Guest post from amazing author friend Kristen Lamb
Back in 2002 when I finally made the decision to become a novelist, I had no idea what kind of a personal journey I’d signed up for. In fact, that could make an entire book—okay, series of books—in and of itself.
When I started writing, I was not a very nice person. I was angry, self-centered, undisciplined, and immature. But I did have great hair so it wasn’t a total loss.
In short? I was a jerk.
Often though, the trouble with jerks is they are the only ones unaware they are jerks. Kind of like that movie The Sixth Sense.
I see jerks. Everywhere. Walking around like regular people. They don’t see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don’t know they’re a jerk.
Yeah, that was me. It was everyone else. Everyone else was responsible for ***insert emotion/problem/drama here***.
And maybe this isn’t a very useful post for you because you’re reading Rachel’s blog and that means you’re all wonderful, perfectly adjusted individuals who rescue kittens when you’re not knitting onesies for cold baby goats. But maybe what I have to say today can help…a friend 😉 .
Shame
I did not come from a healthy family. Scratch that. I was born in The Jerry Springer Show Reality TV Edition. As a kid, I didn’t know it was not normal to have screaming fights lasting hours every day. That sane people didn’t kick in doors, throw things or constantly threaten a) abandonment b) suicide c) divorce.
As a kid, I only partially grasped why I wasn’t allowed to play with other kids in the neighborhood. I was a straight A student and a teacher’s dream pupil…but every parent on the street walled their kid off from me like I carried Ebola.
Eventually, my parents divorced and my father decided it would be fun to just you know, disappear for two years without so much as a word as to whether he was even alive. Child support?
That’s funny.
My poor mom did the best that she could, but by the time I hit middle school we lived on spaghetti because it was cheap and lived in unending fear the power would be cut off. I wore thrift store clothes and Toys for Tots supplied my Christmas gifts.
I got bounced home to home and in the process switched schools a total of ten times; five times just in high school. And it was strange. It was like every school came standard with a gaggle of Queen Bees WASPs ready to skewer me with their stingers over and over and over.
What was even worse was many teachers (probably Queen WASPs in their high school heydays) joined in the “fun” of tearing me apart. In fact, I had nightmares about one particular teacher well into my 30s.
No place. No person was safe.
The harder I tried to appease the WASPs in school and home, the more I was stung. I was a bleeding ruined wreck.
I’m fairly certain to this day that I am the reason for the current Texas truancy laws. I’d skip and take refuge in the library. Books didn’t care that I only owned two pairs of pants and four shirts.
Eventually, I dropped out of high school…twice.
The only thing that kept me from getting a GED and being done with it was I’d always wanted to be in the military. I longed for structure and order and hell I was used to being yelled at and called worthless. Perfect fit!
But, in the 90s, you couldn’t get into the military without an actual high school diploma, so groans I had to go back. I was nineteen years old in an English class of fourteen-year-olds. Talk about a slice of humble pie.
Yet, to survive, I learned two key defense mechanisms. One, I became funny. Being funny works, it’s sort of like peeing yourself so no one eats you. High five! My possum friend! But when funny wouldn’t work? I became MEAN.
I’d always wanted to be a writer from the time I hadn’t even nailed down the entire alphabet song. I was good with words and after years of using them to flatter and pacify? I realized that didn’t work on bullies.
So I whipped out my whetstone and sharpened my words to a razor’s edge that rivaled any Samurai sword.
I truly believe that those who are born to be writers—good writers—have an almost preternatural power for observation. We very literally see what others don’t or even can’t. This meant I could meet a person (enemy) and instantly know every perfect pain point.
Thus, when I went for someone, I didn’t waste time. I went for their heart, for the thing they thought they’d buried so deep, hidden where no one could see.
And I’d carve it out and show it to them—still beating—in my hand.
If my tormenters were unwilling like me, they would by God fear me.
Of course, while this worked to make the WASPs keep a nice and respectful distance, it also isolated me. Regular, nice people also were afraid of me and in my mind? I didn’t care. Being alone was safer. People always left anyway. Best not to care.
What About Shame and Writing?
So why am I talking about all of this other than hey, FREE THERAPY!
When I became a writer and my goal was to become a novelist, I had to face who I’d become. Being a jerk made me a lousy writer.
