memoir

Broken (in the best possible way)

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Jenny Lawson has been an author on my want-to-read list for a while now. I had seen, and remembered, her books — mainly because her covers are incredibly unique and absolutely do stand out and you can’t easily forget a cover that features a taxidermic roadkill raccoon. (That’s the cover of her nonfiction book, Furiously Happy.) I subscribe to Jenny’s blog, where she is known as “The Bloggess.” And, if I ever get to San Antonio, Texas I plan on visiting Nowhere Bookshop, the independent bookstore Ms. Lawson founded. 

In fact, I purchased Broken (in the best possible way) near the end of 2024, complete with one of Ms. Lawson’s well-known personalized messages. A year later, I read the book and only have positive things to say (I mean, write) about it. 

From the back of the book: “In Broken, Jenny brings readers on her mental and physical health journey, offering heartbreaking and hilarious anecdotes along the way.” 

Not only did I place a sticky note on many pages of the book, I actually laughed out loud several times, too! (The chapter, “Six Times I’ve Lost My Shoes While Wearing Them: A List that Shouldn’t Exist,” is absolutely laugh-out-loud-funny!) 

This week, I share with you some of my favorite passages. (Keyword – some; I simply con’t include them all.)

“It’s weird because we often try to present our fake, shiny, happy selves to others and make sure we’re not wearing too-obvious pajamas at the grocery store, but really, who wants to see that level of fraud? No one. What we really want is to know we’re not alone in our terribleness. We want to appreciate the failure that makes us perfectly us and wonderfully relatable to every other person out there who is also pretending that they have their shit together and didn’t just eat that onion ring that fell on the floor. Human foibles are what make us us, and the art of mortification is what brings us all together.” 



“Be good. Be kind. Love each other. Fuck everything else. The only thing that matters is how you feel and how you’ve made others feel. And I feel okay (for the moment), and I make others feel okay by being a barometer of awkwardness and self-doubt.” 

“I try to look on the bright side. If I were still working in HR I’d have to be on disability now, but since I work from home I can adjust my schedule to my broken body and my mind. I can still afford the expensive medications and doctors’ bills and there are a lot of people who can’t. I’m lucky. I could be sicker. I could be dead.”

“But I’ll keep going. And I’ll keep fighting. And I’ll keep forgiving myself for being flawed and human, and if I can’t write a funny chapter I’ll write a chapter like this. One that might be a little pathetic, might not make sense to anyone but me, but is still true. Exactly like me.” 

I highly recommend the chapter, “These Truisms Leave Out a Lot of the Truth.” Ms. Lawson talks about those books “filled with small phrases and truisms that are supposed to be inspirational. And they were. In that I read them all and promptly added the parts that the authors had left out.” Ms. Lawson explains, “people tell you to ‘take the bull by the horns,’ but why? It’s a bull. Where are you taking it? And if you are going to take it somewhere I’m pretty sure you don’t drag it by the horns. The rule of bulls is avoid the horns. They aren’t bicycle handlebars.” 

Additionally, the chapter, “An Open Letter to My Health Insurance Company” is heartbreaking and honest and hilarious. This chapter needs to be given and read by every pharmacy. Every doctor. Every hospital. Every insurance company. Taken from the first paragraph: “It was a mistake to think that an insurance company claiming to want to help you in your sickest hours was anything other than a scam … after all, you are here to make money. And I am here to live. And it seems those things are sometimes mutually exclusive.”

“I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think many of us struggle with the thought that it’s okay to take care of ourselves, and it’s strange that it’s a struggle to treat ourselves as kindly as we treat the dog. The dog needs walks and healthy choices and water and play and sleep and naps and bacon and more naps. And love. I need that too. And so do you. It’s not just a gift we give to ourselves … it’s a duty.”

“… we are changed by life… it puts its teeth in us, it leaves its handprints and marks and scars on us. And as much as we try to ignore those things, in the end they make us who we are. For good or for bad, we are changed and touched and broken and mended and scarred. And those marks (inside and out) tell a story. They tell our story.” 

