LOCATING AN AUDIENCE is the ultimate chicken and egger of writing. Do you think about them before you write, as you write, or only after you write? These are questions I get all the time. And they may miss the mark. What would it do to your writing if you accepted the fact that no matter what the topic, a group exists that wants to read your work? It might be freeing, right? I always tell my students that there is an anthology out there looking for their work, but this time I’m going to let the remarkable Joely Johnson Mork tell you about about writing for an audience. Contributor to a new collection called The Zen of Midlife Mothering, Joely is the right writer for the job. And if her name looks familiar to you, it’s because she is the author of a piece I include in my book on writing memoir, a piece that has gone viral countless times. It’s the unforgettable List That Helps With Loss. Welcome back to The Memoir Project, Joely. It’s an honor to have you here.
Writing for An Audience
By Joely Johnson Mork
It’s true that writing, at its simplest, is a solitary endeavor. It’s you and the keyboard (or the pen), exploring uncharted territory. As a memoirist, however, writing can be more like charting unexplored territory.
This is where the danger lies: when we think that we are not only alone as writers, but as individuals living out our lives. To connect with readers, we must resist coming to the conclusion that we are anomalies — that what we experienced in life is so unusual that we can only scribble secretly in journals or write obscure blogs posts that get few (if any) hits. Instead, we must look closely to see where our worlds really do intersect with those of others. These others, I should mention, are probably also busily writing down the details of their journeys, thinking they are the only ones out there on the frontier.
What I’m trying to say is another truism of writing: There is almost no topic, written about with skill and honesty, which will not find an audience of like-minded readers. One way to launch an emerging topic or message is to have your writing included in an anthology.
In creating the new anthology, “The Zen of Midlife Mothering (Esssays from MotheringintheMiddle.com),” the first one written by midlife mothers, editor and writer Cyma Shapiro looked through nearly 570 essays to find “the best” stories regarding older mothering (first, last, or repeat-time), new older fathering, and the stories of people at mid-life, living with and caring for children.
I am one of those contributors and part of a growing tribe of women now finding ourselves mothers at a later age (42, in my case), who might have simply decided that our stories were not of interest to anyone else. In fact, there is a burgeoning group of midlife parents, as evidenced by the anthology, the blog, and other websites now targeting midlife parenting, and the readers who are eager for more. All of this energy makes writing about the relatively uncharted topic of midlife parenthood not only worthwhile, but positively attention-getting.
Here are some ideas for finding your tribe and becoming part of an anthology:
- Dig deep to find what makes you unique. We all play multiple roles in life, but some of our positions are more unusual or unexpected than others. Do some heartfelt brainstorming and make a list of the places where you stand out. Then consider writing about what it’s like for you to be a groundbreaker, a leader, or simply a loner in some way.
- Research others like you. Discovering a blog, book, Facebook page, or Meetup.com group focused on your obscure talent, challenge, or situation can provide leads for potential publication – as well as a connection to community.
- Consider contributing to or curating an anthology. Collections of memoir pieces have been popular ever since the first iteration of “Chicken Soup for the Soul” in 1993. Be on the lookout for calls for submissions for anthologies that highlight your niche. Search the Internet for “call for submissions” and “anthology” plus the topic you’re writing on.
The Things We Do For Love, an excerpt from The Zen of Midlife Mothering
By Joely Johnson Mork
I spent a big chunk of my 30s and the beginning of my 40s living in upstate New York. It was an old boyfriend who first summoned me to the Saratoga area from Philadelphia. We thought we could rekindle our once-soulmated high school romance by my joining his grownup life, but that spark sputtered out not long after I arrived. Instead, I wound up single again at age 36, with a new personal vow that I would never again move my life to follow a man.
After that reality check of a breakup, I found my way to the nearby city of Troy, where I finally discovered real work and connected with a sincere group of friends. It was also where I met my husband and (eventually) gave birth to my son.
