As you may have noticed, you’re getting regular Substack posts from me, which is something I haven’t done in a while. 😀 I experienced a writing moment at the start of summer and made it a point to go with it and write as much as I possibly could. It was exhilarating!

This gave me the idea of a writing season vs. a moment.

A writing “season” means you’re in a stretch of time when writing is a big focus. You’re in a groove, maybe working on a project, maybe just showing up regularly. There’s a rhythm and you know what you’re doing and where you’re headed. It’s what I thought writing should be like.

But I haven’t been in any kind of season for a while. I realized it’s totally okay and that maybe even part of the process to stop writing in order to write.

Subscribe now

I paused my memoir because I felt burnt out. But I also realized my story wasn’t finished. A lot of things happened in my life that told me there was more to come. And since I can’t write about what hasn’t happened yet, I need to wait. Plus, being in school full-time means I have to put my GenX brain power towards studying and learning.

Even though I’m not in a full-on writing season, I’ve noticed I’m still writing in moments. It’s not a structured 15-mins-a-day-routine like I forced myself to do last year. I’m not even writing every day.

A moment just shows up. It’s the spontaneous friend that shows up at your door with her suitcase and says, “Surprise!”

Sometimes it’s ten minutes while you’re waiting in the car. Other times it’s a full hour that opens up in the middle of a busy day. For me, it came in the form of my two-week break from school. Usually, I don’t feel like doing anything that requires the use of my brain, much less write every day. But during this last break, I realized I was having a moment and I really leaned into it. And it felt so satisfying.

After giving myself a break from my memoir, it felt like I was falling behind, or like I had given up. But I’ve realized I don’t need to be in a full season to stay connected to writing. I just needed to pay attention and take the moments when they came.

Share

What I’ve found is that those moments still move things forward. Not always in a linear way, but they add up. A Substack post here. A thought there.

It’s slower, but it’s not wasted time. Perhaps I’m finally leaning into slow writing.

I think a lot of people put pressure on themselves to write consistently or have a “process.” I definitely did. If it works, great! But it’s also okay if your writing life doesn’t look like that right now. Sometimes you’re just trying to get through the day. Sometimes, your brain power and energy are stretched thin.

Right now, I’m trying to be more honest about where I am in life. I’m not working on big projects. I’m not publishing every week. But when the moment strikes and I feel the desire and have the motivation, I write.

If you’re in a similar place, I hope this helps. You don’t have to be in a full-on writing season to keep going. Pay attention to these moments and take what you can.

Let the rest be.

Would love to hear your thoughts. Do you write in seasons or moments? What does your writing routine look like?

Hello Readers,

I had a fantastic time at the Women in Publishing Conference and loved talking about growing a Substack. (I briefly mentioned I would give this talk in my last newsletter—just in case you missed it).

It was a great opportunity to connect with fellow writers and share what I’ve learned from using the platform over the past few years. If you’re new to Memoir Junkie and from WIP, welcome, and thank you so much for subscribing!

Subscribe now

A few of you even reached out and connected with me on LinkedIn and I was genuinely touched by all of your kind words and enthusiasm for Substack.

Right after giving my talk, I realized I didn’t have enough time to answer questions from the attendees, which was such a bummer!

So, I decided to open up today’s Substack to you. If you have any questions about growing your Substack or anything related to content marketing (or anything at all), drop them in the comments—I’d love to continue the conversation.

Leave a comment

For those looking for more insights, here are a few posts that might be helpful in your Substack journey:

📌 Time-saving strategies to create great content on Substack
📌 New subscribers, likes, and a rush of dopamine
📌 I joined Substack 8 months ago—here’s the one thing that helped me grow my email list

Moving ClaireTak.com to Substack

I recently got an email from WordPress alerting me that my yearly subscription of $96 was coming up. I glanced over the email as I did every year, but this time, I thought, I should just move it to Substack and cancel.

I was paying over $100 a year for the hosting and domain of ClaireTak.com. While the decision to cancel was motivated by not wanting to pay the subscription fees, the bigger question was: What purpose did this website have?

I first started ClaireTak.com in 2017 when I quit my full-time job in tech and began freelancing. I filled it with blog posts and writing samples. I also used it to connect with potential clients through a form they could fill out if they needed my consulting services, but over the last few years, it’s turned into a spam attractor of sorts. I get emails asking me to share blog posts or link-build (do people still do that?!).

I mostly kept the site to use as a digital business card, but honestly, why keep paying when I can use Substack for free—and maybe even gain some subscribers along the way?

I wasn’t using it to attract new readers or clients, so it no longer made sense to keep it.

The move was a good reminder to always consider your "why" and to be more intentional with your choices. It also forced me to go through the whole exporting content from WordPress and importing it into Substack shenanigans. (Honestly, it’s pretty easy, I just hate doing stuff like that.)

The process is super simple, but heads up—images and media files don’t always transfer over perfectly. Many of my images and thumbnails didn’t move over to Substack, but for me, this isn’t a big deal. I can go back in and manually add them in later.

So if you’re curious about what it looks like, here it is. I’m calling it Claire’s Portfolio for now. (I can always change the name later.)

The last thing is, if you decide to move your website to Substack, remember to update the places where your website URL lives. For example, do you have business cards printed on your website? Is it on your LinkedIn? Remember to update accordingly.

Leave a comment

Here are some links you may find helpful:

📌 How to move your website to Substack

📌 Doing nothing with your website? Me too. I moved my travel blog to Substack.

What is Women in Publishing?

The Women in Publishing Conference is an annual event where writers and industry professionals share insights on publishing, marketing, and writing.

I’ve attended virtually for the past few years, and this year, I had the chance to give a talk on using Substack to build an audience. It was an amazing experience, and I was so grateful for the opportunity. :)

I also recorded a podcast about Substack with Alexa last year, but oddly, it hasn’t aired yet. I emailed her about it, but since the conference just ended I haven’t heard from her (I’m sure she’s on a break from emails). Hopefully, it’ll air soon and when it does I’ll be sure to share it with you.

If you have any questions or thoughts, drop a comment—I’d love to hear from you.

Share

Hi Friends and howdy to my new subscribers!

Today’s newsletter is about editing. How do you know when to move on? This doesn’t just pertain to writing my memoir. I also struggle with this when writing personal essays or even newsletters for my Substacks.

I share a loose guideline for what has helped me, and from a broader scope, how I view editing, now that I’m on a break from writing my memoir.

I wasn't very concerned with editing when I started writing my memoir a few years ago. I focused on the story and wrote as much as possible. I was like… I. must. write. as. much. as. possible.

I even joined NaNoWriMo a few Novembers ago and banged out 75,000 words. I thought, yeah! I’m on a roll. And I was… until I hit a wall called editing (and structure, but that’s a whole ‘nother beast).

Share

In hindsight, my perception of the memoir-writing process was a bit naive because I figured I could write, edit, hire an editor to help me, and voila, done.

In reality, I was writing, editing, changing everything, getting more confused, which then caused me to write everything out of order because I wasn’t sure how to edit the parts that were already written.

As I continued, I realized that writing a book—specifically a memoir—is complicated and emotional. There’s the part about telling your story authentically, what to leave in and cut, the potential trauma of reliving moments you wanted to forget, and so on.

I thought I knew the story I wanted to tell. However, after joining writing groups and classes to help with structure, I felt like maybe I didn’t know what I wanted to convey. The feedback I received helped me, but also confused and overwhelmed me.

While I learned a lot about structure, the part I wasn’t prepared for was how much editing I had to do. Writing and rewriting the same scenes felt daunting, especially because some parts changed drastically. I began questioning whether certain parts (or maybe the whole thing) were enough for the reader to stay engaged and connected.

So many times, a scene started off one way, and then someone in class would say, “Claire, I think this is what the scene is about.” Then I’d think, “Oh, it is?” And I’d revise the crap out of it.

I’m not saying I changed everything each time I got feedback, because sometimes, suggestions weren’t relevant or helpful. But there were moments when someone’s suggestion changed the way I viewed the piece, which was great.

But honestly, after a while, I started wondering when my scene felt fully complete. I thought, OK, I edited it as best I could. Can I move on? Or are there still holes to fill?

As someone who struggles with this, I’m curious how you deal with this issue.

How do you know when to move forward? What is your editing process?

Leave a comment

After many starts and stops, changing and rewriting my story (and a lot of frustration), and asking my writing teachers and peers, I devised parameters and a loose guide for how I view editing.

This has helped me stay focused and minimize feeling overwhelmed. It’s still difficult to know whether something is done (maybe nothing is ever 100% done?), but having a process for editing has helped me when I feel unsure.

1. Set goals for edits

Depending on where I was for a specific piece, I gave myself small goals for what to check and edit. I started setting a very specific purpose for what I wanted my edits to accomplish.

These are a few examples of edit goals:

• Peer feedback edits/changes

• Tone

• Clarity of what is happening in the scene—does the reader understand what all the characters are doing and saying?

• Order of thoughts and events—is it cohesive, and does it convey what I am trying to say?

• Succinctness and removing sentences or parts that are too wordy

2. Set boundaries

Going back and editing something more than a handful of times feels like I’m inching towards that dreaded endless loop.

So, even though I don’t necessarily keep count if I find myself editing something more than a handful of times and still not sure if I’ve done enough to convey the message and the “why” in the piece, I move on.

Even if I had to go back to it later, giving myself some space from it (I like to say, keep it movin’) was the only way I stayed sane.

This was especially relevant when I had to edit and re-edit the not-so-fun parts of my life that were traumatic and painful. But I also realized how healing it can be to revisit scary memories. I gained clarity and insight that I would’ve never been able to achieve, say, if I just wrote about it in my journal or just talked about it with my therapist.

Buuuut, I have my limits and I’m only human, so started to understand when I felt emotionally depleted—which meant, move on to the next scene.

Subscribe now

3. Recognize diminishing returns

At a certain point, I realized certain edits were only slightly altering the meaning rather than significantly improving it.

I started asking myself if these changes were meaningfully serving my overall story. I spent many writing sessions resulting in “diminishing returns,” where I focused on clever dialogue or vocabulary rather than progress.

As an avid memoir reader, I often reminded myself that my favorite books were written rather plainly, almost like the author was having a conversation with me.

4. Set a timer

I like to set timers when I write. Sometimes, I wrote and edited for 25 minutes or 45 minutes, and there was a long period when I could only muster 15 minutes.

Using a timer gave me a sense of urgency not to get fixated on trying to develop the most divine description for a place or what someone was wearing.

Knowing I was on the clock helped me stay focused on my goal for editing. When the timer went off, it was easier to mentally note how much progress I made and what I spent my time on.

5. Let go

Letting go has kind of become the universal theme of my life. I’ve gotten better at being kinder to myself and improving my inner dialogue, which has helped me as a writer.

Knowing when to stop questioning whether something is done is a balance between refinement and letting go. I remind myself that no amount of editing will make my book just right.

Step away

As writers, we all know that the best kind of editing comes with time and the ability to walk away for a few hours, to sleep on it, or in my case, go on hiatus from writing my book. At first, I felt bad about it. I spent so much time writing and editing and trying to push forward. Not writing felt like I was intentionally failing.

But I’m starting to see this break as another version of editing. Stepping away hasn’t stopped the work—it’s shifted it to the background and allowed my story to reshape itself.

These days, I find myself “editing” in quiet moments—on a walk with my dog, when I’m driving, or listening to another memoir.

