realize about yourself - mmhm. Therapists have a similar motto about you can only take someone as far as you have gone (not life experience wise, more willingness to plumb your own depths). As someone who writes without any formal training, this felt encouraging to me, and I look forward to reading the book!!