Have I Lost My Mind? A Life In Three Acts

I spent this past weekend at a writers conference in Niagara Falls where I met three amazing ladies who made what could have been a painful experience, fantastic.

Part of this conference was to pitch stories to agents and editors. Many already know that I've been writing a novel for a little over five years now and I've been revising it as a part of my MFA at Fairfield University. So, I figured I would pitch it and see if anyone was interested.

Meanwhile, I've had requests from friends, family, and acquaintances to write a memoir. This is something I've avoided for years, mostly because this isn't going to be a Snooki kind of memoir. This will be a life changing; went to hell and came back; dear god I cannot believe I lived - type of memoir. And I'm not talking about only one instance of dear god I cannot believe I lived, I'm talking about multiple. But I'm a relative unknown. I haven't won a Pulitzer. I didn't discover bread. I don't have millions of adoring fans.

To appease those who have requested that I write the memoir, I decided to pitch both the novel and the memoir. I figured, I'd prove that I was right and no one would want to read such drivel.

I sat down with the first editor, a senior editor with one of the biggest publishing houses in the US and told him I had a novel and a memoir and then asked which one he wanted to hear about. He said both. So, I started with the novel:

"I have a com­pleted 90,000 word novel entitled THE MEMORY KEEPER, comparable to LIFE OF PI meets THE YEAR OF FOG. Set in Smithfield, NJ in the 1970s, THE MEMORY KEEPER tells the story of Amanda Carmichael, whose life has been shaped around the loss of her mother, Jillian Carmichael, a day Amanda blurrily remembers and yet whenever she tries to delve into the details, she is blocked by migraines. Her father loses his job forcing them to move, bringing the opportunity to start new lives. When her father announces that he wants to remarry and Amanda realizes she can no longer recall the sound of her mother’s voice or her gentle touch, Amanda runs away to discover the truth about her mother’s disappearance only to find out that she has had the answers all along.

Former Features Editor for the "Picolata Review", my fiction has been in publications such as "The StraightJackets Magazine". I’m the former President of Pennwriters and regularly speak at writers conferences. I am currently obtaining my MFA from Fairfield University. No stranger to the spotlight, I was a dancer and co-host for Dance Party USA and Dancin’ On Air."

The editor politely asked me a few questions and then requested to hear my pitch for the memoir:

"In the summer of 1981, I died at the age of nine. Not brain dead, that would have taken a few more minutes, but the rest of me died on an operating table while four doctors labored over my pudgy body in an attempt to stop and remove an infection.

My memoir, BREATHE, follows my childhood in Camden, NJ, the most dangerous city in the United States, where I’m raised by my mother, a paranoid schitzophrenic who couldn’t believe that my 105 fever was real and my father, a smart alec, self destructive radio personality who tried to protect me but at the same time needed to regain a sense of normalcy, typically by ignoring the chaos within our home. You’ll follow my journey as I fight for my life and come out the victor with the help of friends, family, and a whole lot of hope."

Again, he asked a few questions and then I was told that the head of the program would inform those lucky individuals who would be asked to submit their work to the senior editor.

Great! Excellent! So, I moved onto the next editor. Again, someone from a well established publishing house. I made the same offer: Would you like to hear one? Both? She asked to hear both and then asked for samples from both. Next, the agent. Again, I posed the same question: One? Both? He wanted to hear both and then he asked for partials from both.

Later, I was informed that the first editor from the uber publishing house wants both the memoir and the novel. I realize I should be excited, ecstatic, thrilled. I am freaked out.

Counter intuitive, right? Well, understand that I never, ever thought anyone would want to read my memoir. I'm no Snooki. I'm not an A list celebrity. I'm no Einstein. I figured I would pitch the memoir, they would laugh at me or politely tell me to screw off. Instead, they were all interested in it. I cannot believe anyone would want to read about my childhood. I guess I need to get over it because I have a lot of work to do. I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I won't send these to the agents or editors until I feel like I've produced quality pieces.

And then there's the other part of writing a memoir: delving into the past, the emotions associated with events that some would like to forget and others have forced themselves to forget. The dredging of painful memories and telling them with truth, honesty, sincerity.

Taking a segment of my life and focusing on one theme in order to do what? From a publishers perspective - to sell books. From my perspective - with the desire that my story can give others hope. That someone, somewhere will read my story and realize that their lives are wonderful and they should cherish each moment, especially those we get to spend with such great friends as my three co-horts at the conference.

Do I have a fulfilling end to this blog post? Right now, no. But talk to me in a few months and we'll see what's transpired regarding the novel and the memoir. I could still be right ...

Update: While researching, I discovered my mother passed away on January 15, 2010. She died on her birthday at the age of 69. My cousin was supposed to tell me if anything happened to my mom. I guess my cousin forgot to call.