Share

Honestly, I’m always a bit surprised when I get new subscribers because I don’t post as often as I used to (or would like to). I have to keep reminding myself that just because I don’t post every single week doesn’t mean people won’t subscribe. 😃

Each time I get a new email alert that says I have a new subscriber, I always read the “About me” blurb that is underneath their (your?) profile photo. I get a kick out of seeing who you are, your interests, and how many other Substacks you subscribe to.

This month, I’ve gotten some comments that my newer readers just started writing or are new to Substack, so I wanted to dedicate today’s newsletter to providing quick tips and helpful links about writing. ‘Cuz we all know… writing can be a beast.

Feel free to comment below if there’s anything specific you’d like me to write about.

Leave a comment

Strategies to help you write consistently on Substack and grow your audience

Some of the newsletters below are what I call “pillar” posts that speak to writing regularly and gaining followers along the way.

Creating sustainable growth (part 1)

Writing consistently without burning out (part 2)

Time-saving strategies to create great content on Substack

What a 15-minutes-a-day writing routine is showing me

What’s your author ecosystem? It might help you gain more subscribers

New subscribers, likes, and comments and the tiny rush of dopamine

I joined Substack 8 months ago. Here’s the one thing that helped me grow my email list

Stories About My Brother

Ahem, I thought I’d take this moment to do a little shameless cross-promotion for my other Substack. Many of you already subscribe to Stories About My Brother (thank you), but if you’re new, SAMB is about my younger brother, who is a decade younger than me. He’s serving a 19-year prison sentence in Central California.

I started SAMB as a way to share his stories (he’s got some crazy ones that any true crime junkie would appreciate), but since I started it a few years ago, it has evolved.

Looking back, the real reason I started SAMB was to work through my feelings about his incarceration—and, I want to point out to the folks who are new to writing—this is why writing is so awesome.

Share

SAMB helped me work out the gooey bits inside of me that were complicated and messy. They’re still there, but I’m less afraid to talk about it, think about it, and write about it.

In writing his stories, I’ve learned how much guilt, anger, and shame I was harboring. It also made me realize how resentful I was towards my parents for raising him the way they did. I guess that’s why they say writing is so healing.

The takeaway here is to keep writing, even when you’re not sure what you’re trying to say or how you feel about it. Keep going because it matters and you may even find some kind of peace along the way.

The links below are some posts from SAMB that helped me work some sh*t out.

Work. Train. Yoga.

My brother’s first letter from prison

Letting go of the last bits of shame

The ticks, the bullying, and a new school

Subscribe to Stories About My Bro

(Side note, and, I’ll probably write about this in a future newsletter, but I don’t recommend starting a second Substack unless you truly have the time and energy. 🫣)

The Creative Shift by Dan Blank

I can’t recall how I stumbled upon Dan’s Substack, but he’s fantastic. I follow him because I love the way he writes about writing.

As someone who has been in marketing for the last 15 years, I can wholeheartedly say Dan’s content has tons of great advice and isn’t jargon-y or filled with platitudes. His newsletters are meaty and packed with so much useful info for new and seasoned writers.

Every time I read them, I’m always reminded that writing is a human process that involves other humans. 🫶

These are my recent favs.

Focus on each person, not an audience

How to get readers to care about your writing

The most important part of your platform as a writer

Subscribe now

Thank you for reading. I’ll leave you with these very personal stories that I’ve posted from my writer friends.

I recently discovered that my very delayed process of writing and getting these newsletters to you has a name—slow writing. As someone who was always concerned about speed (I used to say I’d never be one of those people who took a decade to write their memoir 🤐, and look at me now—I’m on an indefinite break), it kind of made me feel better because I’m constantly thinking about wanting to get more newsletters to you. 

Subscribe now

I want to write more, but I’ve fallen into this slower habit of writing, editing, stepping away to think, and then writing some more. Sometimes it takes me a month to get something in decent shape. Othertimes, I start a draft and don’t know where I’m going with it, so I stop all together and start on a new topic. 

I wish I could produce more newsletters because I have many thoughts, feelings, questions, and discoveries to share with you. 

So, when I saw there was a whole thing called slow writing, I was intrigued. At the moment (and due to my health), my life seems to be moving more leisurely, so slow writing seemed to fit right in.

When I did a little digging about slow writing, I realized it was about being more deliberate, taking time, and valuing quality over speed. That goes against almost everything I had to do in my writing profession because there were always tight deadlines. If I had a dollar for every time someone at work said, “We needed this yesterday…”

Even though I don’t have any looming deadlines, slow writing still took me a while to embrace. Untangling everything I had learned about speed and productivity took some practice and getting used to. 

Leave a comment

Right now, my priority is to create as much balance and harmony in my life as possible. This means I am being more aware of how I feel, my moods, and my energy. I’ve experienced burnout before, but it took me a while to realize it. I often told myself to push through and get it done, even when running on fumes.

Eventually, I had to step back because I was physically so stressed—my eyes were always burning from staring at screens, my shoulders and back ached, and I was constantly yawning. 

I know there are various definitions of slow writing, but for me, it means taking care of my body and releasing the pressure to do more and write faster. 

Slow writing recognizes when it’s time to take a break from writing my memoir to keep jotting down interesting ideas and memories. 

Slow means seeing what my writing community is up to and connecting with them through their newsletters and stories. 

Are you a slow writer? What does slow writing mean to you? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Share

However, I’m learning that working on a book is much more than setting a daily writing habit. There are days when my writing ebbs and flows. These days, it feels like I’m perpetually stuck. The old me would’ve forced myself to power through. Why? Because I’m a fixer. I get it done.

But this time, I want to explore what stopping means, without the guilt and the negative self-talk. This moment speaks to a bigger theme—to be more in tune with myself. I want to improve my ability to recognize signs and signals. In this case, pausing and reflecting on my book.

For months, I struggled with the guilt of not writing every day like I had for the last few years. Even when I wasn't motivated, I forced myself to write. I told myself that taking a break from my book wasn’t an option because, to me, stopping meant quitting. 

Leave a comment

Then, I listened to a podcast about an author who took a decade to write his memoir and specifically noted how often he started and stopped. His book was about his frequently tumultuous and strained relationship with his father. It took ten years to complete because he didn't feel comfortable publishing it until his father passed, but the relationship and his story kept changing. 

I can relate to the writer because, in many ways, my story isn't quite finished. 

So, he took long breaks, working on other creative projects while keeping his memoir on the back burner. It struck me that he didn't subject himself to inner punishments or feel bad about it.

He said, "Stopping is a part of finishing." 

I never thought of it that way. For so long, I thought stopping meant I would lose my mojo and I'd never be able to start again.

After listening to the podcast, I realized the scariest part of pausing was accepting the uncertainty of when I'd finish. I'm learning to recognize when I need to take a break from long-term creative projects like my book. Maybe I'll take a decade to complete my story, too, and for the first time, that's okay.

These were the signs I could no longer ignore.

1. Feeling perpetually stuck

As I worked on my story, I encountered more holes I couldn't figure out. Initially, I took many writing classes and worked closely with a writing coach. The classes and my teacher helped immensely, and I now understand why writers hire editors and coaches to finish their books. 

Whenever I couldn't figure out the why of a particular chapter or scene, my teacher suggested moving on to a different part of the story and then connecting the scenes later with proper transitions.

The more I wrote, however, the more chaotic my structure became. There's only so much a writing teacher can suggest—after all, this is my story.

I wondered, "What is the point of this?" and "Is this even interesting?"

It all felt so overwhelming to the point where I started feeling like being this stuck wasn’t a normal part of the writing process. If I had the money, I would consider writing with a coach to help bring my book to completion, but unfortunately, that’s not an option for me.

I hope this break from my book will give me the time and space to think through the story I want to tell.

Share

2. Losing motivation

I wished motivation was a magic pill I could take or drink in my coffee.

So many times, I sat down to write, not knowing how my story would unfold. On a good day, I'd bang out a 1,000-word scene that surprised and exhilarated me. Getting into a flow state is addicting, and these were the moments that validated the fact that I had to keep going, even when I didn't feel like it.  

But eventually, even my 15-minute-a-day writing routine became a chore, and I caught myself procrastinating when it was time to write. When I got on my laptop, I'd check emails and LinkedIn, wasting precious writing time. 

With all of the mounting procrastinating, I took a step back and thought about how I felt. I sensed some dread, self-doubt, and a haziness that hung over me like a dark cloud. I thought, maybe this is what writer’s block feels like. It wasn’t a good feeling and it started to feel like punishment. (I know, it sounds so dramatic, but it’s true!)

3. Feeling guilty

I'm a child of first-generation immigrants, and I grew up with a lot of guilt. I saw how hard my parents worked at their little convenience store, never taking a day off, not even on Christmas.

As an adult, this guilt trickled down to many parts of my life. For example, when I'm not ultra-productive (and finishing my book!), I feel bad about myself.

Not knowing when I’d finish my book meant I no longer felt productive or in control. But then I remembered—no one is in control. Anything can happen at any time… such is life, no?

Not everything needs a hard and fast deadline, especially when I haven’t figured out the complete story I want to tell.

The core of my memoir—the why… isn’t fully fleshed out. I kept getting stuck because I was too focused on writing about the what. 

Subscribe now

Breaks are a part of editing

Professionally, I’ve written many articles with looming deadlines. I learned to get comfortable with the editing process and take plenty of short breaks between my writing. But these breaks were more like 30-minute walks or working on it the following day.

These brief pauses always seemed to help because I'd see my draft again with fresh eyes—did I explain the main points properly? Were there any holes? 

While this worked for writing shorter pieces, how will this break affect a much longer and more in-depth story? I guess that remains to be seen and you can expect another newsletter when I glean some insights!

When I started writing my book two years ago, I told myself never to lose sight of enjoying the process. And this year, I felt like I wasn’t relishing the journey.

So for now, I’m taking a hiatus but feeling good about it because I see it as a part of the book-writing process that will one day get me to the finish line.

I’d love to hear from you about this topic. Have you started or stopped any projects? Did you end up quitting, or did you finish?

Here are more stories that may interest you…

Hi Friends! Thank you so much for subscribing and supporting my work. Thank you to the new people here too. I don’t say it enough, but your support helps keep me going in moments when I feel like I have time to write.

I love hearing from you too, so please drop me a comment and tell me what’s going on in your world. Currently, mine is very busy. (I hate saying that because everyone is busy.) I got a new job. Daylight saving just started. Seasons are changing. But coming to Substack to write and learn about what other people are doing has become a part of my life now, no matter how much of a whirlwind my day-to-day sometimes feels like.

I wrote this piece for The Author Stack but wanted to share it with you too. I previously wrote a little about this topic in Stories About My Brother, called “Letting go the last bits of shame,” but in rereading that piece, it felt too easy. The day this happened was a lot tougher, which is why I wanted to write about it again and go deeper into what it meant to just get real and be vulnerable.

I hope you enjoy it.

- Claire

The Author Stack

Empower vulnerability with your audience

What does it mean to truly be vulnerable with your audience? For me, it was exposing something shameful on LinkedIn—about my younger brother’s incarceration. That day, I pushed myself to be more open and honest despite my intense fear. I knew I would be judged by my old colleagues, friends, and professional network…

Read more

2 years ago · 18 likes · Claire Tak

What does it mean to truly be vulnerable with your audience? For me, it was exposing something shameful on LinkedIn—about my younger brother’s incarceration.

That day, I pushed myself to be more open and honest despite my intense fear. I knew I would be judged by my old colleagues, friends, and professional network. 

