
“The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion. The tunnel is.” ~Unknown
In this society of ours, parents teach their children to do, to perform, to produce. We learn that to be adult, we need to be “productive members of society.” At social gatherings, more often than not, the first question among strangers is “What do you do?”
My first memories include identifying so deeply with my movie director father that when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always replied, “A writer and director.”
Then life happened, and I spent decades acting out the painful and abusive relationship I had with my mother. Although I wrote almost daily, my life settled into a hand-to-mouth survival existence that had nothing to do with writing.
A string of abusive relationships with men took the place of my unresolved relationship with my mother as I continued to act out the trauma of my youth in a repetitive cycle, all the while trying to keep a roof over my children’s heads and food on the table.
All thoughts of any kind of career fell away and were replaced by anxiety, depression, and the urgent need to pay this month’s bills.
When my mother died, much to my surprise she left me everything she had in the world, and I was able to buy a home and live for several years without worrying about money.
During that time, I quit my job and started to write in earnest. My goal was to publish a memoir about growing up in a motion picture family in Hollywood and share the lessons my childhood taught me about love.
These are the vastly over-simplified facts of my life. Less obvious was my growing self-identification as “writer” and a subtle yet mounting despair as time passed and I struggled to find a publisher or an agent to represent me.
Recently, in a rare moment of absolute clarity, I realized that I had come to identify so deeply with the book and the rich and enviable career of my wonderful father that I saw both as extensions of myself. (more…)
