Unlike most women I know, I never expected to marry or have a family. Growing up in a broken home and something about practicing the “engaged detachment” of yoga since the age of 18 had led me to feel pretty distant from those very human goals. But I did get married, and the man who ultimately changed my mind about that is younger than I am by more than just a few years. On a crisp September wedding day, I am proud to say I was still holding it together at 39, and he was a very fresh-faced 26. The great majority of the time, this age difference has no effect on our marriage or on our lives. But then, not long after our fourth anniversary, a recruiter made a phone call, and the wheels of change started turning.
With a mere five weeks notice, my husband was offered a job that promised to do great things for his still-blossoming career as a software engineer. The only catch was that the exciting new position required our relocation to Seattle, an area where he grew up and where his extended family still lives.
Now, I’m no stranger to big moves. When I was around my husband’s age, I moved myself cross-country and up and down the Northeast for work opportunities more than once. Every time it was an adventure, a monetary raise, and another rung up on the editorial ladder. That was my era of monk-like living. I didn’t own anything I couldn’t quickly jettison, and worked exclusively on a laptop computer that fit neatly into a messenger bag. I was intentionally single and blissfully childfree. My apartment-to-apartment maneuvers were quick and easy, and I moved on with mostly dry eyes.
By the time I hit 40, however, and had established myself as a successful freelancer, I thought for sure that I was done uprooting my life as a method of career development. But the fact was that I had married a man still in that early-career-phase where moving for work makes sense.
Living back in Troy, I had allowed myself to settle deeply into a community (making the connections I had avoided in the past), developing a yoga following, and even buying what had previously eluded me — an actual home of my own. All of this would have to be jettisoned if my husband was to accept the new position.
The real life lesson was, in part, in the challenge of marrying a younger man. With the job offer, it was clearly time for my husband to step forward in his work; it was certainly also an opportunity for my son to be surrounded by loving family he would otherwise see only rarely. To take advantage of these options meant it was again time for me to open myself up to unknown possibilities and follow a man into an unknown future. I wound up making the move as mindfully as I could, despite my reluctance and the tears that fell in abundance this time around.
In 2007, our wedding officiant spoke these words: “Marriage is a spiritual grinding stone. In choosing this particular person to make your life with, you are choosing to be affected. Each of you will be the means by which the other one grows.”
The concept of a “spiritual grinding stone” might sound a bit harsh, but it’s inarguably apt. All of our interactions — with friends, children, family, and especially spouses — have an impact; they “leave a mark,” so to speak. These encounters force us to step (or stumble) outside of our comfort zones. I had to make this move and see this life change as a chance to grow for the two people I love most in the world. At the time, I could not think of a better way to do that than by being the means by which my husband and my family could flourish, even though that process called for leaving a comfortable and familiar life behind and staying open to what the next one would look like.
Author’s bio
As a 46-year-old woman with a 3-year-old son and a 32-year-old husband, Joely Johnson Mork’s life often takes a backseat to the needs and life stages of the other people living in her house. Joely has a master’s degree in community health education and a certification in teaching yoga to people with cancer. Her son was born in 2010 after four miscarriages and a near divorce. A freelance writer and editor, her work has appeared in Prevention magazine and many other print and online publications. In 2011, she relocated to Seattle with her family, and she is still trying to find herself at home in the Pacific Northwest. Her excerpt is from The Zen of Midlife Mothering, an anthology compiled by Cyma Shapiro and published by Mothering in the Middle.
HOW TO WIN A COPY OF THE BOOK
I hope you enjoy Writing Lessons. Featuring well-published writers of our favorite genre, each weekly installment takes on one short topic addressing how to write memoir.
It’s my way of saying thanks for coming by.
Love the author featured above? Did you learn something in the how-to? Then you’ve got to read the book. And you can. I am giving away one copy, and all you have to do to win is leave a comment below about something you learned from the writing lesson or the excerpt. I’ll draw winners at random (using the tool at random dot org) after entries close at midnight Monday, February 10, right in time for the next installment of Writing Lessons.