I share this story with you because being vulnerable made me feel seen, supported, and connected. And as a writer, that’s all I hope for when I publish something. 

So as you read my story, think about your own vulnerabilities. What can you open up about in your practice? 

Subscribe now

LinkedIn is a place to show off, isn’t it?

I had always thought of LinkedIn as a place to share about work stuff and show off wins. In my experience, that’s what I saw most people using it for. When I posted about my brother’s incarceration, it wasn’t something I had planned to do. It just sort of happened, and I was faced with a choice. 

What was that choice? Let me explain…

I had just published my first article with a prison advocacy publication, Prison Journalism Project. The piece was about all of the things I didn’t know about prison, like sending him money for canteen (the prison “store”) so he could buy food and toiletries. I wanted to help families who were dealing with a loved one in prison, but also to let others know what it’s like when a family member is locked up.

I thought my story would only be published on Prison Journalism Project’s website, but realized they shared it on LinkedIn and Instagram too. I found out about it through a notification on LinkedIn because I was tagged as the author.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, as promoting an article on social media is a natural part of the posting process. But yet, I felt a surge of emotions hit me and the panic crept up because I had never publicly shared my brother’s incarceration on social media, especially on LinkedIn.

At that moment, I could’ve done nothing and hoped that my LinkedIn network wouldn’t see it. Or, I could’ve reposted and shared, which would be the normal thing to do, right?

But I didn’t want to share because I wanted to protect my brother. What would people think about him?

Shame and guilt

My relationship with my brother was a parental kind, as I am a decade older. After he went to prison, I felt intense guilt that I could’ve done more to help him when he needed me. 

After my brother’s trial, he was sentenced to 19 years for carjacking—the maximum punishment for that crime. (This year marks his sixth year in prison.) His trial left me and my family completely shocked and broken. I didn’t tell anyone about what happened. 

So it’s not like I woke up one day and thought, I’m going to write about my brother’s imprisonment. Rather, it was a slow process and it took a few years for me to reach. It wasn’t until my first visit to him that I felt this intense need to write about his life and what happened. 

Before the visit to prison, I imagined his daily struggles in prison, trying to avoid fights and getting bullied. Much to my detriment, I watched way too many movies about prison, so I thought the worst. I was terrified of how I’d feel, seeing him in his prison uniform for the first time. I dreaded that day so much.

But after I saw him and realized he was doing okay, I felt lighter. My feelings changed from fear and anxiety to curiosity. On the drive home, I told my mom I wanted to write about that day and everything else that happened.

As a writer, I process the world around me through words. I wanted to try and make sense of what happened, and feel less alone and shameful. I started a Substack called

Stories About My Brother, and later, I started writing a monthly column for Prison Journalism Project.

Leave a comment

Let the inner turmoil begin

So, back to that day. There I was at my desk—my laptop opened, staring at the LinkedIn post. On the one hand, my first story was published, and I was thrilled. But on the other, seeing it on LinkedIn made my heart jump. I felt a surge of emotions hit me hard—fear, panic, anxiety. 

I thought about what my brother would think. Would he care that people would know he was incarcerated? The need to protect him from the virtual judgment was strong. 

But then I realized I was more afraid of how people would judge me. I’m supposed to be this experienced writer and marketer who's worked at cool startups in Silicon Valley. Why would I share something so personal?  

I felt ridiculous because I was proud of the story I wrote for PJP and the newsletters I created on Stories About My Brother. I thought about why I started my Substack in the first place. I wanted to create more empathy and understanding. As humans, we all make mistakes. For my brother, those mistakes landed him in prison, but it doesn’t define him. 

I knew there would be naysayers, the ones who would think, why is she writing about this or judge me in all the ways I had feared. But mostly, I hoped my post would resonate with others and feel authentic.

I wrote up a quick summary of my PJP article, explaining my brother’s incarceration and how I felt about it. I included a link to the story and after a very long pause, I posted it. 

Immediately, a voice inside said there was no going back. Your secret is out. But I also felt a release inside me, like a weight had been lifted.

Feeling mentally drained, I closed LinkedIn and didn’t open it again for a few hours. 

When I checked it again, I saw an overwhelming amount of support and kind responses. In the history of everything I’ve shared on LinkedIn. It received the most amount of engagement and generated over 5,000 views in just hours. 

I was floored. I wasn’t expecting this level of engagement and kindness. People liked it, reshared it, and in not so many words, said I was a good sister.

Without sounding too corny, I felt a shared sense of humanity. I felt understood and weirdly, loved. I responded to the comments and thanked everyone for their generous and warmhearted words.

Days later, the positive responses continued to pour in.

This LinkedIn moment caused a ripple effect in other areas of my life, and I pushed myself to be more honest—whether it was writing on my Substack, or connecting with others in real life.

Being vulnerable in this way took years of writing about it in my journal and on Substack, and sharing how I felt in small chunks. Today, I openly talk about my brother’s incarceration because I’ve learned to let go of the shame and fear of judgment from others.

I exposed the parts of my life that were imperfect, shocking, and shameful. And people related to it because it was the truth.

Curious to learn what makes you feel vulnerable or about a time you shared something shameful. Feel free to leave me a comment.

Share

If someone asked me, “How’s your memoir coming along?” I’d say, “Oh, you know. It’s going. But only 15 minutes at a time.”  

I’ve written about this in previous newsletters about feeling overwhelmed and burnt out or wanting to quit writing my memoir. I don’t necessarily feel either one right now, but I can’t seem to write more than 15 minutes at a time. I want to write more, but once the 15 minutes is up, I move on to work or other things I have to get done. Even when I have tons of time in the day, I don’t find myself working on my memoir. 

Subscribe now

This routine tells me several things:

1. Doing it every single day means it’s still important to me. 

2. 15 minutes doesn’t deplete my brain energy and is sustainable.

3. I write without resistance because I know I’m only going to do it for 15 minutes.

But this brief amount of time also tells me maybe I’ve reached a tipping point, and it’s time to change my path. I don’t want to be working on my book for five years, I just don’t. Truth be told, I’m a bit tired of writing about that time in my life that… you know, sucked.

Trying new things

A few months back, I started reading more fiction (see my fav books list), and in doing so, I’m becoming more inspired to write fiction. Because I know my “plate size,” (this burnout newsletter goes more deeply into plates) I’m certain I won’t be able to work on both my memoir and a fiction piece simultaneously. 

For my memoir, I’m still feeling overwhelmed with structuring my story so it’s cohesive and moves forward in an interesting and compelling way. 

Rather than going in circles, I thought, I could use Substack and release one chapter at a time. Maybe a book just isn’t in the cards for me, and honestly, I’m okay with that.

I follow other Substackers who do this, and I’m into it. It’s still a way to get your story out to the world, one chapter at a time.

Is it time to change your goals or direction?

January has come and gone, and I saw all the folks writing about setting goals and New Year’s resolutions. I also saw a lot of content about quitting, and in doing so, moving forward and on to other goals.

I don’t know about you, but every year seems to go by faster, and with each year that passes, the desire and motivation to complete my memoir decreases. 

I thought about my memoir and how I’m getting it done at a snail’s pace. I want to finish my book, but I also don’t want to be so rigid that I can’t pivot or try something else. 

So I ask you to consider, what’s your version of my 15 minutes? 

Is there something you need to let go of or pivot and move on from? 

Maybe you also want to write a book but just can’t sit down to find the time, or perhaps you want to take a dance class but find yourself on the couch at 7 pm instead of at the studio.

What are your actions (or non-actions) telling you?

Perhaps now is the time to question all of it. Maybe it’s time to quit or pivot and create change so you can move in a new direction.

Does this resonate with you? Would love to hear from you in the comments.

Share

Months ago, I wrote a newsletter about writing a personal essay for Writing Class Radio’s podcast and how I perceived the edits from my teachers and the podcast hosts, and Allison Langer. 

Getting my essay finalized took nearly a year of back-and-forth edits (to be fair, there was a “holding period” where nothing happened for months). I was asked to go deeper into the why and how and why again.

Sometimes, I didn’t know my whys, but stepping away to give it more thought always helped. I’d go for a long walk or a yoga class and when I returned to write, I felt a clearer sense of what I wanted to say and why I was focused on that particular example or memory. 

Subscribe now

My brother’s first letter to me

The essay I wrote for the podcast was about my brother's first letter to me from prison. I couldn’t get myself to open the letter because I was still grieving his 19-year sentence. I remember moving through those early days with a kind of heaviness, like I was slowly sinking in guilt and sadness and fear. Seeing that letter made his imprisonment real, and a part of me wasn’t ready for it. 

I hope you’ll listen. 

Slowing down to explore and be more thoughtful

When the edits were finally complete (a moment of sheer triumph for me) Andrea sent me an email with some feedback. She said next time, go slower and truly let the edits sink in. She encouraged me to think more and to step away for longer chunks of time when addressing edits and rewriting. I wondered what she meant because I did step away—my walks and yoga.

But in hindsight, I realized that I plowed through the edits. I hate admitting this, but I tend to feel rushed in my day to day—get my errands done, complete projects, and tick off the “done” box. Call it stress or trying to be productive or living in a digital world, but this is how I operate, even though I don’t like it.

Share

With the essay, I wanted to get the edits done so that I could get it to the finish line. Just like (someday) finishing my book, I wanted timelines for when the essay would be finalized and when the podcast would air.

But after Andrea’s email to me, I wondered how much better my essay would be if I took her advice and stepped away to reflect more. I wondered if taking weeks and months instead of days to make the edits would have made a more positive impact.

Then, I thought about the balance of working through edits when you want to get it finished. When is an essay, a scene, a chapter good enough and when do you stop editing and rewriting? I definitely don’t have the answer to this, but if you have thoughts, I’d love to hear it. 

About Writing Class Radio’s podcast

In case you’re not familiar, Writing Class Radio’s podcast shares personal essays written by writers, authors, moms, professionals… anyone who has a story. The essays are read by the authors and then discussed by Allison and Andrea.

It’s crazy to think that just a year and a half ago, I was binging every single episode to learn more about the art of personal essay writing. From the very first episode, I immediately liked the hosts and thought they were so sharp and witty. 

This year, the podcast sailed past 1 million downloads. A million. 🤯

I’m honored and grateful to share my story and have two amazing teachers that supported me the whole way through. 🙏

Upgrade to paid

This is my experience with submitting an essay to be read on Writing Class Radio’s podcast. It’s about what I learned with each edit and how the lengthy back-and-forth process pushed me to think a little differently, write more succinctly, and share more of my emotions.

I wish I had the podcast to share with you, but long story short, I was asked to work on a different story and told that one I submitted about my brother will eventually be read.  

I joined Writing Class Radio’s First Draft Class, then Second Draft and it gave me the insight and courage to submit a personal essay for their podcast. I subscribed and binged the episodes, so I was already familiar with the format and types of essays they accepted. 

Through the classes, I learned how to tell a clear, emotionally-driven story. I wrote about First Draft in a previous Substack, in case you’re interested.

Subscribe now

My brother’s first letter to me from prison

The essay I submitted was about my brother Isaac and his first letter to me from prison. I was unable to open it. You’d think I would’ve ripped open the letter, eager to know how he was doing, but it was quite the opposite. 

I could barely look at it, let alone open it for at least a month, or maybe longer. Those days were hazy and my heart was heavy. I felt as if I was waiting for something. Perhaps I wanted someone to tell me I was being pranked and just kidding, my brother wasn’t just sentenced to 19 years. 