Also, the whole “Souls” chapter. Beautiful! That’s all I’m going to say. You really have to read it yourself.

And I’ll end this post with the sentences Ms. Lawson wrote to end her book: “Good night. Be safe. Be kind to each other. Be kind to yourself. And if no one else has said it yet, thank you for being you. You are magic. Never doubt it, my friend.”

Friends, have you read Broken? Or any of Jenny Lawson’s books? 

You can pre-order signed copies of Jenny’s new book How to Be Okay When Nothing Is Okay: Tips and Tricks That Kept Me Alive, Happy, and Creative in Spite of Myself from Nowhere Bookshop. The book publishes on March 31st, 2026.

Wishing you all a peaceful, joyful New Year! May it be filled with light, love, laughter, and books. And lots of reading time!

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Will You Join Me, Please?

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Hi Friends,

I don’t one-hundred percent know what I’m doing in terms of my writing career. (To be honest, I never dreamed I would even have a “writing career.”) I do know that I’m always learning, I’m always trying to improve — in terms of my writing craft, the way in which I share my writing, and the ways I connect with readers and other writers.

I have written a weekly blog for over a decade. In those very early years, before I invested in my website (www.wendykennar.com), each week’s post was written about any and all subjects. Anything I felt like writing and sharing I did. It was random, and because of the lack of cohesiveness, I think it was harder to find readers who would subscribe and regularly read my posts. It was much more difficult to form a community back then. 

Then, I re-organized my blog and wrote about one of three B’s in my life — Books (because writers are also readers), Boys (I’m the mother of a son and a former elementary school teacher), and Bodies (I live with an invisible disability). 

I have since deleted the “Boys” section, because my son is almost an adult. I don’t write about him and our interactions and relationship in the same way. Plus, I haven’t been a teacher now for twelve years. 

And, in another move that is also related to learning and growing, I have started a Substack account. Some of my blog subscribers have signed up for my Substack, currently known as “Wendy’s Weekly Words.” (wendykennar.substack.com) But for the most part, my Substack subscribers and my blog subscribers function as two distinct groups. 

I would like to change that. Here’s how:

I will continue posting my weekly blog here at www.wendykennar.com . My blog posts will generally be focused on books and bodies. Each week, I’ll continue writing about something I have read or my experiences with a chronic illness, life with chronic pain, and/or living with an invisible disability. 

And, I will be writing a bi-weekly Substack (wendykennar.substack.com), which will not just be a copy of what I have up on my blog. (Which is the way my relatively young Substack has been used up to this point.) 

My bi-weekly Substack will now include:

–  links to my recent blog posts in case you missed them 

– a writing prompt

– a wondering (something I’m confused about or have questions about. Maybe you have the answers.)

– a recommendation (something I read or watched or listened to)

– and when I can, a couple of famous dates in history that are somehow relevant to my writing and what I share. 

That’s what I’m planning to do. 

Here’s what I’m asking of you, please:

If you haven’t already done so, please subscribe to both my Substack (wendykennar.substack.com) and Blog (www.wendykennar.com). If you already are subscribed at both places, please just let me know in the comments section on one of my sites. (It would be great if you also followed me on Instagram @wendykennar. That way you’re sure not to miss out on anything I write or share.)

Those of you who subscribe to both my Substack and Blog, will then have a chance to win a book in a drawing. Names will be placed into a hat and I will randomly draw one reader’s name. As a thank you, I will mail you a personalized copy of Chicken Soup For the Soul: It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas. (My story, “A Timeless Gift,” is included in this collection.)

October 2019

This is all new to me. I’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe I’ll need to make some changes down the road. But for now, we’re going to give this a try. I hope you will continue being with me on this journey. Living with a chronic illness and writing can both be pretty isolating. I hope you know how much I value your support, how much your being here with me really does help!

Sign up by next week’s blog post on Wednesday, December 17th. That way I can have the drawing on Thursday, December 18th, and I can get your book out in the mail on Friday, December 19th. 

