Vulnerable

Over the weekend, a friend said to me, “That’s so brave, to put all that out there, I’d be afraid to be so vulnerable.”

Her words have stayed with me. When I was reviewing the page galleys for Unavailable, it suddenly struck me just what I was putting out there. A window into my darkest moments, an unobstructed view of my alcoholism and drug addiction, a not too pretty picture of a hedonistic life I’d been living for some time.

Much of my emotional life has been scarred by a marked fear of what other people think of me. And now, even bits of my sex life are boldly typed among the pages of Unavailable. Can I trust that the readers will believe I have changed? Does it matter?

Of course now, the book is out there. Being read, consumed, judged. Am I being judged alongside it?

So now I wax philosophical on the vulnerability of the memoir author. The nakedness of my activity, the opaqueness of my vivacity.

2 thoughts on “Vulnerable

  1. Congratulations on the publication of your book! It does take a brave person to write, let alone publish, an honest, revealing memoir. But I like to think most readers of memoirs are like me and are compelled to the genre in order to better understand and appreciate different perspectives, choices, and experiences. My hope is you’ll find that understanding and appreciation rather than judgement.

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