I remember that day his letter came. It was after a long day at work. I came home and checked the mail and saw his letter in my mailbox. The thin, white envelope was upright. It was the only piece of mail I got that day and looked just as lonely as I felt.

Before I grabbed it, I knew it was from him. I saw the stamp, plus, who else would be sending me snail mail? 

I paused after opening the little metal box, my keys still dangling from the keyhole. I wondered what my mailman thought about me after delivering mail with Kern Valley State Prison stamped on it. I saw him frequently, carrying his huge bag of mail, and we often smiled and waved to each other.

Writing about being in a dark place

From the day Isaac was sentenced, I kept asking why and how. How did this happen and where did his life go so wrong? He came from a loving family with two parents who would’ve done anything for him. Then, I was angry. How could he do this to my parents when all they did was show him love and support? 

I felt like it was all my fault. Maybe if I talked to him more when he was going down the wrong path, he wouldn’t be where he is today. 

But mostly, I couldn’t shake the hopelessness about his new life in prison. 

I didn’t tell any of my friends about what happened because I was ashamed but also, I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Months went by, and I fell into a depression, drowning in my dark thoughts. 

Turning in the essay and my expectations

When I submitted the essay, I thought I had done a decent job of conveying my emotions without explicitly saying things like, “I was sad.”

I hope my writing is a cut above that level now, so I tried my best to explain and show, without telling. However, I still struggle. I know it’s a process and I’m still learning how to improve this part of my writing craft. 

I focused on conveying how I felt in my body. Looking back on those early days when Isaac first went to prison, I felt as if I would stop breathing if I didn’t tell myself to. The anxiety would build until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Around this time, I started going to hot yoga, and that helped a lot. There’s nothing like being drenched in sweat and punishing your body to get into twisty balancing poses.

I became more aware of how I was breathing and took deep breaths to help with the feelings of suffocation. I wanted my lungs to keep expanding until they were as big as balloons. Then, I wanted to let go and feel the release.

What is this about? 

When I got the first few drafts returned to me, let’s just say, their edits didn’t beat around the bush. 😆 It was a slash-fest. But I was pushed to think—what is this story about? If I read this to someone for the first time, what would this person tell me it was about?

Is it about me feeling guilty because of my role in my family? Or is it about wanting to tell myself a better story about my brother’s new reality? Or was it both? 

Getting centered on the story was a huge big part of the editing process. It was like trying to snap a photo and fiddling around with the lens to get it in focus.

Once we figured this out, I was asked to go further into my emotions, with specific examples. What did I mean when I said “My anxiety worsened”? How? Why?  What happened?

With each round, I began to better understand where the holes were and where the reader would want to know more. 

Getting more comfortable with edit mode

This back-and-forth process taught me to appreciate the opportunities to expand as a writer. It took months to get the article finalized and with each round of edits, I saw the story coming into sharper focus. As the story unfolded, I noticed I felt more at ease with the edits, too.

My default mode is to blow through all of the edits in one shot.

But instead of trying to immediately address the comments, I read all of them at once and then gave myself room to think. Most of the time, I couldn’t immediately come up with examples or ways to better articulate how I felt anyway, so I used these moments to step away from my computer. I went for a walk to think. 

Sometimes, good ideas came to me on these walks and sometimes they didn’t. But when I returned to my desk, I did the best I could to resolve the edits. I turned it in and I waited for another round. 

I submitted my story in March, so with all the edits and revisions, it probably took a good three months to finalize. Just like writing my book, it’s all about enjoying the process. And I definitely did.

It’s funny the things you end up learning. Here I thought I was just submitting a personal essay for a podcast, but learned so much about myself…

• When I feel frustrated and why

• To be more patient with editing

• And to allow myself to feel the joy of accomplishment when it was done 

Stay tuned for when the podcast airs!

Share

More stories…

“I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.”—Flannery O’Connor

I listened to a podcast the other day about an author who wrote over 30 books. (I wish I could remember which podcast it was, but I deleted it after listening. 😒)

The conversation was about the author’s ability to write so many books because writing comes so naturally to her. It’s the tool she turns to when she feels disruption in her life, in moments of joy, and everything in between. She writes to make sense of her thoughts and turn them into meaning or purpose. 

Subscribe now

The first manuscript I wrote

I thought about the first manuscript I wrote and realized I did what this author did. I wrote about my failed marriage, all of the places I traveled to (as a means of escaping my problems—spoiler, it didn’t work), and about my brother going to prison.

It made my heart spill open all over again. There were days when all I could write was a measly paragraph or nothing at all. 

But I somehow kept going and tried to make sense of all of it—because that’s what you do when you’re writing a memoir. I kept thinking about the reader who would someday pick up my book. (Hopefully, it will be many readers.) 

I had to search for the meaning in each scene, and I pushed myself to think and reflect beyond what I thought it meant. (Thank you, writing classes!)

Writing to uncover a better story 

At first, I kept thinking about all the time and energy I had “wasted” on writing. But the new story that emerged felt a lot more thought-out and more introspective. 

In writing about the parts of my life I hated thinking about and analyzing, I learned it wasn’t that scary because I confronted it through writing. 

None of this really came together for me until I listened to that podcast. 

Journaling to decode my feelings

I first started journaling six years ago, and even then, I didn’t notice any real benefits for at least a few years. The only reason why I kept journaling every single day was because I was so depressed. 

I kept thinking my life was shit and I wasn’t worthy because I didn’t check the boxes of a successful marriage, kids, a career. I was lonely and ashamed. I wrote in my journal because I was too afraid and embarrassed to tell anyone how I was really feeling. I went through therapy, but it didn’t really help. 

A few years into journaling daily, it struck me that when I write things down, I remember them. Like the time I dealt with an office bully. She’d cut me off during team meetings, questioning my opinions and strategy. 

I wrote about it and over time, found comfort in writing down alternate stories about what happened. Maybe the bully was rude to me in the meeting because she was having a shitty day. Maybe she felt threatened by me. Maybe she needs to be the smartest person in the room and it has nothing to do with me. After jotting it down, I learned to let it go because I hated wasting time and energy thinking about it.   

I started to notice journaling made me more observant, and more mindful of my thoughts and reactions. But for some reason, I siloed the art of journaling and writing a manuscript. Now, I see the benefits that come from both, and that writing down your thoughts and feelings (no matter if it’s just for you or for an audience) is cathartic.

Writing has taught me to be nicer to myself

My first manuscript forced me to return to painful memories. I realized I was so hard on myself back then. So I learned to be nicer to myself today. 

I use writing as a way to think about how I feel about myself and others. I ask myself a lot of questions, “Did it really happen like that? What else am I missing? Why am I thinking or reacting this way?” 

I write and I think, and if I can create meaning around that particular situation, I take it with me as a lesson. If I can’t, well, at least I can be more mindful about it the next time. 

For me, writing is the best and cheapest form of therapy, but it was definitely an evolution to get to this point.

How about you? Do you use writing to decode your feelings?

Share

More stories…

Alyssa Jarrett and I met at a tech conference many years ago in San Francisco. She and I have very similar professional backgrounds in marketing and content within the tech space. 

We had an incredibly insightful podcast conversation about her experience with a book coach. (Technically, her coach is an editor but also does coaching. To lessen the confusion, I’ll call it coaching.) Alyssa is a wealth of information and my chat with her totally inspired me to get my manuscript in a better place. 

Subscribe now

If you’ve ever wanted to hire a book coach, you won’t want to miss our conversation. We talked about:

• Finding a legit book coach

• How a coach helps with developmental issues 

• How is a coach different than an accountability partner from your writing group?

• Is it crazy expensive to hire a coach and are the costs worth it?  

Listen to the podcast to learn about how Alyssa’s coach helped her push through negative self-talk and get her books ready for publishing.

A year ago, I thought I needed a book coach. I was nowhere near getting my book done so I just wanted a professional to guide me through the structure and just help me understand everything. I was like, just give me the answers. 

I did a fair amount of research and even paid $25 to get matched with a coach on Author Accelerator. I met three different coaches on Zoom and began to understand their packages and what they offer.

From helping with edits to providing a writing routine and accountability program, the coaches I spoke with charged a monthly subscription fee. The average cost was about $500 a month and out of my budget, so I decided to hold off and instead, enrolled in a few memoir classes.

Finding a community of writers and maybe a few accountability partners felt like the right move for me. I stopped thinking about book coaches until I had the opportunity to catch up with Alyssa. 

Alyssa’s backstory: Why she needed a coach

I caught up with Alyssa on Zoom and was so impressed by everything she had accomplished since we last met. She quit her tech job to consult (she helps companies with their content marketing needs) and completed four books. Holy hell. Her romcoms are inspired by her time in tech and her love of romance.

Alyssa has experienced the highs and lows of the querying process and during our conversation, I truly felt her energy and drive to land an agent and get her books published! I admit I also felt envious of how far along she was in the process. 🫣

But before working with a coach, she hit a wall. At this point, she was self-editing and knew something was missing from her stories but didn’t know what it was. That’s when she decided to look for a coach. 

How to find a reputable coach

When Alyssa searched for a coach, she was wary of scams or skeptical of coaches/editors who weren’t as qualified as they claimed to be. Rather than using sites like Upwork or Fiverr, she used the Editorial Freelancers Association.

It’s not to say you wouldn’t be able to find a qualified coach on either platform, but Alyssa wanted a business partner who understood her goals and vision for a career in book writing. 

Eventually, she ended up working with Kristen Tate at The Blue Garret. Kristen holds a Ph.D. in English and is the founder of the San Francisco chapter of the EFA, so to Alyssa, there was no doubt that she was legit. 

Alyssa worked with Kristen, who helped her with the following:

• Developmental edit. This is big-picture feedback stuff and addresses things like plot holes, pacing, and does your story make sense. Alyssa noted this was the most expensive of all the edits. 

• Copy edit. Line-by-line stuff that goes over sentence structure, repetition, and in Alyssa’s case, the overuse of adverbs. (For me, it’s adjectives.)

• Proofreading. This tackles spelling and grammatical errors. 

How is a book coach different than an accountability partner?

In my hunt for a book coach last year, I spoke with a woman who said her main goal was to keep her writers accountable. I couldn’t help but wonder how this was different than a writing partner. I should have probably asked but I didn’t because… in a weird way I thought the question would be offensive.

I asked Alyssa, and her response totally made sense—a coach understands your needs and is invested in you. A coach would be able to help you reach important decisions within your story and career, such as: 

• What do you want your future to look like? 

• What does your author brand look like? 

A writing partner just isn’t qualified to take on this kind of responsibility. They’re likely grappling with the same issues as you!

How much does a coach cost? 

For packages and developmental edits, Alyssa paid $3,000. This helped her prepare her manuscript to be submitted to literary agents. 

I was surprised to learn she doesn’t pay a subscription fee with Kristen. She pays per hour. This is because, over time, Alyssa has learned a thing or two while working with Kristen and now, doesn't require such intense edits.

I love that Alyssa was open about how much she paid for a coach. (Read her blog post about The Best Money I’ve Spent on My Writing (So Far))

Over the last three years, Alyssa tracked her spending for editing her manuscripts.

Jump to ~ 19:52 of the podcast to get the details and Alyssa’s mindset when it comes to these costs.

