Welcome to my open memoir blog. In this space, I will share the writing of what I hope to publish someday as an unusual memoir. Authors don’t typically write in public, baring imperfections of early drafts and engaging readers in the writing process . But I was inspired by my husband’s blogging his experience of writing his latest book on microfinance.
I was born in Saigon and immigrated to the United States as a child in 1975. I learned to speak English without an accent and have other markers of the model minority – Harvard and Hopkins degrees, medical training, a successful career. I’m a happily married urban dweller, and mother of two biracial boys. I vote reliably. This is the only book I ever hope to write.
I used to think of a memoir as the summation ledger for a life, where we line up debits (crazy families, disabilities, natural disasters) and credits (nurturing parents, natural talent and grit, or the kooky acquaintance who takes us on an adventure), and assess their net effects. I would write such a memoir knowing who the heroine will be at the end, before I type the first word, and merely work backwards to reveal how and when her parts developed and came together.
This + That – Those = Girl.
But what if all I know is the shell of a heroine, the thing labeled with my name, and not what all the pieces are or how they fit?
Girl = a2 + x – (32c)/b and Girl – 6 = (63 – e)/d3
Then the Girl is a puzzle, and maybe I can solve her through a memoir that tests many simultaneous equations.
Dissociation is a psychological phenomenon so common that it hides in plain sight. On any day, you might say that “your mind drifted away” and focused on something else even while you drove flawlessly down twenty miles of highway without remembering them. Or you self-gaze and say, “Oh, that’s the part of me that’s a six year-old,” after doing some mischief and enjoying it. This is normal.
At the other end of the spectrum, some heroines have what used to be called multiple personality disorder, and now is labeled dissociative identity disorder. This is the Many Faces of Eve, a freak show and a fascinoma. It derives from Sustained Trauma + Creativity, as a coping mechanism that can manifest as depression, forgetfulness, or bizarre behavior, and may go unrecognized for years.
In between these two poles is where I live, my insides a volatile jumble of fantasy, inherited traumas of generations, and tactile memories, but inching closer every day to normal.
I write in “chapterlets,” short bursts of association 2–4 pages long. I will post them in sequence, but they don’t form a tight narrative. That’s because I experience this memoir more as a series of dreams and poems than a linear history. Stay with me, and hopefully you will see the pieces falling into place. I’m inviting you on my exploration of my outer- and inner life. I would welcome your feedback and comments along the way.