After that you can expect regular blog posts each Wednesday morning. 

And the first issue of my bi-weekly Substack will go out on Sunday, December 28th. (And the next Substack will be in your inbox on Sunday, January 11th, 2026.)

Thank you, friends. Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting my writing. Thank you for supporting me.

Thankful for Memoirs

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Because November is National Memoir Writing Month and since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, this week’s blog post is dedicated to some of the memoirs I proudly count as part of my personal library. I think memoirs are vital to humankind. And I’m not just saying this because I write memoir and personal essay.

Memoirs are more than books — they are lenses, they are keys, they are light. They help us see, they open doors, they make visible what we didn’t notice and/or understand.

Readers of memoir gain insights and knowledge about situations and experiences they otherwise may never have known about. 

Memoirs promote empathy, allowing readers to get a closer look at diverse author backgrounds and life situations. 

Memoirs can inspire and motivate, comfort and reassure. Within its pages, a memoir speaks to a reader of shared challenges and journeys — you are not alone.

Consider this post, my heartfelt thank you note to the talented authors who bravely shared their stories with the world. 

Some of the memoirs I read this year include:

You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith

Your True Self is Enough by Susanna Peace Lovell

Glow in the F*cking Dark by Tara Schuster 

Suddenly Silent and Still by Nin Mok

In the photograph above, there are a couple of memoirs I purchased earlier this year but have not yet read:

26 Seconds: Grief and Blame in the Aftermath of Losing My Brother in a Plane Crash by Rossana D’Antonio and

Sit, Cinderella, Sit: A Mostly True Memoir by Lisa Cheek.

 And one memoir, The Taste of Anger by Diane Vonglis Parnell, I read last year when it was published. But, I remember reading early pages of Diane’s manuscript and am so very proud of Diane for getting her story out into the world, that I wanted to include her memoir in this list.

Friends, have you read any memoirs this year? I invite you to share the memoirs you keep thinking about, the memoirs you recommend to readers on a regular basis. I’m always adding to my want-to-read list and would love recommendations.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the books that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

107 Days — More Than Just a Book

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

When I click on the Dictionary app at the bottom of my laptop, and search the word book, here’s what I read: 

1. “A written or printed work consisting of pages glued or sewn together along one side and bound in covers.” 

2. “A literary composition that is published or intended for publication as a book.”

So, when is a book more than a book?

When it’s 107 Days by Kamala Harris. 

And purchasing the book did not mean visiting one of my favorite independent bookstores. Instead, I purchased a ticket for “A Conversation with Kamala Harris” at The Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles, which also included a copy of the book! (The event was held just a few days ago, on Monday, September 29th.) 

I attended the event with one of my closest friends which made it even more special. Before and after the discussion, my friend and I talked about what we already knew about the book, about the heartbreak of this last presidential election, about our concern/anger/frustration/sadness/dismay at the current state of our country. 

And then, up on stage, standing before us was Madame Vice President. She talked about why she chose to write the book, even sharing that she and her husband, former Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff, had never spoken about election night until she wrote about that night for this book. 

Completely unexpected!! -- The Former Second Gentleman graciously posed for pictures shortly before the conversation began.

I consider this book to be a historic document. A primary account of an unparalleled time in our country’s history. Many years from now, my copy of 107 Days will be passed down to future generations of my family. By then, I’m sure the book will have sticky notes on many pages. Maybe notes in the margins. Maybe a sentence underlined. 

Years from now, I’ll share my memories of this time. How close our country came to doing something groundbreaking, (or ceiling-breaking, I should say). Something already being done in other countries — electing a female to the highest office in the land. 

“Kamala Harris, for the people.” 

And Monday night the people in Los Angeles were there for Kamala Harris and her book. 

Love this photo on the back cover of the book!

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Suddenly Silent and Still

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I recently finished reading Suddenly Silent and Still: Finding Joy and Meaning Through Illness, a memoir written by Nin Mok. From the back cover: “In a life-changing instant, Nin is thrown into chaos by the onset of sudden hearing loss and violent vertigo.” 