The coach-y stuff

Today, Alyssa taps into Kristen’s coaching services (rather than using her editing services) at an hourly rate. This includes:

• Coaching calls

• Working in a joint Trello board

• Check-ins for things like word count

Alyssa believes coaching has served her both professionally and personally, building her self-esteem and her mindset as a writer. It makes me feel like every writer who is working on a book needs a coach. I definitely want a Kristen on my side…

Do you work with a coach or have you ever worked with one? Would love to hear about your experience. 

Learn more about Alyssa:

• alyssajarrett.com/newsletter

• @alyjarrett

Share

Read more about improving as a writer…

Since this past January, I’ve been in Second Draft writing group, which is offered by Writing Class Radio. I was curious to see how Second Draft compared to First Draft.

Second Draft is more intimate and more expensive. Eager to find out how Second Class would impact my writing for the better, I started noticing a common theme.

As the months rolled by, I began to understand the thing that was clearly helping me—listening. Yep, that’s it. Such a simple thing has profoundly changed the way I think and write.

In today’s newsletter, I’ll convey how listening to what others write and talk about in First Draft and Second Draft has improved my own writing.  

Second Draft vs. First Draft

Second Draft is more intimate than First Draft. There are only six people in the group and they don’t allow more than that. If you want to join and the group is full, you have to wait until the start of the next enrollment period, which is based on a three-month-ish time frame.

First Draft usually has 15-ish or more people and it’s an open group, meaning, you can join at any time, no matter the month.

Second Draft is a longer class (~ 1.5 hours) and more in-depth in terms of getting feedback on your personal essays. Unlike First Draft (1 hour), you must come to class prepared with an essay you want to read (when it’s your turn). 

Why I joined First Draft

When I first started searching for a writing group, I was overwhelmed. There are tons out there. There are groups that meet on Zoom and just write—no talking or feedback. There are other groups that write about a prompt in real time and then read and give feedback. I knew I wanted more of the latter.

Then one day when I was listening to Writing Class Radio’s podcast, I heard Allison (the host) talking about First Draft. I was intrigued. So I went on their website and joined since the first class is free. 

Once or twice a week (there are two different days offered), we gathered on Zoom to write and then share. 

I didn’t realize it, but listening is such a huge part of writing. In First and Second Draft, I listened to how other writers structured their essays. I picked up on things like engaging dialogue, immaculate prose, and meaning. Then, I listened some more as other writers gave feedback.

At first, I was intimidated, mostly because I was new and wasn’t familiar with what was going on. But as the weeks went on, I got more comfortable and started giving feedback as I listened for what I liked or didn’t, and why.

With Second Draft, I realized I was getting a deeper listening experience. The class is longer and you can really get into discussions that spawn from the stories that are read in class.

I was training my brain to alway ask, “What is this story about?” 

Share

Why I joined Second Draft

After being a First Draft member for several months, Andrea (the host) emailed me to let me know a spot was open in Second Draft. 

I knew it was more expensive at ~ $150 a month (vs. $35 a month for First Draft), but for me, it’s all about value. I was already getting a ton of benefits from First Draft, so a smaller setting appealed to me. 

How Second Draft works

Three people are chosen to read in each class. Each person (called “the narrator”) gets about 20 minutes to read their piece and for feedback, so it’s a good amount of time to read and receive feedback. 

Sometimes, mini-debates unfurl—why people thought certain parts worked or didn’t. I am fascinated by these discussions and how so many opinions force me to think in a different way. It gets me out of my own head.

I think of it like baking banana bread. I know my recipe is pretty damn good, but then I hear about John’s method of tweaking the temperature or how Mary uses a 1/2 cup of boxed cake mix, and my baker’s mind is blown. 

I started getting better at listening for things like:

• What is this story about? Does the story stick to that one concept? Or is it really two essays in one? 

• Were there parts that confused me? Why? 

• Meaning and what resonates with the audience. Is there something relatable and universal in the piece? 

How this group helps me with my memoir

When it’s my turn to read, I sometimes share scenes from my memoir or drafts of certain Substack posts. I like having a trusted circle of amazing writers I can share my work with. Everyone is direct. I know it can be hard to hear criticism, but because I’ve been writing for most of my career, I’ve grown thick skin. 

I want my writing to get better, so I lean into the punches. My classmates aren’t afraid to say, “Cut this,” or “That added nothing to the overall story because…” 

It’s not all bad of course. It’s a lovely dance of praise and criticism. 

When I sat down and worked out scenes in my memoir, I could almost hear my classmates. “What are you trying to say in this part? Do you need to ramble on about that?”

These thoughts consumed me each time I’d write to the point where I took a huge step back on the first manuscript I had written. I kept wondering, would my memoir resonate with my writing group and a bigger audience, in general?

My gut told me it would not. So I changed the direction of my memoir. 🫣

All of these things are helping me to write better scenes in my memoir and remove all the parts that readers won’t be interested in. This isn’t easy when you’re writing about your life and seeing it through your lens. Second Draft helps with this so much.

Getting your personal essay published

Second Draft is geared towards writers who want to get published in a top-tier publication. It’s so inspiring when it happens to the hosts—they both had recent wins in The Washington Post and Huffington Post. Sometimes my classmates also get their stuff published too. 

I’d love to get a personal essay published somewhere. To me, it would be a huge accomplishment and help give me that “writer street cred,” since I have yet to publish my book. 

I’m learning more about what it takes to get your stuff accepted in a top-tier publication, including:

• What to write in a pitch letter (in a way, this is helping me understand what to write when I need to come up with a pitch letter for the publication of my book).

• Which publications accept what kind of essays—Andrea and my classmates often have suggestions for where essays would be a great fit for submission.

• Getting the inside scoop on which editors to email. (This is when Andrea receives a specific request from an editor or sees something on Twitter, for example.)

Share

Writing groups help with motivation

Most days, I have no problems working on my memoir. I write in the wee hours of the morning at my desk— a mug of coffee on my left and a scented candle on my right (I have a weakness for those three-wick candles from Bath & Body Works). 

But sometimes, I get stuck on the structure or why a particular scene should or shouldn’t be included. This is when I start to procrastinate or feel myself deflating.

Sidenote—when I feel this happening, I don’t force it anymore. Instead of harping on what isn’t working, I switch gears and do something else, like start on my next piece for Second Draft, my Substack, or I go on a walk. Or when it’s Tuesday, I jump into First Draft and write to a random prompt. It forces me to think about something that is not my memoir.

When I write about something else and then return to my memoir, I feel refreshed. Sometimes, this helps spark new ideas. (I sort of wrote about this idea in why we should write more uselessly.)

If you’re struggling to keep your motivation going or want to hone your craft through the power of listening in a writing group, come on by—the first class is free. Just email Allison or Andrea: info@writingclassradio.com.

Also, the people in First and Second Draft are just… cool. I could probably have coffee or hang with anyone in the group. It’s a great community of mostly women. I look forward to seeing everyone’s smiley faces each week.

One last note, the hosts didn’t pay me or ask me to write this review. I find tremendous value in these groups and it’s one of the major ways I can tell I’m getting better at writing.

If you write, I’d love to know what’s helping you. Feel free to comment below.

As a writer and someday author, I prioritize community. This, and continued learning of my craft are two things I knew I needed in order to succeed. Surround yourself with successful people and you will succeed. Or something like that. Tim Ferriss wrote an entire book about this called “Tribe Of Mentors.” 

With my Writing Class Radio groups, classes, and current memoir class from Brooke Warner, I was able to meet an awesome group of really talented writers.

But I had yet to attend my first conference, because dangit, writing conferences are so expensive. I wanted to attend the one in Kauai last November and the one in Mexico City in February, but with the cost of flights and hotels, I was priced out. 

So when I heard about Women in Publishing from my teacher Brooke, I decided to go for it. At $147 for four days plus opportunities to network, it was practically free. 

What I liked

Each day was filled with sessions around topics like hybrid vs. traditional publishing, how to start a podcast, marketing your book, and what to expect when working with an editor. In between, there were coffee breaks and opportunities to connect with other attendees. 

When these coffee chat rooms were larger than three or four people, it sometimes became too difficult to talk or jump into a conversation. A bunch of women on Zoom—trust me, there were barely moments where I could get a word in edgewise, much less unmute myself to say hello. I also had my share of moments when the room was completely silent. But hey… it’s Zoom… there’s no perfect scenario.

During these chats, sometimes an author would say the name of their book, and another person would suddenly pull out the book from their bookcase! I enjoyed learning about what people were working on and was impressed by the mix of genres from fantasy to how-tos, and children’s books.

Something else I liked about the conference that I wasn’t expecting was the sponsored sessions. They gave me a better understanding of how certain publishing tools work, like the Ingram Spark Self-Publishing platform.

I think it’s important to at least know what these platforms can do so I can better prepare myself before publishing creeps ups on me.  

It dawned on me that not everyone understands marketing

The great thing about virtual conferences is the ability to hop in and out of sessions. I realized the plethora of marketing sessions was very basic, at least for me. My background is in marketing, so after dipping in and out of a few, I realized they were not for me. 

But I could see how they would be useful for those who are overwhelmed or lost when it comes to social media and growing a following. These days, even if you get published traditionally, authors are still expected to do their part in promoting their books. 

If anything, I got to see what these marketing sessions were about and it gave me ideas for what to write about on my Substack. Maybe I can dedicate a few newsletters to marketing. 🤔 If you think about it, this Substack is my marketing for my memoir. 

My favorite part of the conference: Slushpile

I learned a new term in publishing—slushpile. This is where manuscripts go to die. An editor or intern reads it, and if it doesn’t make the cut, it goes into the slushpile. 

On the final day of the conference, we had the Slushpile Session. This is where a handful of the first pages of a manuscript (submitted by attendees) were plucked and read by the WIP organizer. Then, they were critiqued by editors and publishers. Imagine a bunch of female Simon Cowells ready to pounce with sharp feedback.

I was so looking forward to this! It was a chance for me to absorb and better understand how other writers structured their first few pages—which is crucial in the book world. I also paid attention to their writing style and prose.  

I threw on my earbuds and tuned in from my phone and went on a long walk. As I listened, I pretended I was on the panel of Simon Cowells, and internalized my feedback. I was surprised to hear similar comments from the pros. I had my “omg, maybe I am getting better as a writer and editor” moment. Zing!

Most of the feedback was brutal, but as they say, you gotta thicken your skin and learn how to roll with the punches to improve. Man, I wished every day ended with the Slushpile Sesh because it helped me better understand what kind of writing appeals to editors and publishers vs. what falls flat.  

A new community 

On the last day and in the final Zoom networking session, I met a fantastic group of women. We ended up chatting for way longer than the allotted schedule and kept the conversation going via email. The thread got longer and longer (email anxiety) until I finally asked if we should just start our own Facebook group. 

Lo and behold, I kicked off the group and we’re now using it to keep in touch, swap chapters and give feedback, and generally support each other. This is what community is all about. I’m humbled by everyone in the group and hope it continues to evolve and grow. 

Overall, I had a great experience and I’m still going through the sessions that I missed—all of the sessions are recorded and made available after the conference is over. Yay. 

For next year’s WIP, there are whispers to have it in person, which could be fun but also more expensive and a lot more work for the organizers.

Share

Here’s more on writing and stuff.

