I was listening to an interview with Marlon James, the Man Booker Award winner for 2015, and was stunned to find out his book was rejected over 70 times.
In response to the interview’s question about advice for aspiring writers he ended with: “remember you are doing good work and you have something to say.”
Something to say…
Something worth saying…
A personal story. Unique to you. Something only you can tell.
But what happens when you can’t tell it? What happens when it is so personal, so painful that you can’t bring yourself to do it?
My wife has often urged me to write about my experiences as a BBW…who most of her life just felt big…no, let’s call it what it is fat and ugly.
I just can’t do it though. I’d love to, I can see how my story could impact other women/girls who plow through the world that is set against them and cutting them down at every turn…I just can’t. I’ve tried, but I’ve spent so much of my life being the comedienne I can’t stand still long enough to write down the real me.
In the same day, I heard this excerpt from Hasan Minhaj’s “Homecoming King” (a theater piece)…and was nearly moved to tears by the utterly devastating story he tells about being invited to Homecoming, while laughing my head off as well.
So, I know it can be done…but why can’t I do it?