I worked at Penguin when Treyf came out and remember that I devoured it in a day when I was supposed to have been working. I remember I emailed your former editor--Treyf was such a standout in the Berkley/NAL list at the time, it was truly not like the books we were publishing. It led me to Poor Man’s Feast, which I had to order on Amazon since the original cover was better to my mind. : ) I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time to find you on Substack! I can’t wait to read On Permission and the journey it takes to bring it to readers.
I’m so sorry your family reacted so negatively to your writing. I hope they find their way back to you one day, even if it’s only through your words.
It’s so painful to read this. I don’t think we can ever predict how people will react to being written about. Even the most innocuous comment can cause offence. And so many people assume you’re referring to them at some obscure point in your text. But none of that is a reason not to write. I’m glad you do :)
Thank you. It was an experience that I could have never fathomed -- it just was impossible for me to even remotely imagine it. How do you grieve for people who are still here, who were comfortable letting you go because you wrote something they didn't like? Shame does complicated, surprising things, and it's taken me this long to understand that I went through every stage of grief lo these ten years, as I moved forward. Nothing has given me more pain beyond the loss of my father. And even then: I never considered that it was not my story to tell. It was, and it is, because my grandmother --having reached out across the generations--touched my life with it.
What a journey of ups and downs, from family trauma to the trials and tribulations of simply producing that first book. Authoring is such a strange way to make a living, but what drives a memoirist to give away so much of themselves? I love reading memoir, it always seems so generous to me, and such a privilege to recieve.
Most memoirists I know are driven by the need to make meaning from [fill in the blank]. Dani Shapiro talks about "making order from chaos." Jayne Anne Phillips talks about the reason for memoir being "to insist that sorrow not be meaningless." But I think that the question can be applied to any maker of art: why do poets create what they do? Why are musicians drawn, compulsively, to the act of composing? (Also, very few authors make a living; those of us who eek it out do so with the help of teaching, writing of other kinds, editing. And almost to a number, we all do it.)
I understand the compulsion to make art, I write myself and have made very little money from it, but it is part of who I am and can't be stifled. Life would be dull without art, yet in our modern age, seems so undervalued and definitely underpaid. It wasn't always that way, at least, not in Ireland's history (although it was gendered). Thank you for your response, and best wishes to you.
I am just discovering you, Elissa, and I am awed, moved and encouraged. I write essays under the title Hot Flashes Cold Showers on Substack and they are, of course, personal. My challenge is and has been to dig down to the Truth...my Truth...and make it universal. It's risky and you've given me courage here to pursue Truth. I'm hoping I have the guts to go for it. Thanks for YOUR guts!
I just finished, and so enjoyed, listening to you read Motherland. As the daughter of an extremely self-absorbed mother, I hung onto every word. I am not a writer, but I often feel the need to relieve my burdened mind by writing down the account of my complicated life story. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you, and to affirm your choice to share your experience.
I am so looking forward to reading Poor Man’s Feast, and On Permission. Like you, I struggle with the idea of the fallout from truth telling. Something to ponder. Perhaps, at 66 years of age, parents still alive, I’ll go ahead and start recalling my story in writing.
I'm a sculptor/teaching artist that crossed paths with your blog on wordpress trying to do mine about art and severe special needs kids. You are the only one i pay to support. I LOVE writers and wish I could support soooo many deserving others. thanks for who you are. How you see the world means a lot to me
I’ve read and heard many answers to the question, “Is it okay to write the truth about my family?” The most widely quoted comes down to “Let it rip; they brought it on themselves.” Your answer seems to me the most convincing because you have grappled with the unforeseen consequences of writing the truth, and shared that story with readers.
I think and have always thought that the "let it rip; they brought it on themselves" plan is both short-sighted, unrealistic, and dangerous. It smacks of revenge writing, which I teach in every one of my workshops is an incredibly bad idea. Beyond resulting in flattened characters, an untrustworthy narrator, and a narrative core that gets shredded, revenge writing is sophomoric and simply doesn't make for good storytelling. I adhere to Dorothy Allison's rule, which she once shared with me over the the breakfast toast line at Tin House back in 2015: If you're going to write someone else as totally f**ked up, you have to write your narrator just as f**ked up." Or, put another way, via Vivian Gornick: For the drama to deepen we need to see the cunning of the innocent and the loneliness of the monster." Memoir needs to be crafted, not spewed in rage.
Incredible to read this today, only a week after my husband heard from a brand new 1st cousin through Ancestry.com - this cousin being the daughter of a love child born to his grandfather during WWII. To add another layer, the love child gave up the cousin in a closed adoption, so my husband is the first blood relative she's ever had contact with. My 86 year old mother in law now faces the realization she had/has a half sister and new niece with openness and curiosity, while her other sister , a conservative Southerner, wants nothing to do with this discovery, claiming it "only serves to tarnish our father's reputation". It is the truth! He's been dead for 30 years! How does she throw truth, along with this lovely woman, under the bus for appearances? Suffice it to say, I very much look forward to reading "On Permission".
Elissa, always love reading your words. I’m bracing myself for the fallout when my memoir comes out in 2026 even though I am already estranged from my family for speaking the truth about my own experience of abuse. Writing about it, I know, will be deemed the biggest betrayal. I have thought long and hard about what to say and what not to say. I have not done this lightly but this writing has freed me like no other thing. Loved Motherland. Such tenderness in your truth telling.
I worked at Penguin when Treyf came out and remember that I devoured it in a day when I was supposed to have been working. I remember I emailed your former editor--Treyf was such a standout in the Berkley/NAL list at the time, it was truly not like the books we were publishing. It led me to Poor Man’s Feast, which I had to order on Amazon since the original cover was better to my mind. : ) I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time to find you on Substack! I can’t wait to read On Permission and the journey it takes to bring it to readers.