Good luck!
Karen Jahn says
Though borrowed, that metaphor, the spiritual grindstone has been fully evoked as Joely Mork lays out her courageous choice. She contrasts her autonomous single life with the complex demands of her family life, dramatizing how the latter has transformed, enriched and challenged her life. To manage this concisely, the metaphor and her details ring true.
Joely says
Karen — yes! Little did I know, the “spiritual grinding stone” referred not only to marriage, but to family life as well. We could say the same about writing! Thank you so much for your comment.
Tracy says
Success comes on many fronts and over time. The joy of our vocations and avocations is that the outcomes are so unpredictable. An examined life allows us to see our path. Alleluia! Joely’s writing reveals her path and shows others, like me, the possibilities of our own. Isn’t she great?
Joely says
Tracy — thank you for your kind and insightful words. It’s a good reminder that examining our lives IS worth something; through reflective activities such as writing (I’m partial to memoir, and I have a suspicion Marion is, too) we may be able to detect patterns, anticipate (and maybe even avoid???) foibles, or simply enjoy the ride in a more aware manner. Thank you for commenting!
Jenny says
Beautiful piece Joely-can’t wait to read the rest!
Joely says
Jenny, I know you are a writer, too — not to mention a supermama — so I’m sure the anthology would ring many bells with you. Thank you for reading and commenting!
Star Fitzgerald says
That was lovely, Joely.
Joely says
Star, thank you so much for reading and commenting!
Katherine Stevenson says
This came at the perfect time for me! I am writing about my journey with my husband’s dementia and struggle thinking no one will be interested. I am now going to consider myself “a loner in some way.” Wonderful.
Your story sounds fascinating and I can’t wait to read it.
Thank you for the excellent ideas on finding my tribe!!
Joely says
Katherine — I think the best lesson I learned from being part of this anthology is exactly that “being a loner” actually means being part of a GROUP. As writers, honestly, I feel we have some kind of responsibility or at least opportunity to speak up for our “fellow loners (or whatever label you like). It’s like the dust speck in “Horton Hears a Who” (if you remember that poignant Dr Seuss tale) — we feel small when we are isolated, but together we can make a big noise and gain the benefits of being united. Thanks for your comment, and I wish you lots of productive work on your writing. You are certainly going to connect with others who are facing similar challenges and who will surely be very interested to read about your experience. Let the writing be a reason to stay strong through the hard times.
Lori Hackathorn says
Joely,
Reading your part is like having a cup of tea with you at the kitchen table: honest, descriptive, insightful, searching, reflective. You paint a picture and tell a human story while I admire the artestry of the weave.
Congratulations!
On your writing, your marriage, your son, your courage to say Yes! to life.
As always,
Lori Hackathorn
Joely says
Lori — Old friend! Thanks for reading and for commenting. I never, ever expected to find myself here — married and mommied — and I really appreciate the wild ride being described as “saying yes.” That made me smile!
Becky Livingston says
Hi Joely,
I commend your courage. Like you, I am still trying to find myself at home in the Pacific North West (Vancouver, BC) after living overseas for the past two years.
On a good note… you have one helluva football team :)
Joely says
Hi Becky — I’m not sure if it was/is courage that makes me plod on or if it’s something more like curiosity. It could also simply be the pull of the vortex! Also, the Pacific Northwest certainly is challenging when it comes to making connections, but YEAH! go Hawks! :-) Thanks for your comment!
Stacy says
Joely,
Each iteration of your story, from living, writing, and sharing it, enhances your understanding and appreciation. Additionally each reader experiences it through their unique filter and the story’s purpose exponentially brings good turn. You have certainly inspired me to stop listening to those negative voices in my head that say, “What can a woman who has taken 20 years off to mother have to say?” Thanks for the inspiration!
