Writing About Family

This is not advice

When I began The Man Who Wouldn’t Die, it was something I wrote for myself. I did tell my brother what I was doing because he was the only person who I felt had experienced what I had, although, not exactly, of course.

In talking to other people about writing, and listening to other writers, the consensus is you have to write what you know and what you feel and what you think, consequences be damned. Otherwise, you’re writing for an audience that will never be happy and you will not be either. I’ve tried to show my own truth and perception here, but certainly there are family members who have not been in love with every post. It’s time to switch gears. Kind of.

Even though I’m about to go super personal, someone will always say, “I remember it this way.” Which, great. I look forward to reading your substack in response.

I hope you will join me because I have some stories to tell. Some stories that are probably not something you have heard before. Or, I hope you haven’t. I am moving on to stories which will probs fill in some blanks and are my own recollections, experiences, and the story of a young type-A life in rural Oklahoma.

I’m starting this story as my entire family is in New Orleans, spreading Burl’s ashes around town. It is a real ending. Which means, a real beginning. I hope you’ll come along for the prequel. But I understand if your interests lay in how one says goodbye to a parent, rather than how one got here.

Tune in to my Award Winning substack, coming up next week in this same space, but with a different name. I think that those of you who could relate to how I felt about my father, and those of you who could honestly, not, will both find a lot to dig into and enjoy. Thank you for being here, no matter what camp you may be a part of.