I’m so sorry your family reacted so negatively to your writing. I hope they find their way back to you one day, even if it’s only through your words.
Wow. Thank you- The Treyf experience was wild; I had five editors in one year. Your words mean a lot to me--thank you 🙏🏻❤️🙏🏻
It’s so painful to read this. I don’t think we can ever predict how people will react to being written about. Even the most innocuous comment can cause offence. And so many people assume you’re referring to them at some obscure point in your text. But none of that is a reason not to write. I’m glad you do :)
Thank you. It was an experience that I could have never fathomed -- it just was impossible for me to even remotely imagine it. How do you grieve for people who are still here, who were comfortable letting you go because you wrote something they didn't like? Shame does complicated, surprising things, and it's taken me this long to understand that I went through every stage of grief lo these ten years, as I moved forward. Nothing has given me more pain beyond the loss of my father. And even then: I never considered that it was not my story to tell. It was, and it is, because my grandmother --having reached out across the generations--touched my life with it.
What a journey of ups and downs, from family trauma to the trials and tribulations of simply producing that first book. Authoring is such a strange way to make a living, but what drives a memoirist to give away so much of themselves? I love reading memoir, it always seems so generous to me, and such a privilege to recieve.
Most memoirists I know are driven by the need to make meaning from [fill in the blank]. Dani Shapiro talks about "making order from chaos." Jayne Anne Phillips talks about the reason for memoir being "to insist that sorrow not be meaningless." But I think that the question can be applied to any maker of art: why do poets create what they do? Why are musicians drawn, compulsively, to the act of composing? (Also, very few authors make a living; those of us who eek it out do so with the help of teaching, writing of other kinds, editing. And almost to a number, we all do it.)
I understand the compulsion to make art, I write myself and have made very little money from it, but it is part of who I am and can't be stifled. Life would be dull without art, yet in our modern age, seems so undervalued and definitely underpaid. It wasn't always that way, at least, not in Ireland's history (although it was gendered). Thank you for your response, and best wishes to you.
I am just discovering you, Elissa, and I am awed, moved and encouraged. I write essays under the title Hot Flashes Cold Showers on Substack and they are, of course, personal. My challenge is and has been to dig down to the Truth...my Truth...and make it universal. It's risky and you've given me courage here to pursue Truth. I'm hoping I have the guts to go for it. Thanks for YOUR guts!
It is always a risk, and yet, storytelling is our greatest leveler; it is what makes us human. Thank you ---
I just finished, and so enjoyed, listening to you read Motherland. As the daughter of an extremely self-absorbed mother, I hung onto every word. I am not a writer, but I often feel the need to relieve my burdened mind by writing down the account of my complicated life story. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you, and to affirm your choice to share your experience.
I am so looking forward to reading Poor Man’s Feast, and On Permission. Like you, I struggle with the idea of the fallout from truth telling. Something to ponder. Perhaps, at 66 years of age, parents still alive, I’ll go ahead and start recalling my story in writing.
Thank you so much for your kind words 🙏🏻
Love every word. Go Elissa!
Wow and thank you.
Thank you--You’re always on my mind 🙏🏻❤️
I'm a sculptor/teaching artist that crossed paths with your blog on wordpress trying to do mine about art and severe special needs kids. You are the only one i pay to support. I LOVE writers and wish I could support soooo many deserving others. thanks for who you are. How you see the world means a lot to me
Bravo, and as a fellow memoirist...I've been there with the fallout. Congratulations on your upcoming book!
I’ve read and heard many answers to the question, “Is it okay to write the truth about my family?” The most widely quoted comes down to “Let it rip; they brought it on themselves.” Your answer seems to me the most convincing because you have grappled with the unforeseen consequences of writing the truth, and shared that story with readers.
I think and have always thought that the "let it rip; they brought it on themselves" plan is both short-sighted, unrealistic, and dangerous. It smacks of revenge writing, which I teach in every one of my workshops is an incredibly bad idea. Beyond resulting in flattened characters, an untrustworthy narrator, and a narrative core that gets shredded, revenge writing is sophomoric and simply doesn't make for good storytelling. I adhere to Dorothy Allison's rule, which she once shared with me over the the breakfast toast line at Tin House back in 2015: If you're going to write someone else as totally f**ked up, you have to write your narrator just as f**ked up." Or, put another way, via Vivian Gornick: For the drama to deepen we need to see the cunning of the innocent and the loneliness of the monster." Memoir needs to be crafted, not spewed in rage.
This is so good, thank you. I’ve known bits of this story, but not the full arc. You’re a consummate writer and teacher, my friend.
Incredible to read this today, only a week after my husband heard from a brand new 1st cousin through Ancestry.com - this cousin being the daughter of a love child born to his grandfather during WWII. To add another layer, the love child gave up the cousin in a closed adoption, so my husband is the first blood relative she's ever had contact with. My 86 year old mother in law now faces the realization she had/has a half sister and new niece with openness and curiosity, while her other sister , a conservative Southerner, wants nothing to do with this discovery, claiming it "only serves to tarnish our father's reputation". It is the truth! He's been dead for 30 years! How does she throw truth, along with this lovely woman, under the bus for appearances? Suffice it to say, I very much look forward to reading "On Permission".
Elissa, always love reading your words. I’m bracing myself for the fallout when my memoir comes out in 2026 even though I am already estranged from my family for speaking the truth about my own experience of abuse. Writing about it, I know, will be deemed the biggest betrayal. I have thought long and hard about what to say and what not to say. I have not done this lightly but this writing has freed me like no other thing. Loved Motherland. Such tenderness in your truth telling.