Joely says
Stacy — wow! I am so glad this post has had such a positive effect. I struggle with the same question daily — why bother? why write? — the writing always shows me the answer. Thanks so much for chiming in!
Deb Smith says
Moving is…tiring. But at least you knew someone on the other side of the move.
–djs
Joely says
Deb — moving is EXHAUSTING! Even more so with a houseful of accumulated (dare I say it?) accumulated crap AND a small person to drag along. But something about constantly being on the move in my past made me feel light and unaccountable. Now, I’m weighted down, but also anchored. It’s hard to remember this on a regular basis — the positive side of all the hard work that wifedom, motherhood, LIFE requires of us. Writing does help. I just have to remember to add it to the “to-do” list! Thank you for your comment, and stay warm up there, neighbor.
Susan Lawson says
…and now I miss you even more.
Pat says
Joely,
I’ve spent my entire adult life moving every few years, leaving one set of deepening emotional roots to establish another in a new place, changing not just residence or job, but often an entire circle of connections. Your thoughts about the spiritual grinding stone capture perfectly the experience and the impact of these moves, and have given me an entirely new way to think about how they have shaped all my relationships. Thank you so much for that! Wonderful!
And yes, moving is deeply exhausting, no matter the circumstances!
Pat says
Joely,
I’ve spent my entire adult life moving every few years, leaving one set of deepening emotional roots to establish another in a new place, changing not just residence or job, but often an entire circle of connections. Your thoughts about the spiritual grinding stone capture perfectly the experience and the impact of these moves, and have given me an entirely new way to think about how they have shaped all my relationships. Thank you so much for that! Wonderful!
Joely says
Dearest Susan — I miss you too! Thanks so much for reading and commenting. It means a lot to me!
Joely says
Pat — When I was in the process of leaving Troy for Seattle, a longtime yoga student of mine (and very wise woman) advised me not to stay “homesick” for too long. She had also moved around often (because of her spouse), and told me she had regretted all the time she spent angry or displeased by being uprooted yet again. I think of her words a lot, but still find it hard to re-plant myself this time. I am finding my way, however. Tomorrow I am teaching yoga to a new group of women, and on Saturday I will be attending a popular writing workshop here in the Fremont neighborhood. Gratitude is a popular catchword/movement these days, and I will admit one of my goals this year is to do more thankfulness and a bit less regretfulness. We’ll see where it leads me. Best to you, and thank you for adding your voice to this post.
Pat says
Perhaps its not so much about pulling up the emotional roots with each move, but letting them become intermingled with the new ones we grow at each place along the road. The yoga class and workshop are that new growth adding to (vice replacing) the old.
While it is important to have a sense for the patterns that the “grinding stone” leaves on us, we have to appreciate that we are part of the making of those patterns on others — not just our family or close friends, but everyone we allow ourselves to have a substantive exchange with, wherever we go.
Joely says
Pat — you are SO RIGHT. I often let myself slide into that “aloneness” where I think that I am the only one being buffeted about by the winds of change. It’s so good to remember — and be reminded — that we are also here to help/change/have an effect on other people. Thank you!
ChadM says
Joely – You inspire me!
Joely says
Chad — I am flattered by your comment! Thank you so much for reading and chiming in.
Karen Ouse says
As another middle-aged mama who is familiar with the yin and yang experiences of motherhood, I salute you for the amazing way you are rising and meeting what has been presented to you. I CAN’T WAIT to read more! Love you Joely.
Joely says
Karen — You know exactly what the struggle can be like, and you are an example of finding ways to stay engaged, keep your attitude up, and be in the moment (with ourselves as well as with our children). Thank you so much for commenting! Love you too!
Camar Diaz says
Hi Joely,
I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your writing style. Every sentence seemed so purposeful, so telling. Would love to read more.
Joely says
Camar! Thank you so much for your kind words — a writer never really knows how her words actually “feel” to the reader, so I appreciate your feedback. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!