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

Changing my memoir's story (and testing different book covers to help with inspiration)

The other day I was talking to my sister about the guilt we both faced as kids of immigrant parents. This guilt is something that haunted both of us well into our adulthood. It all started when we were expected to help my parents at the businesses they owned while we were growing up—a…

Read more

3 years ago · 2 likes · 4 comments · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

ReVISIONing the editing process

My approach to editing has always been very rule-based. In grade school, you learn that edits come after your draft. Editing is when you strive for precision, clarity, and perfection. For editing a book, I understood editing to embody two major layers…

Read more

3 years ago · 2 likes · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

The price tag for writing groups and classes

I wrote previously about joining paid writing groups and classes but decided to do a more updated one. Today’s newsletter goes over the price and value of these writing classes and groups. Three of the four are paid. If you’re searching for classes and writing groups to help improve your skills and take part in a community, I hope my experience gives yo…

Read more

3 years ago · 4 likes · 3 comments · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

Why we should all write more uselessly

Words that never saw the light of day always felt painful to me. So I never wrote just because. I think it’s because I was trained this way. As a writer in various marketing roles at San Francisco-based startups, I wrote furiously but strategically. I needed to write efficiently and not waste time or words. I hated…

Read more

3 years ago · 7 likes · 2 comments · Claire Tak

The other day I was talking to my sister about the guilt we both faced as kids of immigrant parents. This guilt is something that haunted both of us well into our adulthood. It all started when we were expected to help my parents at the businesses they owned while we were growing up—a market and a bakery.

As soon as I had a license to drive, I went to the bakery after school, on weekends, and throughout college. I also worked at the market on Sundays so my dad could play golf.

My guilt started from not wanting to work.

On the one hand, I wanted to help my folks because I saw how hard they worked. On the other, I was just a teenager who wanted to do fun shit with my friends, like go to the mall and have bonfires at the beach. It wasn’t that I never got to do those things, I had plenty of fun in my youth. But I definitely felt different—like I didn’t have the same freedom as my friends and I hated it.

Subscribe now

If I wasn’t working at the store or bakery, I was watching my younger brother. I was always feeling guilty for not wanting to be a babysitter and for not wanting to help my parents.

This struggle would put me into this spiral of shame. Letting go of this family guilt took years of reflection and processing. I worked out my feelings through journaling, writing, and some therapy in my 30s. I also talked to my mom about it, letting her know how it felt to have such responsibility at that age. Hearing her side of it and just talking through it has also been incredibly healing.

Why these stories?

Whenever I talk about working for my parents in my youth, people seem fascinated. They always say stuff like, “Wow that’s so interesting.” Or they’ll ask, “Was your dad’s store like that TV show, ‘Kim’s Convenience?” They go on to tell me they love that show.

Their eyes widen when I tell them that my dad’s store was nothing like “Kim’s Convenience.” If “Kim’s Convenience” had a darker, less funny version, set against an apocalyptic-looking ghetto neighborhood, it might be.

In my mind, I never thought this time in my life was one bit interesting. I was just helping my parents like an obedient daughter. I had plenty of other Korean-American friends who also worked occasionally at their parent’s dry cleaners, liquor store, or swap meet clothing store. But unlike me, they did it because they wanted to. 

Share

Changing my memoir

Meanwhile, my memoir's first vomit draft was sort of done. I had written more than 150,000 words and was in the process of cutting and editing and rewriting. But I kept wondering:

• Am I being too whiny and complaining too much? 

• What’s the point of each scene?  

• Would I want to read this book? 

That last question really stuck with me. Would I want to buy my own book? At first, I was like, hmmm… probably not?

Then I was like, okay fine, I wouldn’t buy it. Admitting that was tough. But I know what a good story is and although mine definitely had engaging parts, overall, it felt lackluster. 

Because I’ve read so many memoirs, I know a good story doesn’t have to be filled with drama and fights and chaos to be a page-turner, but it has to connect and engage the reader.  

But I didn’t feel like the first draft was a waste of time because it helped the actual story to finally shine. From my writing groups and classes and podcasts, I hear this is quite normal. Sometimes, you don’t see what the true story is until several iterations later. 

The most important thing is that I’m enjoying the process, and that counts too, right?

So after letting these thoughts marinate for the last month, I decided to pivot the story to be about this guilt that I faced as a child of immigrant parents.

Share

Brainstorming inspiration: Crafting future book covers

Now, I need to reorganize the entire structure of my book. It’ll be a nightmare, but I think my first draft (and Wendy’s class) really helped me understand this better. I expect to get stuck but at least I feel better about my story. 

In thinking through all of the changes I need to make, I could tell I was losing the motivation to write. But in last week’s writing class, my writing teacher said this is totally normal and suggested a few ways to get inspired.

She pulled up a slide during class about “How to brainstorm inspiration.” These stood out to me most: 

• Vision boards (I love doing these in general)

• Creating your book cover 🤔

• Creating rewards

I decided to go with the second bullet because I wanted to see how I’d feel in looking at a pretend cover of my book, especially because I had no clue what the title would be.

I wondered if it would actually help with motivation. Plus, with all the news of AI image generators and ChatGPT in the news lately, I thought it would be a great time to test them out. 

What ChatGPT thinks I should do for my book cover

I asked for advice on my book cover based on this prompt: 

“I need a book cover for a memoir about working for my Korean immigrant parents in America.” Maybe not the best prompt, but this is what it said to do. It even gave me a title.

The book cover features a young Korean American girl or boy standing in front of a background that depicts the United States in some way, such as a cityscape or a landscape. The girl or boy is dressed in modern clothing that reflects their Korean heritage, such as a hanbok or a traditional Korean dress paired with sneakers or jeans.

The title of the book, "In Between Two Worlds," is written in bold letters in the center of the cover, with smaller text below that reads, "Growing Up Korean American." The subtitle could be in smaller font size and can be centered or aligned to the right or left of the title.

Alternatively, the book cover could feature a close-up image of a Korean American child's face, with a background of the American flag or a collage of images representing their cultural duality. The title of the book and the author's name could be displayed in large letters above or below the image.

The cover could use colors that reflect the Korean flag, such as red, blue, and white, or it could feature more neutral colors that represent the American flag, such as red, white, and blue.

I thought it was generic—ick, a Korean flag? I’m rolling my eyes. But then I thought, maybe I need something that appeals to the masses. On to the next… 

Share

Starry.ai

I found this by Googling which image generators are free and good. Starry.ai seemed to be on the “best of” lists.

When I got to Starry.ai, I typed in something like, “Korean-American part-time job in high school,” and this is what it spit out. 

Nightcafe

I also tried Nightcafe and typed in “working for my parents in high school Korean-American immigrants” and this is what I got. 

Canva

Canva is awesome and I’ve used it for years in my career in marketing. I love Canva’s templates. They’re a godsend for anyone who wants to make a digital birthday card or business document like a one-sheet for product pricing. 

I did a quick search for memoir book covers and was impressed with the results. 

I tweaked these two templates with potential titles. I thought of this title in less than a few seconds so it’ll likely change (or maybe it won’t?). But for now, it helps paint a better picture of what the story will be about. 

This brainstorming for book covers was kind of fun and didn’t take up a ton of time, which I liked. Not only do I have a potential title, but I have a better idea of what I want to focus on.

There’s something powerful about simply seeing an image with words on it.

After this exercise, I was able to power through a new scene list that was nearly a page long. So, I guess it did help with inspiring motivation. 🙂

Subscribe now

I’m curious to learn how you brainstorm inspiration. Leave me a comment.

My approach to editing has always been very rule-based. In grade school, you learn that edits come after your draft. Editing is when you strive for precision, clarity, and perfection. 

For editing a book, I understood editing to embody two major layers:

• Macro level/developmental editing—does the story make sense as a whole? 

• Micro level—line edits. Cut, remove, tighten. 

Subscribe now

Feeling stuck and confused

I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve reached a point in writing my memoir where I could just write forever. I could keep happily writing, as long as I don’t have to think about the daunting task of editing. Now that I’m more than 150,000 words in, I’m like, crap, stop writing and go back and refine. 

Each morning I drag my feet because it’s so much to read over. When I re-read my scenes, I’m grappling with the following problems:

• Certain scenes are starting to feel pointless. When I wrote it, I didn’t take enough time to stop and reflect on why I wrote it. In some of the best memoirs I’ve read, every word is intentional, almost like poetry. (A great example of this is in the memoir by Gail Caldwell, “Let’s Take the Long Way Home.” I wrote about it in last week’s newsletter.)

• Too much narration. Is it interesting or is it boring? Am I being too whiny?

If I’m not even fully sure how to resolve these issues, how can I edit them? Or… is there more I should be thinking about?

I kept thinking about this each morning and I could feel the resistance growing each day. So I paused for a moment on the whole editing thing.

I have this habit of wanting to find a solution ASAP, but with age, I’m finding that not doing anything is perfectly okay.

I figured maybe this editing thing is a common problem for writers, so I just kept writing and refining as best I could, skipping over parts that felt too daunting. 

Share

Redefining how I think about editing

During this time, I happened to be listening to one of my favorite writing podcasts, “Write Minded,” hosted by my current writing teacher, Brooke Warner. The episode featured Peter Ho Davies, author of “The Art of Revision: The Last Word.” (I definitely need to read his book.)

Davies said that editing is more of a reVISIONing process and less about the order writing then editing and butchering of words. His insight made me reconsider my entire notion of editing and let go of the rules I was taught as a kid. Maybe I need to expand the way I define it. Perhaps I’m being too rigid when it comes to what editing even means. 

Once I became more aware of this, I was more open to trying new methods to think through my scenes (and edit). I discovered that I’m now more interested in how each scene improves (or doesn’t) and why. 

These are a mix of takeaways from the podcast and things I’m learning from my own experiments. 

Share

Brainstorming while editing? Say what.

Davies talked about using editing as a time to think and even brainstorm. This struck me as totally backward, shattering all the truths I held on to about editing. 

While I’m still cutting out parts that I know are totally irrelevant, I’m now leaning into the ones that feel hazy. The ones that make me stop and think, “Wait, why is this in here?” 

Normally, I’d automatically remove these parts into my “cuts folder” (the place where words go to die) and move on. But now, I ask myself why I felt compelled to add this scene in the first place. 

Then, I do a mini-brainstorm and write out a few sentences about why I thought it would work in this section or why it was meaningful to include. I make a list with bullets. I realized this approach is also in line with writing more uselessly, something I wrote about in a previous newsletter. 

After the mini-brainstorm, I add a bookmark to this section with a comment so I can easily go back to it. (I use Scrivener but you could certainly do this in Google Docs or Word too.)

Re-understanding memories

In this new approach, I’m also returning to certain scenes (usually dramatic or big moments in my manuscript) to see if I can extract their meaning differently. 

This is definitely true in my own experience of editing, especially during the dark times of my life. What I once believed to be true, I’m now picking apart and examining in a different light. A good example is the way I thought my parents coddled and spoiled my brother as a child and adult. In many ways they did, but as I kept writing about it, I realized they were just trying to be supportive and loving. 

According to Davies, “This is the revision process. Rewriting is about re-seeing.” 

At times, this all feels like a lot of exploring just to explore and a waste of time, but I’m learning that not everything needs to have a tangible outcome. Even if I can’t figure out why the scene is in there and the purpose it serves (for myself and the reader), I suspect this exercise is useful for me to develop as an author. 

For my memoir, it’ll help me extract a deeper meaning and a greater understanding of what my story means and provide value for the reader.