My first novel (which of course I thought was perfect) sucked. But why was it so bad? Okay, that is actually a loooooong list. But the main reason is that all my characters were “perfect.”
They were everything I had always wanted to be. My MC was tall and beautiful and eerily resembled Angelina Jolie and she had mad fighting skills and spoke 42 languages and Zzzzzzzzzzz.
Over and over I tried new stories and same deal. Why were all my stories boring the paint off the walls?
The reason? All great stories are birthed from SHAME.
I finally understood that I’d fashioned so much armor around myself cobbled together with self-delusion, B.S. glitter and flat out lies, that I couldn’t be vulnerable. I didn’t know how to be.
Until I acknowledged I was a jerk, I couldn’t start understanding WHY I was a jerk so I could heal those parts and then…change.
I didn’t know I was a jerk because I was deeply and profoundly ashamed.
Fiction as Therapy
Readers don’t connect to perfection; they connect to flaws. We aren’t telling stories to perfect people, we are telling them to lost and broken and hurting people who can pick up a book and by GOD at least there is one frigging place in the world where the good guy wins and bad people get what they deserve.
We writers must understand who we really are if we want to resonate with readers.
We are dealers of justice.
Because here’s the deal. We live in reality where the popular girl who tormented the poor kids in high school didn’t get what she deserved and never will.
No. She married rich. Then as a “stay at home mom”—with a full-time housekeeper and au pair—went on to start a home-based company selling non-GMO organic vegan nail decorations made from fair trade coconut oil.
And she made millions, because of course she did!
She spends every Spring Break in Vail, summers in Europe, and never loses one moment of sleep over the young girls she emotionally ravaged, has not a singular care for the self-esteems she plundered. She doesn’t even recall her victim’s names just hopes the pathetic little lemmings buy her nail wraps.
We all know villains like her exist in real life, certainly did in mine. And in real life, she gets away with her crimes…but in fiction? This is the place she has no power. Her looks, money and family connections mean nothing. In story, she can be held accountable for what she’s done.
But here we are talking plot. Now? Character arc.
What about the protagonist? Because a protagonist ambushing the mean girl of high school and feeding her through a wood chipper FARGO style, while morbidly interesting, is not a story.
The story is always with the hero. Outward defeat of said villain is not enough. That is only half of the recipe for a perfect story.
How does the protagonist face this villain and finally change? How can she evolve to a point where she can finally say that crucial line?
You have no power over me.
She must not only defeat the villain, she must also face and defeat her own shame.
She must do the very thing that all of us—in real life—must do to find peace. To heal.
Facing Shame & Taming the Jerk
When I came to a point I realized I needed to face and explore my shame in order to write something people might like to read? I will admit it. I was a total chicken and too broke for “real” therapy. So I did what many writers do, I put it into story.
I just released my debut fiction The Devil’s Dance and it IS a fiction. The plot is, at least. But I used my MC Romi to work through a lot of places where I felt shame, in order to expose, then overcome, them.
Like Romi, I grew up ashamed of where I’d come from, desperate to fit in, to be accepted. No matter what I achieved, I felt like a fraud, a poseur.
There is a real reason I use a lot of Breakfast at Tiffany’s references in the book. Holly Golightly in the iconic Turner Classic beginning is standing in front of Tiffany’s staring at all the beautiful things she desires. But she’s an outsider looking in through an impenetrable wall of glass. No matter what she looks like on the outside, it is the inside that must change. Romi’s journey is the same.
And Romi’s journey looks a hell of a lot like mine sans drug cartels.
But a really interesting thing happened when I wrote this story. I learned a lot about me. By placing my shame in a fictional setting, it was less frightening. It lost its power over me. I found that as I understood Romi, I understood me. I began healing and one day realized my armor was falling away like the husk of a cocoon no longer needed.
Because fiction helped me face shame, it helped me learn to be vulnerable and in being vulnerable I became a better writer and a better person.
Soooo….
I was joking earlier about y’all being perfect, though I am pretty sure some of you really are knitting onesies for cold baby goats. I finally mastered the potholder.
I do know many of you read this blog because you have your own wounds, probably a lot of them far worse than mine. Yet, I think we can keep going around the same mountain over and over. If we miss the linchpin of why we’re hurting—SHAME—we can’t heal. It’s putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound and we’re walking around bleeding all over the place with no clue why we’re drawing sharks.