Because Nin and I are Instagram friends, reading this book felt even more like a conversation between the two of us. This is not just a memoir written by some unknown author. This is the story of another woman, another mother, whose life was forever changed by a sudden illness.
 
My copy of Nin’s book is full of sticky notes. Because though our medical conditions vary, though our life circumstances differ, many of the emotions she wrote about really resonated with me. 
This week I’m pleased to share some of the excerpts that most touched me:

“I have no idea why I was certain my turn would come at the end of my life. I imagined being old and frail before discovering I had an incurable disease. I would then be afforded a moment of introspection before being shown the exit, like a happy-go-lucky partygoer who leaves when the music and fun are over. Never once did I imagine that I would have to stick around after the celebration for the long and arduous clean-up.”

“Jet and Jade were five and three when I got ill. They don’t remember their healthy mother, the one who chased them through the parks, raced them to the car, and sang aloud, albeit out of tune. They just know this mother. The one who struggled to make it through the day. Jet and Jade constantly needing my help and attention made my recovery more challenging, but at the same time, they made my recovery possible.”

“And what about all the other vital organs that I had only one of, such as the heart, liver, and brain? What if they suddenly failed too? My once safe world now felt fraught with unavoidable threats.”

“Why me? What did I do to deserve this?”

“My family relied on me as a co-breadwinner to keep a roof over our heads. This was a matter of survival. I was also our home’s central processor, who organised and coordinated our activities. Lives would fall into disarray if I remained incapacitated.” 

“It was this attitude that made me feel insecure about writing this memoir. I questioned whether my suffering was big enough, whether my misfortune was dramatic enough to warrant a book. Ridiculous, really.”

“Trauma has no size. Rather, trauma is like light, capable of filling the entire room regardless of its wattage.”

“I now lived in a world that was no longer made for me; it was made for the able. I no longer felt normal here.”

“The life I had planned, was looking forward to and counting on, was upended for real.” 

“Returning to work would have rubbed the comparison in my face. By keeping every facet of my life exactly as before, I would know for certain that my life had got worse. I would lead the same life, but now as a disabled person. Returning to work would make the downhill trajectory obvious.” 

“Young people were supposed to recover from illness, not remain ill indefinitely. Worse, I couldn’t rest as one might expect a sick person to. I was not retired; my children had not left home. I couldn’t curl up with a good book all day. I still had to put food on the table and my children through school, all while being sick.” 

“I could see the date creeping in from a distance. It marked the unhappy anniversary of my downfall. That date took the life I loved, chewed it up and spat back out something unrecognisable. It was the day I took a tumble and never stood back upright. That dreaded date will forever be remembered.”

“I no longer compared myself to the previous Nin, nor did I keep measuring up to her. I only cared about where I was now, and where I wanted to be, not where the former me wanted to be.”

“I went from feeling unlucky that this happened to me to feeling lucky that only this happened to me.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


What I Write and Why

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I am currently participating in a three-month (May1 – July 31) Mastermind program run by Dan Blank. This Mastermind is different than the one I wrote about in March. (If you missed that post, you can click here to read it.)

This Mastermind uses the ideas and information Dan wrote about it in his book Be the Gateway. I read this book a couple of years ago and wrote about it here. I’m re-reading the book, to coincide with our weekly topics. 

Why am I doing all this? Because I believe there is an audience for my memoir-in-essays. And while I continue to research publishing paths (so far, I have entered a couple of competitions which offer a publishing contract to winners), I want to make sure I’m as ready as I can be for that publication journey. I want my online presence — my website, my weekly blog, my Instagram account, and my as-of-now-unwritten Substack, to be as solid and welcoming to my readership as they can be. I want to make clear what it is I write and why I write it. 