Share

Check out my other newsletters:

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

Memoir picks: True gems about friendship and death

I recently heard the term “anticipatory death” discussed on Anderson Cooper’s “All There Is” podcast. People who experience anticipatory death may be dealing with a loved one who has dementia or Alzheimer’s, cancer, or terminal illness. I had never quite heard of dying as anticipatory death, but instantly recognized i…

Read more

3 years ago · 2 likes · 2 comments · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

The price tag for writing groups and classes

I wrote previously about joining paid writing groups and classes but decided to do a more updated one. Today’s newsletter goes over the price and value of these writing classes and groups. Three of the four are paid. If you’re searching for classes and writing groups to help improve your skills and take part in a community, I hope my experience gives yo…

Read more

3 years ago · 3 likes · 3 comments · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

The craft of a damn good story: 3 podcasts to listen to right now

I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I tend to give solid recommendations for the best podcasts. I’m a huge podcast person—I could’ve dedicated an entire Substack to it. Maybe I should… Podcast Junkie Wannabe Author? In listening and sifting through various podcasts about writing and authorship, I realized t…

Read more

3 years ago · 4 likes · 2 comments · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

Why we should all write more uselessly

Words that never saw the light of day always felt painful to me. So I never wrote just because. I think it’s because I was trained this way. As a writer in various marketing roles at San Francisco-based startups, I wrote furiously but strategically. I needed to write efficiently and not waste time or words. I hated…

Read more

3 years ago · 7 likes · 2 comments · Claire Tak

Memoir Junkie Wannabe Author

3 things that changed my writing forever

I actually started writing my memoir back in 2017. In a Google doc, I wrote about moments in my life that were funny, dramatic, and meaningful. I included the “a-has” and events that slowly changed how I thought about myself and the world around me…

Read more

3 years ago · 4 likes · 1 comment · Claire Tak

If you’re searching for classes and writing groups to help improve your skills and take part in a community, I hope my experience gives you a better idea of what to expect and how much it costs.

In order to transform myself into a one-day published author, I knew I had to take writing classes. At some point, I knew I’d have to pay, which I was okay with. The problem was, which writing class? What group? And how much?

When I first started my journey, I chose the free or very inexpensive route to learn, such as:

• Watching YouTube videos from authors and editors (free)

• Signing up for a month of Coursera ($59, half off on Black Friday)

• A few one-off webinars and classes (roughly $79 to $99)

• Purchasing books about writing a memoir (I probably spent a total of $75-100)

Then, I hit a wall. There was only so much free information I could research before my questions became more technical. I started wondering, how do I structure my book? How do I stitch together disparate parts of my life so they flow seamlessly—for example, skipping large chunks of time but doing it in a way that doesn’t jar the reader?

Share

I also wanted to be part of a writing community—my kumbaya group of fellow comrades to exchange chapters with, get feedback, and knowledge swap. This community would help me learn but also keep me motivated to keep going, since writing can be terribly isolating.

I want to emphasize that for me, I was eager to take classes and pay it. But you do not have to take paid classes if you don’t think it’s right for you or if money is tight. There are plenty of free writing resources too. After hitting that wall, I didn’t feel like continuing the rabbit hole of online research to get my questions answered.

While the classes and groups have been a central part of my journey to reach the finish line for my book, the most important thing I did throughout all of it was to write every single day. Taking classes without a daily (or regular) writing practice is a lost cause. Can I get an amen? 🙂

So I joined the following groups and wanted to share them with you because this is what is making the greatest impact on my writing.

1. First Draft and Second Draft writing groups

• First Draft: $35 a month (meets 2x a week)

• Second Draft: $145 a month (meets 1x a week)

• Upcoming writing retreat: Feb. 18-23, 2023 in Key Largo—spots are still available. Enjoy yoga, amazing meals, and lots of writing time! 

Through the Writing Class Radio podcast I wrote about last week, I found out about their weekly writing group on Zoom. I hadn’t encountered any other podcasts that also offered a unique opportunity to meet each week. (And trust me, I looked.) The beauty of a podcast is that you get to know the hosts and what aspects of writing and story they focus on, so after binging the podcast, I was all in.

I joined First Draft last year and after a few months, upgraded to Second Draft. I did this for two reasons—one, I had such a positive experience with First Draft. Two, I knew that Second Draft has a limited number of seats (I think it’s 6?) and specifically designed for writers who are serious about getting their personal essays published. 

Second Draft requires writers to come prepared with an already-written essay. You read your essay based on a rotating schedule. Then, everyone else comments and gives feedback.

In First Draft, you write during class based on a prompt you’re given. I can tell I’ve grown as a writer from just the two or three months I’ve been with this group. It’s taught me to think on my toes and just go with ideas, even if it doesn’t quite flow or make sense.

Subscribe now

So far, Second Draft is exactly what I thought it would be, but better. I like how people aren’t afraid to be a bit critical. The feedback from others (and giving feedback) is showing me what I need to think about more in my own writing (including scenes from my memoir), like: 

What do people want to know more about? 

What made sense and what didn’t? 

What could be cut? 

I enjoy this process of learning about what resonates with people. It’s also making me a stronger listener and editor. 

Final thoughts: I find the value to be tremendous—$145 for Second Draft four times a month, then First Draft twice a week. That’s up to 12 times I can meet with this writing group each month.  

2. Memoir Writing for Geniuses

• Cost: ~ $800 for 8 weeks

• Frequency: 1x a week for 2 hours on Zoom

• What you learn: Structure and layout of your memoir and story

• What appealed to me: The small group (6 people) and by the 8 weeks, I had the outline for my memoir in way better shape than before I took the class.

I wrote about taking Memoir Writing for Geniuses in this newsletter. I first found the teacher, Wendy Dale, through her YouTube channel. 

Wendy’s videos were the opposite of the vague, high-level stuff I kept seeing from other authors about how to write a memoir. After watching all of her free videos, I decided to take her class on structuring my memoir.

I signed up because I needed to understand the nuts and bolts of structure. This class taught me how to lay out my book in a way that made sense with the story I wanted to convey. 

Of course, my manuscript still has a long way to go, but after taking her class, I feel more confident about the process. I now have a roadmap of how to connect disparate events that happened in my life, even though it wasn’t in chronological order. Now, I’m not afraid to skip around while writing, add chapters, remove them, and deal with the transitions later. 

Final thoughts: If you struggle with structure, I highly recommend starting with Wendy’s free YouTube videos and taking her free course. She offers such insightful ways to structure your book, how to properly insert dialogue, create meaningful scenes, and how to write better prose.

Share

3. Write Your Memoir in 6 Months

• Cost: ~ $2,200 for 6 months

• Frequency: Meets every other week for 1 hour 15 mins on Zoom

• What you learn: The elements of writing focused on craft. (More below.)

• What appealed to me: The class aims to give you feedback (from the teachers) for roughly half of your manuscript. Students are required to turn in 2,500 words for each class for 6 months.

This is the class I’m taking in the first half of 2023. It’s called Write Your Memoir in 6 Months with Brooke Warner and Linda Joy. I discovered this class through Brooke’s podcast, Write-Minded. (I wrote about it previously in a newsletter about NaNoWriMo and about writing uselessly.)

I decided to sign up because I am a big fan of the podcast, plus I liked the syllabus of what the class teaches—including how to outline properly, develop characters, and how to think about reflection so that it satisfies your reader. It was clearly posted on the website.

I just started class this month and already submitted a 2,500-word part of my memoir to Brooke. I was surprised by her detailed edits, which were extremely helpful for me to see in the tracked edits mode in Word.

The edits ranged from grammar and simple copy changes to thinking through the meaning of what the chapter entailed. Just from Brooke’s feedback, I can already tell this class is different from Wendy’s class. Different in a good way. You’re also given a writing buddy for accountability and for swapping assignments.

Final thoughts: It’s too soon to make a detailed assessment, but so far so good. I’m excited to see how this unfolds and so glad I signed up.

Subscribe now

4. Shut Up & Write

• Cost: Free

• What: Shut Up & Write is a nonprofit that gathers writers together simply for the sake of writing for an hour.

This is a group I found on Meetup. I first joined Shut Up & Write because I wanted more of an in-person connection with other writers in my town. At the time, I needed a way to boost my energy and focus around my book. Plus, I was curious about what other people were working on and wanted to know what got their creative juices flowing. 

The idea behind it is simple, you meet somewhere, say hello, write intensely for an hour, and then chit-chat afterwards about how it went. I like how there’s no pressure to talk about what you’re working on or to share at all if you don’t feel like it. I recall one meetup when a guy walked in late, typed away on his laptop, and then left before the hour was over. So basically, no one had a chance to even say hi or get his name. Afterwards, the group gave him a nickname: the Ninja Writer.

I ended up meeting some really amazing people. You don’t even have to be a writer to join, just go and work on something. I also liked how people were so willing to share tips and resources they used for writing, like whether to sign up for Scrivener or what their self-publishing experience was like. 

They have various locations around the U.S. in major cities so there’s a good chance there’s one in your area. 

Final thoughts: It’s totally worth it if you’re tired of Zoom and just want to connect with other local writers.

In the future, I may hire a book coach to help get my manuscript in a good place before I either self-publish or go the traditional route (still undecided). Later in the year, I’d love to participate in a writing retreat. For now, I’m plenty busy with Brooke’s class and the writing groups.

Leave a comment if you’ve had similar or different experiences with writing classes and groups.

Share

Since starting my memoir and my writing classes, I write and write and write. All this writing did something to my brain.

I suddenly started seeing the world as little stories I could write about. It’s like everything, even the mundane, suddenly became fodder for an op-ed. 

People, relationships, and their nuances seemed to sparkle in a new light. I especially became interested in the grey area between what we think vs. how we behave.

I started to feel like I could pick out a story just about anywhere—road rage doesn’t exist in Hawaii (why is that?), my dad’s deteriorating legs (what does body betrayal feel like?), and of course, my brother (he was so fiercely loved when growing up, why did he make such poor decisions?). 

Share

I started taking notes all the time—even during my sleep. My eyes would open at 2 a.m. because I had a dream about a new story or chapter. With my body still drowsy but my mind spinning with fresh ideas, I’d open my notes app and jot it down before drifting off into sleep again.

Writer’s eye was both exhilarating and exhausting. I was a kid again, looking at a caterpillar for the first time under a magnifying glass. 

Empathy for my brother

In thinking about that space between what a person feels vs. behavior, my brother kept coming up. I wondered what he thought each time he sold drugs or ran around with people he damn well knew he couldn’t trust. 

Before he went to prison and before all this writer’s eye business, I didn’t want to know how he was doing or more importantly, what he was doing. Just because you’re related doesn’t mean you have to be best friends. But then it struck me that the relationship I had with my brother wasn’t rooted in friendship. It was more like… sister-mom. (Not to be confused with sister-wife. 😁)

I took care of him from the day he was born. I still remember my first job as his sister-mom. It was to make sure he didn’t roll off the couch after he came home from the hospital. I dutifully reported back to my mom, who was eating in the kitchen, that he did not roll off the couch. 

I watched him learn how to talk. I noticed the first time he started shaking his head at age 5 before he was diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome and ADHD. 

Each time my parents moved and my brother attended a new elementary school or junior high, I was anxious as hell. As you can imagine, shaking your head, arm, and leg while making little monkey noises isn’t exactly the winning formula to make you popular.

Subscribe now

When my brother first started lying to my parents and getting into trouble in junior high, I’d long for a simpler time when a McDonald’s Happy Meal and the toy inside would be the highlight of his day. These are all mom-like memories, amirite? 

My family is such a part of me and my brother’s existence has shaped who I’ve become. 