All I can say is that the road isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. And I have a secret to tell you: you’re much stronger than you realize 😉 .
Kristen Lamb is the author of the top resource for author branding in the digital age, Rise of the Machines–Human Authors in a Digital World. She’s also the author of the #1 best-selling books We Are Not Alone–The Writer’s Guide to Social Media and Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Writer. Her blog was named as Writer’s Digest Magazine’s Top 101 Websites for Writers.
Kristen has now returned to her first love, fiction, and her debut mystery thriller, The Devil’s Dance is positive proof she watches way more Discovery ID than is probably healthy.
Follow Kristen!
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Twitter @KristenLambTX
Richard Pieters says
May 21, 2017 at 7:20 pmI love this post. I’ve read many of Kristen’s posts on her own blog, but this allows me to know so much more about her. AND, it’s a valuable post for writers in general. She says go deep, get to the places that hurt, and use them, own them. We all have places of shame. Deep, painful places. Thanks Rachel for having Kristen share such insight.
Kristen Lamb says
May 22, 2017 at 8:01 amYes, I started this guest post and was more on the lighter side, but it didn’t feel right so deleted the whole thing and started over. Decided to be even more “real”. I was stunned how after all these years I still felt so much anger when I thought of those times of being so powerless. I’m not where I want to be but not where I used to be for sure.
Yet, in the end I am grateful for my personal “villains.” They propelled me to keep at it and also, I think they help me connect with so many people who were victims as well and writing has given me a way to give a sense of justice through story (which can make a story so satisfying).
I am really happy you enjoyed the post. After writing it I needed a nap. But I have improved. A few years ago I would have needed a drink and then probably begged Rachel to delete it and let me go back to my fluff piece, LOL.
Thank you so much for your faithful years of generous support and love (((HUGS)).
heidi says
May 21, 2017 at 8:31 pmSo open I loved it. It is so very hard to vulnerable and leaves you exposed. I realized later in my life that I had the same problem. I had control issues and so much anger, the very things I was trying to escape. I think your story will help a lot of people, thanks for sharing.
Kristen Lamb says
May 22, 2017 at 8:03 amFunny how us damaged people can mistake love and control. For years I believed I was “helping” that I was “loving” others. Only when I began to heal did I see that controlling wasn’t loving, it was a defense mechanism against being hurt.
Thanks for the comment and thrilled you enjoyed it…cuz I was feeling a tad naked after all of this *searches for spiritual Spanx to smash all the sh*t back in* LOL.
Tui Snider says
May 21, 2017 at 9:19 pmOoh! I met Kirsten Lamb in person at the DFW Writers Conference a few years back. She is amazing, funny and smart! When I saw this post zip by on Twitter, I just had to pop over and read it even though I was about to log off for the night.
Yup! Kirsten’s post was just as good as I thought it would be and I’m only annoyed that I read it so fast and now I’m done. So… I’m gonna RT this puppy and go share this with my online writing/reading group on Facebook. Oh, and I’m off to check out Kirsten’s novel on Amazon now, too. Whee! 😀
Rachel Thompson says
June 3, 2017 at 8:50 pmHi Tui! So awesome you met Kristen in person. She’s wonderful.
Thank you for sharing with your group and online. And I bought her book, too!
Bob Mueller says
May 21, 2017 at 11:17 pmKristen, thanks so much for sharing this with us. So much good advice, both for writing and for life. It takes a lot of courage to share that kind of stuff, and you’re both right.
This is where the good stuff comes from.
K.B. Owen says
May 22, 2017 at 10:09 amKristen, congrats on your debut fiction! As you know, I’ve been reading your blog for years and following/stalking/conversing with you nearly as long. This post is so open and authentically you, I feel as if I’ve gotten to know you even better. I’m touched by your willingness to be vulnerable and share this.
Best of luck with your new release!
~Kathy
Kathryn Jane says
May 22, 2017 at 10:22 amLoved this blog so much because it speaks to me 🙂 … Shame and vulnerability remind me of my favorite book, Daring Greatly, by Brene Brown. It gave me the boost I needed to be free, and inspired several of my books, so I really understand where you’re coming from, Kristen!
