I had only wanted to write speculative fiction when I first started writing, and somehow ended up writing about tough topics. After the completion of each book or the start of a new contract, my editor would ask if there was anything that I could add about my personal life. And my response was always silence. I don’t want to write what hurts or dig into my childhood or display my scars.
A book of mine was released recently, my name faded into the background, and my mother’s words echoed when I saw the physical copies: “Your work is your face.” She used to say that to me when I sloppily folded clothes or left speckles of food on a dish. I know what she meant in her FOB Filipino ways. Your work represents your work ethic, so do a good job. The literalness of the words also added to the impact that made the visual sting. I already feel invisible.
I couldn’t possibly cover my childhood or my teen years in a single blog post, nor do I have any desire to let the world know of every traumatic event I’ve experienced. But maybe that’s part of the problem of what gets in the way, what blocks me. My past is an issue for me. So much of who I am remains only spoken about among my closest friends, because of the vulnerability I feel. Is there empowerment in vulnerability? I dip my toes into the pool wondering if I’ll drown or float. Besides, who really cares to know anyhow?
What am I rambling on about? I’ve been thinking a lot lately about writing a memoir or two, about what shaped me as a child, what informed my teen years, because I don’t want my past to be an issue for me anymore.
To answer my editor’s question…
My father was an OG: a gang banger from La Loma (Lomita Bakers), a drug addict, a drug dealer, a convict, and a Vietnam Veteran. He was in and out of prison his whole adult life and suffered from PTSD.
My Hi/Lo books I was contracted to write are fiction. They are not directly based on anyone or any experience. But the emotions wrapped up in these fictional stories come from my experiences.
My latest book, The Dragons Club, is about a teen girl dealing with a drug-addicted sister. I felt weird sharing the book among my friends and family. Emma, the character in the book who is addicted to drugs, is purely fictional, despite my family issues. If I had to choose who she is most like in my real life, the answer would be me. Simultaneously Emma and Faith, as a writer, I placed myself in both shoes.
Below is a photo one of my brother’s found while watching YouTube videos. We believe the man in the photo below, the one in the middle, is my father. We know he did time in Tehachapi around the same time, though it hasn’t been confirmed. I sent an email to Prison Chronicles, hoping they can give me more information.
Cyn B 