Choosing to believe a better narrative

I wasn’t prepared for his sentencing and life in prison. But then again there’s no handbook for how to deal with your baby brother going to the slammer. 

I knew I had to change my thoughts in order to come to acceptance. I did a lot of “useless writing” and at first, wrote about what I was most afraid of. I imagined he’d get bullied, raped, stabbed, or killed in a fight. I also feared his brain would rot from sitting around and watching TV all day in his cell. 

After reflection and writing, plus a few in-person visits to my brother, I started to feel better and eventually plugged the rabbit hole of these terrifying prison scenarios.

Instead, I chose to believe a new truth—that prison is the only way he would get better. If he were free, he would continue to live his stunted existence, unaware of life’s possibilities and gifts. There’d be no reason for him to stop smoking weed and popping Xanax. He’d probably be dead, and I’m not the first in my family to say it.

Share

Stories About My Brother

I saw his situation as an opportunity. I felt called to create Stories About My Brother. I wrote the About page, complete with older photos of my brother. I’d like to share it with you. I’m hoping it provides a better understanding of why I started it and what I want to achieve. (Be sure to subscribe, I’m still working on the first post set to publish this month. Update: Here it is!)

Subscribe to Stories About My Bro

Unlike pink eye or a stye, catching writer’s eye has truly been a gift. It’s given me another way to see and interpret the world and increased my capacity for love and empathy. It’s equal part pain and pleasure, but I feel grateful to have caught it when I did. 

Words that never saw the light of day always felt painful to me. So I never wrote just because. I think it’s because I was trained this way. As a writer in various marketing roles at San Francisco-based startups, I wrote furiously but strategically. I needed to write efficiently and not waste time or words. I hated deleting sentences or entire ideas. Oh, how attached I’d get. 

But then something shifted—surprise, it happened after I started my memoir. Naturally, I had to write a lot more frequently. For the first time, I was writing in the mornings and afternoons. In crafting my scenes and chapters, I started noticing they were like personal essays with their own mini-arguments about the events I recounted. 

Subscribe now

I also joined a weekly writing group where I’d write for 30 minutes from a random prompt like “the time you were chosen or not chosen.” 

Through my favorite writing podcast, Write Minded (co-hosted by Grant Faulkner of ), I learned that published authors, like Lan Samantha Chang, would regularly write senselessly and without conscious intent. It would ignite inspiration and ideas for future projects or books. 

The theme I started noticing throughout all of this was that: 

writing just to write

writing to explore

freewriting 

…are all good things. No, it’s better than good. It’s downright therapeutic and sparks motivation when you’re feeling blah. Like Lan, I too started noticing the benefits. New ideas for my chapters and Substack blogs suddenly appeared before me.  

Useless writing as brain dumps

I really love how the art of writing isn’t binary. I can apply what I learn from writing my memoir to writing for my clients too. I started using the “useless writing” mantra when starting a new assignment. Before, I’d have the writing and research mostly laid out before starting the draft.

But now, I start with the idea first. I use free writing to get all of the central themes and arguments to pour out of me. Even if it doesn’t make sense, I just go with it. 

I completely ignore the editor side of me to compulsively fix typos and instead, allow run-on sentences to take over as if periods and commas don’t exist. I let all of the ideas and mistakes flow. 

Share

It took me a long time to reach this point. I remember the early days when I’d write for clients and then immediately edit everything. I was overwhelmed with the amount of work so I’d force myself to write an entire article from draft to final. I realized 8 hours had gone by and felt intense fatigue from… oh I don’t know, that my brain was melting? 

Now, I write “uselessly” and after it’s all out, I take a break. Sidenote—if ever there was an unspoken rule for a writer, or for any job that requires intense focus, it’s to step away. Some of my writer friends take extended breaks for a month or two, just to distance themselves from the project. Then when they return, they experience it with fresh eyes. I have yet to try this, but it’s on my radar. 

For client work, I experience newfound clarity when I don’t look at the draft for at least a day or two. I’m able to formulate different angles and questions to explore, which ultimately, better shapes the argument. 

Pick out the ideas and delete what isn’t central

When I return to my computer, I jump into the second round. I like this part because, with a refreshed brain, it’s so easy to delete what isn’t necessary. I still have the habit of being way too attached to what I write. In that case, I create a separate document and save the unwanted copy in there. Mostly, I never look at it again. 

This second round helps me figure out what is central. I identify the main idea and supporting statements. Then, I string them together and remove anything that doesn’t support the central idea. 

If you write for your job or for clients, try this process out and see if it helps you better identify the main argument. These types of articles are most likely laid out as a problem/solution. 

I also use this method for writing parts of my memoir that feel hazy. I start with what the scene is all about and why it’s meaningful.

Or maybe you’re not a writer but want to figure out what goals you want to accomplish in 2023. Write down all of the memorable moments you experienced in 2022 (don’t forget the “whys”) and see what stands out to you. 

Share

Speaking of 2023, Happy New Year

This morning, while listening to Write Minded, I was prompted by host Brooke Warner (my future writing teacher—I start her 6-month writing course this month, more on that in a future Substack!) about the following three things:

1. What is your work in progress and how is that going?

My memoir of course. I have over 90K words written. I still have much of Act 2 (the longest act) to figure out from a macro level. What’s driving the story, instead of “this happened and then that happened.” I’m still struggling through that. I want to better convey how I’ve changed.

2. What’s one creative thing you learned last year that will carry you into the new year?

In going with today’s article, I’ll go with useless writing because it’s helped me in so many ways both in my memoir writing and professional life. 

3. Who is one person you were inspired by?

There are also so many authors that motivate me to keep going and tell my story. I wrote about it in a previous Substack, memoirs you should read right now, and included Stephanie Foo and her book “What My Bones Know.” 

Her writing is phenomenal and she tells her story so deliciously. She’s also Asian American so, in a weird way, I feel a kind of immigrant connection, the “if-she-can-do-it-so-can-I” feeling. She’s a storyteller at heart and her podcasts also inspire me to one day (someday) create my own.  

As we embark on a new year, I hope you will think about these three things too, and feel leave them in the comments. 

Don’t forget to subscribe to my upcoming Substack about my brother. In case you missed it, I wrote about it in last week’s blog. I plan on posting the first story this month!

Inmate 9023: Stories About My Brother

I actually started writing my memoir back in 2017. In a Google doc, I wrote about moments in my life that were funny, dramatic, and meaningful. I included the “a-has” and events that slowly changed how I thought about myself and the world around me. 

I wrote and wrote, but I thought, this sucks. No one will want to read this. But I couldn’t quite pinpoint what exactly sucked. 

Share

Up until that point, I had read enough memoirs from amazing authors to recognize stories that completely captivated me. I wondered how to craft scenes and chapters like some of my all-time favorites—The Invisible Thread, Tuesdays With Morrie, or I Am Brian Wilson (I love the Beach Boys). 

I knew my draft lacked dialogue. So I added in dialogue. It still sucked. Feeling overwhelmed, I told myself I’d figure it out later. Like a lot of people who start writing a book, I thought I should automatically know how to write a good story. If I can’t even do that, I thought, I’ll never finish. I put it away and eventually forgot about it. 

Cut to 2022. This time, I vowed to get answers for how to write interesting scenes and chapters. I wasn’t even quite sure what a scene entailed. I also needed major help with structuring my book. 

I knew I had to expand my understanding of all of this through writing classes. The online classes I took helped me with structure—which chapters should go where and how to connect them all together.

The weekly writing group exposed me to unique voices from all walks of life and week by week, I discovered how other writers craft their structure from personal essays.

I’ll further explain the three specific things I learned that changed my writing for the better.

1. I stopped summarizing

Remember that thing I couldn’t pinpoint in my sucky first draft? I now understand why—it wasn’t a story. It was a summary. I compared it to when I was in high school and would get the cliff notes vs. actually reading the book. Let’s just say I read a lot of cliff notes in my day. When we’d have follow-up discussions in class about the book, it was obvious I didn’t fully grasp the story.

In summarizing, I was rushing through my story and forgoing scenes that would fully engage the reader.  

I learned that in order to write a book, you have to ground your reader and create scenes that draw out a particular event.

Then, as my writing teacher would say, you can pepper in dialogue to bring the reader deeper into the scene.

So I tried that. What I once thought would suffice in two paragraphs sometimes ended up being two pages because I was adding in dialogue, more thoughtful prose, and a whole lot of internal stuff. This brings me to the next thing…

2. I started writing more subjectively

In thinking about all of the books I’ve read and listened to over the years, the ones that keep me engaged make me feel like I’m a ghost, hovering over the characters, watching the scenes unfold. 

It’s one of the best parts about reading—to get inside the writer’s head. David Sedaris is a master of this. He can make the most mundane come alive in such a humorous way by telling the reader what he’s thinking.

This is why books feel so much more compelling than watching a movie. I have yet to hear anyone say, “the movie was way better than the book.” 

When I wrote more subjectively, I included more “head and heart stuff” and fewer play-by-plays of what happened. I also stopped overly describing the physical place of the scene, as I learned it doesn’t really matter. What’s more important is the narrator’s thoughts and feelings.

Share

Then, something unexpected happened. I started noticing the details of my own life, so much more vividly. You know, the tiny things that make you, you. Or the quirks that make your family and friendships so weird and unique. 

Prime example—the other day my mom assisted my dad to the bathroom (he’s mostly wheelchair-bound from diabetes). I was cognizant of the way she would count his steps out loud as he carefully made his way from the living room to the bathroom without his walker. Her voice always deepens and in a military cadence, she’d say, “One, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four…” 

It’s not that I never noticed this before. But I suppose I didn’t bother to consider the subtle nuances of this moment. My mom was channeling her inner soldier to motivate my dad to make it to the bathroom.

3. I use fewer adjectives

Everyone knows about “show don’t tell” so, in my mind, showing = lots of adjectives. I sprinkled them all over my sucky first draft. 

After watching a few YouTube videos from accomplished authors, I learned that in order to really “show” a scene and immerse your reader, you have to allow the reader to feel it and come up with her own conclusions. This helps evoke deeper emotion and connection to the scene. 

Wow—this one hit me like a ton of lightbulbs. Yes, this is so true. When I thought about all the books I’ve read, I did recall moments where I reached my own conclusions about how a character felt or looked. I subconsciously imagined myself in that situation and would come up with my own interpretation of that scene. 

A simple example, “Hank was staggeringly tall at six-foot-seven” (the author is telling you exactly how Hank looks) vs. “Hank crouched down so he wouldn’t hit his head” (you’re left to imagine it for yourself and come to the conclusion that Hank is a big person).  

Jerry Jenkins, a fiction author I follow on YouTube, does a fabulous job of explaining this further. Wendy Dale, my former online writing class teacher for Memoir Geniuses, hates “show don’t tell.” Her video gives you the lowdown on what she means. 

Learn by examples—read voraciously

I’m obsessed with audiobooks and continue to listen to both fiction and nonfiction books. Recently, I started re-listening to my favorites. These included Educated, The Glass Castle, and of course Wild, by Cheryl Strayed.

The first time I listened to Wild, I was so completely drawn into the story. I was moved by her convictions to hike the PCT and the death of her mother. The second time, I took all of the lessons from my classes, and as a wannabe author, I noticed how satisfied her reflections made me feel. I hope my own reflections will make my future readers feel this way too.

Even though I thought about trashing my first sucky draft from 2017, I decided to keep it. It’s a memento of how much I’ve learned and grown as both a writer and observer. 

Share