Heather Tuba says
May 22, 2017 at 4:16 pmI loved this quote: “I truly believe that those who are born to be writers—good writers—have an almost preternatural power for observation. We very literally see what others don’t or even can’t. ” My husband says I have an uncanny ability to observe people and remember details about them, like 30 years later. I can spot a person from my childhood in a crowd. It is so weird, but fun! It’s sort of like photographic memory, but different. I can see patterns, details, nuances around me. I’ve always been that way and to be honest, it saved me from a pretty dysfunctional upbringing. Oh yes, I am a writer. What I love about writing is drawing all the threads, the details, the observations into a finished creation. So glad you wrote this!
Lori Puma says
May 22, 2017 at 4:35 pmI really loved this Kristen. I think your advice goes double for anyone writing memoir or narrative nonfiction. The things worth writing about are the things that hurt the most. They’re the things that show us the truth if we’re willing to see it.
Amanda Taylor says
May 22, 2017 at 5:01 pmHi Kristen,
Really enjoyed your post and could relate. I was shamed, bullied, and ostracized just about everywhere I went. I remember the WASPs, but I called them the snobs. I was shamed for everything about me. My parents stayed married, but we were poor all my life and I was judged for that. I was fortunate to be clean and have new clothes at the beginning of the school year, but I wasn’t cool since they were bought at Wal-Mart or Family Dollar if they were new.
I started writing as a teenager to escape from my lousy life. Healing was an afterthought. I still find popular people trying to oppress or ostracize me, but I fight back. Maybe that’s why I write about warriors. People have talked about the strength of the MC. Her strength for her battles and adventures was what I had to muster up to survive the day.
I am writing to heal on my blog. People have reached out to me once in awhile. I wrote one here. Still battling with my complex PTSD and fear of people.
Kristen Lamb says
May 22, 2017 at 5:25 pmAmanda I can so relate. After years of enduring the Queen WASPs I had crippling social anxiety. Eventually that translated into intense agoraphobia which was part of how I became a writer. Kind of hard to get a real job when you are terrified of the outside world and the thought of talking to people makes you have a panic attack.
I am so happy you’re using writing to heal. It is an amazing balm for sure. Best of luck and thanks so much for commenting and sharing! I’m thrilled you are reaching out. It helps to know you are not alone and I found serving is another great way to heal.
Amanda Taylor says
May 23, 2017 at 12:09 pmAhh, yes agoraphobia. Came with the package deal for me, too among other things. What the fear of people’s fancy name is anthropophobia which is social anxiety push to the very extreme. Talking to a stranger or being in a room full of people is like putting someone with claustrophobia in a coffin. I think everyone is judging me. I look for those nuances and expect rejection or criticism. I want to enjoy myself when I go out, but I am so jacked up that I can’t. I have to take a nap after a social gathering. People don’t understand what I have to deal with. Being able to work from home and write has been a godsend. The thought of going back to a regular job renders me catatonic. People try to push me to get a real job. I just can’t. I’ve tried and it hasn’t ever worked out. I am always picked over. Maybe it’s a sign I am just not cut out for it.
I may have to adopt WASPS instead of bees. Bees are constructive and pollinate and produce honey. Wasps are nothing but pests and predators.
I do want to serve others and it does help, but I have been so frozen out for so long it’s like I don’t exist at times and people won’t let me serve them. I feel so detached at times. I don’t really know what I can do or what I am capable of. So many times just to be given a chance is too much to ask from others. Ugh.
Hopefully someday something will change.
Rachel Thompson says
May 22, 2017 at 7:18 pmYour bravery is inspiring, Amanda, and you have such a big, brave heart. I, too, am happy you’ve found healing in your writing. You give back to the indie author community in many ways as well. I’m honored to know you! <3
Amanda Taylor says
May 23, 2017 at 12:11 pmAww, thank you, Rachel. I do what I can and wish I was in a better position to do even more, but one day at a time I guess 🙂
Lisa Orchard says
May 22, 2017 at 5:45 pmGreat post, Kristen. You have come a long way. We’re all proud of you. 🙂 Congrats on your debut!