Shannon Gorman says
This approach turns my cynical “You are unique… just like everyone else” perspective on its head. I always hesitated to share my stories not because I suspected no one could relate, but because I worried that too many could, that they were not “unique” enough to be interesting. How funny, the stumbling blocks we put in front of ourselves. Perhaps now I’ll be inspired to share my musings and experiences, the latest one being (tentatively titled) “Confessions of a New ‘School Mom,'” prompted by registering my first daughter for kindergarten, finding myself abandoning long-held assumptions about PTOs and becoming “that mom,” happily.
Joely says
Dear Shannon! I love it that this post did something to burst your “no one wants to hear what I say” bubble — let yourself speak, mama! You are most definitely part of a group that needs its voice to be heard, despite all the demands that motherhood (and fulltime work!) places on us. So glad you read and commented!
Diane Christin Zenchenko Esser says
I was intrigued by how Joely deftly carved her journey to draw our interest. Getting to the finish line of our written work is one part of the journey, but finding the audience is the critical component. The information she passed to us, espcially “Be on the lookout for calls for submissions for anthologies that highlight your niche.” was a part of the critical component for me, for past works, and future works. Thank you Joely!
Joely says
Diane — It’s a good sign when writers start thinking about their audience. To me, that means the work wants to be read! I hope you find your “tribe” and possibly a place in an anthology. Thank you for your comment!
Adrien says
Joely,
It’s great to be reading your work for the first time! You’ve captured here some the things I so appreciate about you: honesty, clarity, perspective, compassion and the tenacity to keep at the hard work of the examined life.
I’ve taken away a precious reminder here that my perceived alone-ness can actually become a powerful connection and give back to others if I keep at the work of finding and creating community here. You know I empathize deeply with the challenges of moving; I’m going to keep the images of new roots interwoven with old in my mind from the comment above as I take your good advice to make time to write and reach out in spite of other habits of mind. Thank you so much for sharing this! I can’t wait to read more.
Joely says
Adrien, Your comment really touched me. The theme of “new roots” is truly powerful, and I would love to read some of YOUR writing! thank you for reading….
Kerry Kijewski says
I love to read anything and everything on memoir writing. This one woman’s telling of the struggles and decisions in her life which helped shape her are universal yet personal at the same time. Extremely relatable.
Joely says
Kerry –Thank you for relating! the other essays in the anthology are all unique, and all also universal at the same time. I highly recommend you check it out!
Allison says
I don’t know if I qualify for being a midlife mother- I had my daughter at 36. And, actually, just like you, I never included plans for marriage or children (parents divorced when I was 7, felt I was too screwed up and I knew I wanted to be a writer and have the freedom to live a life to write about (and boy, did I-part of it is what my memoir in progress is about).
Whereas your husband is quite younger, mine is 23 years older-he’s 70, I’m 47 and we celebrated 13 years in November. I also love the quote about marriage. Both of us have changed and grown and it’s because of the other.
As I write my memoir, I too am looking for my tribe. Music, loss, acceptance and redemption are the recurring themes in the book, and I’m not sure where to begin. I’ll get there eventually. Thanks for the post. Very timely .
Joely says
Allison — you have (yet another) wonderful, unique as well as universal, perspective to write from. You are definitely not alone in delaying marriage and motherhood, and in marrying an older spouse. I, for one, would love to hear what you have to say! WRITE ON. Thank you for reading my words and for your comment.
Elizabeth Woodbury Kasius says
Marriage as Spiritual Grinding Stone–well said. We have a painting from a wonderful artist that depicts 2 evergreens standing next to each other (at something of an admiring angle) but on their own separate perches, as if coming up from a canyon. It just struck me the other day that it’s my vision of marriage, something to aspire to with my husband.
Thanks for sending this Joely!
Joely says
Dearest Elizabeth — I love the description of your painting. A wonderful image for a marriage, as long as both trees agree to the respectful distance/admiring angle. xoxoxox