With that in mind, this week I’d like to share with you, my dear weekly blog readers, something I shared with the Mastermind group just last week. The comments had involved thinking of our own missions and our creative work and what our creative work promises to others. I wrote:

“Dan, lots to think about here. As you spoke about the transformation our mission and our work promises something clicked for me. I was transported back in time, when I received my diagnosis, and later that day went home and Googled this rare autoimmune disease of mine. I found a handful to links. That’s it. I wanted to know someone else out there in this big world of ours was living with the same chronic illness and still fully living their life. I wanted to know I wasn’t going to feel sick forever. I wanted to know what happened next, after coming home with a name for the symptoms I had been experiencing. And I couldn’t find out any of those things. That is why I write what I do. That’s the transformation I hope to provide for my readers.”

And from that, I’m proud to share My Mission Statement with you — what I create and why:

“Everyone lives with pain and scars of some kind; some easily visible, some seemingly invisible. I write personal nonfiction to demonstrate the wide-ranging experiences of disability and to offer connection and support to others living with chronic illness and chronic pain.”  

Thank you, friends, for being on this journey with me! I welcome any feedback or comments you have. Please feel free to share.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


I Believe

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
My reusable coffee tumbler is decorated with stickers designed by Katherine Center.

I am in the middle of a three-month online program called The Creative Shift Mastermind with Dan Blank. (I have taken several webinars with Dan and always come away having learned something new to apply to my writing and how I share my writing.)

Each week throughout The Mastermind, we focus on a different aspect of our creative life. Recently, our activities centered on our “Creative Identity.” 

Taken from our syllabus:

“Define Your Creative Identity. Have confidence in your creative identity, and know how to talk about what you create and why. The result of this is your ability to share more frequently and authentically, and greater ability to engage others.” 

During one of my daily five-minute writing exercises, I wrote a series of “I believe…” statements that all had something to do with what I write, why I write, and why I share what I write. 

My dear readers, you are an important part of my writing. Therefore, for this week’s blog post, I would like to share my “I believe” statements with you. Thank you for your support and being with me on my writing journey.

I believe… (as it pertains to my writing):

I believe everyone is walking around with pain of some sort.

I believe everyone has scars, whether we can see them or not.

I believe writing is another way of teaching.

I believe writing is one way to help make the invisible visible.

I believe chronic illness can be lonely and isolating.

I believe writing is one way to find connection with others who “get it.”

I believe writing is a way to share our stories and our hearts and realize that we’re not alone.

I believe my story is worthy of sharing.

I believe I continue to teach through my writing.

I believe I have much to learn and writing helps me make sense of things.

I believe one way I sort things out, one way I figure out how I feel about things is by writing about it.

I believe my book is a book I would have loved to read when I first became ill.

I believe I don’t talk about my writing enough.

I believe kindness and compassion and patience are so very important.

I believe I have always been a writer.

I believe I will always be a writer.

Your True Self Is Enough

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I met author Susanna Peace Lovell at the 2024 Culver City Book Festival. We chatted — about her book and my teaching years. I was curious about her memoir and her experiences in the Los Angeles Unified School District as the parent of a child with Autism. 

During my twelve-year teaching career, I taught several students with Autism. If you don’t know much about Autism, this is what you should know — there is a wide-range of Autism Spectrum Disorders. Each child’s experiences living with Autism may be different. 

Ms. Lovell’s memoir Your True Self Is Enough: Lessons Learned on My Journey Parenting a Child with Autism is the book I wish I had read while I was still teaching. Simply because as a teacher, I was only given snapshots into the experiences of my students and their families. I didn’t always know what their educational journey had been like before they reached my classroom. (This is true for all my students and not just those living with Autism.) 

Your True Self Is Enough is honest and thought-provoking, and I imagine it is a comfort and useful resource for families who may be experiencing some of the same situations Ms. Lovell and her daughter A. experienced. 

Furthermore, you don’t have to be the parent of a child with Autism to read this book. You don’t have to be a teacher (or former teacher) to read this book. Because this memoir does what books are meant to do — provide comfort and insight, show us our shared humanity, and shine a light on a situation a reader may not have firsthand knowledge of. 

While I love the title, my favorite part of the whole book is the Forward. The Forward is a list of advice A. wanted to share with readers of this book. This list is powerful because it applies to everyone. 