Claire O'Sullivan says
May 22, 2017 at 6:25 pmHola Kristen,
this was a big cool awesome blog. Most of us don’t recognize our shame or if we do, admit to it. We rage against it (usually a ‘them’). There’s a proverb that goes: Pride goes before a fall. WELL. Well educated (my father said overeducated, he might have been right), my stature grew and my pride even more. Got a bad surprise, and suddenly for nothing I did wrong, was shamed and felt shame, anger, outrage, bitterness…. add some others like do I have a freekin’ sniper gun? LOL. It took me a long time to realize I’d become so toxic and bitter I’d gone from a really nice person to apparently what lingered in my heart: I became a hateful shrew. So screw it, I decided. I’m going to write. By the end of novel 1, I realized (and began to change, not knowing it) that I was writing about me. My MC was a hateful shrew, chip on her shoulder, couldn’t catch a break, always looking over her shoulder, hounded, she isolated so she could only stew in her own shame. Sounds familiar. Turned out after ten million rewrites to be the best writing I’d ever done. My second one, I also wrote in a different part of my life where I felt judged and damned. So when I took this nano piece to a group, the critiques were harsh – hey am ok with harsh but now this is the most painful shame I’ve ever felt- and ended up telling them, look I don’t want velvet gloves but telling me my MC should herself in the head is not a real helpful guide. In the end I did make her a bit less pathetic but not much, because her own shame she needed someone to tell her she wasn’t alone. So pathos, bitter pathos has always been the source of my best (cathartic, painful) writing, prose and poetry. If I am happy, my poetry totally sucks. 🙂 But I can draw on past and present pain to write a main character and after this second novel hopefully I have rhino skin, even if a critiquer or group says kill your MC. Totally get it.
Claire O'Sullivan says
May 22, 2017 at 6:27 pmAh, I might add, I had an attitude adjustment when I finished. 🙂
Rachel Thompson says
June 3, 2017 at 8:53 pmAwesome share, Claire. It’s a long road, and many of us never face or own up to those demons. I truly believe that’s why we see so many bitter, ugly people (whether that’s on social media or IRL). Hugs, girl.
Gail Walter says
May 23, 2017 at 2:42 pmRead this at just the perfect time for me, wallowing in the shame that makes you stop writing and want to hide. This made me creep out from under my desk and well, made me believe in impossible things. I have to move towards the shame, one terrified step at a time. I want to say No I am too ashamed of my shame to record it in my words. I want to say No it will make people feel uncomfortable and that hooks onto my experience of me personally making people feel uncomfortable and that circles back to the original shame. Hmmm no way out but through. Maybe I will dance — loudly — with my shame. Maybe I will stop being ashamed of my shame. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. For reminding me that I am not lost.
Rachel Thompson says
June 3, 2017 at 8:55 pmAwesome share, Claire. It’s a long road, and many of us never face or own up to those demons. I truly believe that’s why we see so many bitter, ugly people (whether that’s on social media or IRL). Hugs, girl.
Rachel Thompson says
June 3, 2017 at 8:58 pmHI, Gail! I can so relate to where you are. I stood in that field of shame for a long time. My only advice is to just write and not worry about who will read it. Write for you — write the ugly cry, the bitter mean, the awful, the terrible. Nobody may ever read those drafts, but you will have released it.
Not everything we write has to be for public consumption. Maybe out of those whatever, 200 pages, you’ll have two paragraphs you can use. Or not. Doesn’t matter. Just start writing and keep writing.
Hope that helps. xx
aui says
May 23, 2017 at 9:40 pmI Love Kristine Lamb soooo much! ‘Love the way she writes and the more I know her the more I am looking forward to reading more about her. Thank you for sharing this one 🙂
Aui
Kristen Lamb says
May 26, 2017 at 11:40 amThanks for the comment! Lovely to meet you 😀 .
Lucy Mitchell says
August 8, 2017 at 2:56 amI loved this post so much. I can relate to so much of it. The bit about readers connecting to flaws and not perfection was brilliant. Since I stopped writing about stick thin, tanned, beautiful people who have adorable personalities, are highly skilled in flower arranging and are great in bed, things have got a lot more enjoyable for me. Darkness makes people interesting. When I think of all the books I have read and enjoyed, it’s been those with characters who are deeply flawed and have a delicious dark side to them. Thank you for this excellent post.