So many parts of this book touched me. Because at its core, this memoir is the story of a parent who wants the best for their child. This is the story of a parent who doesn’t have all the answers (because no parent does). And, even if you’re not a parent and don’t work with children, this book is important to read. Because reading about other people’s lives helps readers develop empathy and compassion — two traits that are absolutely essential in our world. 

Here are a few of the passages that stood out to me:

“I tried to remind myself to keep my intention to enjoy all of my life — even the imperfections and hard parts. I knew that in some ways this might be the end of the world as I knew it, and I wanted to be ready to face that change with joy and peace. I wanted my journey with A. to be one where my ears and eyes would remain open and I would stay present. I knew that too often I was just focused on the future, and then I would have intense regret for not living in the moment.”  

“I was so fed up and frustrated, but I also felt guilty for feeling that way. I didn’t want to sound like a broken record, complaining and depressed all the time. I wanted to focus more on the positive things in my life. I wanted to relish all of my blessings.”

“It’s such a spiritual lesson for all of us: we all need to get to know and understand our whole selves before we can embark on meaningful relationships with others. But when our babies are little, we have to steer that ship for them, and make sure we are providing them with the time and space they need to learn about themselves. We have to make sure that, whatever their schooling path is, they are being honored and encouraged to find out who they truly are.”

“And finally, something clicked for me. The sky really was the limit for both of us as long as we could accept and love ourselves. I thought about all the years I’d spent trying to fix everything. Trying to fix A. Trying to fix myself. As I watched A. play with her doll, I realized that neither of us needed to be fixed. We were both whole and complete individuals, both on our own journeys in this life.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

The cover of Maggie Smith’s memoir is stunning, and the words inside are no less striking. You Could Make This Place Beautiful is a memoir written by a poet, meaning readers will encounter sentences and images that you’ll need to read more than once, just to soak in the beauty (or “savor the flavor” as we say in our family). This is a memoir with an unconventional structure, a memoir that gives readers a glimpse inside to the end of Ms. Smith’s marriage and the beginning of what comes next.


From the book flap: “With a poet’s attention to language and a transformation of the genre, Smith reveals how, in the aftermath of loss, we can discover our power and make something new. Something beautiful.”

Here are a few of the passages, that for one reason or another, I marked with a highlighter and sticky note. Some of these passages are beautifully written. Some passages resonated with me, though on the surface it would seem Ms. Smith and I lead very different lives. But that’s one of the reasons I enjoy reading memoir — I learn about another person while also learning about myself, because it really is true — what we, as humans, have in common is so much more than our differences.

“How I picture it: We are all nesting dolls, carrying the earlier iterations of ourselves inside. We carry the past inside us. We take ourselves — all of our selves — wherever we go.
“Inside forty-something me is the woman I was in my thirties, the woman I was in my twenties, the teenager I was, the child I was.”

“Being married isn’t being two columns, standing so straight and tall on their own, they never touch. Being married is leaning and being caught, and catching the one who leans toward you.”

“For most of my life, I’d been a planner — driven and organized in my work; wedded to a schedule as a parent. But both the divorce and the pandemic meant a loss of control. So many of the things I had planned for were no longer possible, and I had to let go. I loosened my white-knuckled grip on my life and instead of feeling panicked, I found myself being more playful, more spontaneous, less tethered to order for order’s sake.”

“What I want to remember about that time — and what I want my kids to remember — is unselfconscious joy, tenderness, and togetherness. I want them to remember that their mother was happy, not that she had dinner on the table at 6:00 every night, or that bedtime was always at 8:00. I want to remember all the things we did, not the things we weren’t able to do.
“Sometimes yes looks like reminding yourself of what is still possible.”

“I’ve wondered if I can even call this book a memoir. It’s not something that happened in the past that I’m recalling for you. It’s not a recollection, a retrospective, a reminiscence. I’m still living through this story as I write it. I’m finding mine, and telling it, but all the while, the mine is changing.”

“The way you’ll be remembered is the way you’re living now, I tell myself. If you don’t like it, change it.”

“I’ve tried to love them as if there is a right way. No, I’ve loved them without having to try at all, because I’m their mother, and the love is not work. Parenting is work: the cooking of meals, the washing of clothes, the tending of wounds, the taming of cowlicks, the helping with homework, the driving to soccer, the packing of lunches, the finding of missing things (water bottle lids, baseballs, library books, mittens), the consoling to sleep. The love? It’s not work.”

“How I picture it: We are nesting dolls, carrying all of our earlier selves inside us. I feel so full of the life I had before — the life I have already lived — how is there room for anything new?
“We feel and feel, and live and live, but somehow we’re never full. This life is elastic, impossibly elastic. There is always room for more experience. Our lives expand to accommodate anything.”

“ ‘Wish for more pain,’ a friend’s therapist advised, if you want to change. If you’re in enough pain, you won’t be able to continue living the way you’ve been living; you’ll have to do something differently. But be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it — and then what? Then the pain is yours. The pain is yours and it will change you.”

“Now I see the title as a call to action — a promise I’d made not only to this book, and to you, but to myself. A promise I intend to keep.” 

“I keep thinking that this story, this life, could’ve happened another way. In some parallel universe, maybe it did, but here it happened like this — or, rather, it’s happening like this. How will it end? I don’t know. Every ending is one of many possibilities, one of many unknowns. Every ending is secret until it happens.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

An Update on My Memoir

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I wanted to use this week’s blog post to give you all an update on my memoir.

I have been querying literary agents on-and-off since March. Some agents respond to your query with either a yes or no, while other agents will only respond if they are interested in reading more from you. I have received some form rejections as well as some very nice, encouraging rejections; however, no literary agent has said yes, or even a variation of yes — as in, I’d like to read more before making up my mind. 

Which means I now go to plan B — researching smaller publishing houses. These independent presses do not require an author to be represented by a literary agent and accept submissions from the writers themselves.

The bottom line is — I’m not giving up. I’m not stopping. I’m just changing course, because I truly believe in my book and I want to get my book into the hands of readers. 

You may remember my October post when I described my memoir and explained that it’s divided into three parts. (If you missed the post, click here to read it.)

The first piece in the first section is a Letter to the Reader. The letter explains why I eventually felt compelled to write my memoir. For several years I refused to write about my “medical condition.” Notice I used the word condition and not illness or disease. I didn’t think my autoimmune disease was important enough to write about. Surely other people dealt with more life-altering, more painful, more scary health issues. And while that’s definitely true, it doesn’t mean my experiences are any less important or any less book-worthy. 

So this week, I’d like to share a portion of my Letter to the Reader with you. You all are on this journey with me, and knowing you’re here, reading my work week after week, liking, commenting, sending me emails, supporting me is something I don’t take for granted. I appreciate you all. I hope you know that. 

From my Letter to the Reader:

“This book is deeply personal to me. It has lived in my head and my heart for years. I have created it with love and respect, for me — and for you. 
“I was thirty-four years old, a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a teacher, when I became ill. I didn’t comprehend what a rare, autoimmune disease diagnosis would mean. I didn’t realize my life would forever be changed.”

“The book you are reading is the book I wish had been available to me. It is the book I needed to read. 
“It is my hope that readers who don’t live with a chronic illness will finish this book with a different perspective, an adjusted way of looking at people. A bit more patience and understanding for others. A realization that you simply can’t know someone’s hurts just by looking at them.
“And for my readers who live with chronic illness and/or chronic pain and/or invisible disabilities, I sincerely hope that you read this book and feel a connection with my words. I hope, in these pages, you see a part of yourself, to the point where you can show an essay to a loved one and say, ‘Here, please read this. This is what I mean. This is how it feels.’ I hope, too, that reading this book brings you comfort in knowing you’re not alone. Many of us feel so desperately isolated with our medical struggles. It is an unbelievable comfort to find someone who ‘gets it.’ 
“I get it.”