Uncommon Misconception

I'm Famous! (In a First-Name-Only Kind of Way)

I had some time to kill before my moms' night out last night, so I went looking for a book or two by Susan Estrich to get a feel for her writing style before her new book came out.  Lo and behold, what I found instead was said new book.  The one I'm in!  I had no idea it had already hit the shelves.

Apparently, they went to print prior to my decision on the whole "What's in a name?" debate because I'm feature in the book as Julia ____________.  I've only had a chance to breeze through the chapter of her book that includes my excerpt.  She included my entire testimony, which made me happy.  I always get nervous at the thought of someone cutting out parts here and there.  But I was a bit surprised that there was no direct commentary on my testimony.  It just sort of sits there.  It's in good company, with other relevant facts about the abortion debate, as it stands in our country right now, but I was a bit surprised that she didn't go on to highlight any items in particular or break down my ideas in any further detail.

So far, I'm on the fence about the book in general.  I agree with Estrich that Coulter is a raving lunatic who embarrasses the majority of those who fall to the right of center.  But what I've read so far seems a bit too disjointed to be really engaging.  I'll let you know more when I get a chance to really read it in its entirety in a full review.  (Which, I promise, will be more balanced than the "reviews" on Amazon right now.)

In the meantime, go get the book and tell me what you think.

Hard

A few weeks ago, Jenny Minton generously offered to read a couple of chapters of my would-be memoir and recommend an agent or two who might be well-suited to the project.  I decided that it would be best to send the most pertinent chapters - those that tell at least part of Thomas's story.  But, obviously, in order to do that, one would have to write those chapters.  One being me, of course.

So I have been.  But it is hard.

You're saying "duh!" right now, aren't you.  And you'd be right.  It is obvious that writing about the biggest trauma in your life will be difficult.  But what's frustrating to me is that I seem to have encapsulated the event in my own mind.  Probably the psychological calcification I talked about before.  Chipping away at those layers is proving difficult.  It's hard to describe the visceral reactions I had to everything.  It was all so physical, in addition to being an emotional event.  I know I'm capable of doing it, but I find myself wishing I could simply pass the neat little capsule along to someone and have them swallow it whole, granting them instant access to the whole thing.

But alas, writing this out - chipping away at those hardened layers - is precisely the therapy I need.  The need to write strikes me at inopportune times (read: 1:30 am when I've taken pain pills to try and fend off a migraine), which tells me there's processing yet to be done, even if it ends up being only for my own sanity.

So, in essence, this post's purpose is to whine about something I know I need to do.  Blah.  I know. Quick, somebody smack me and tell me to get back to work!

Psuedo-Thoughts

Cecily is my new BFF.  If she lived closer, or if I had money for a plane ticket, I would give her a big, sloppy kiss and write "LYLAS!" with my 8-color pen in her infertility year book.  As Cec mentioned, she and I are forever linked by our similar stories.  What she doesn't know is that while I may be a "skinny blond" on the outside, inside I am really a big-bosomed bad-ass with a set of 50 lbs. brass balls who's worthy of hero worship.  I think.

Thank you so much to all of you (on her post and mine) for your helpful and thoughtful advice.  While we all know this is a decision I have to make with my family and no one else, it is always good to get as many "takes" on each side as possible.

As an interesting and unintended side-effect of my posing this question publicly, I cannot tell you the decision I've made.  If I did, it would automatically tell you (or any prying lunatics) whether or not you could reliably use my published name to track me down (you have to picture maniacal rubbing of the hands and cackling here to get the full effect).

What I can tell you is that each "side" brought up some very valid and interesting points, which had me swaying to and fro like a willow tree with each comment.  I can also say that you all are unequivocally awesome.  Especially Charlie, who I would totally hit on, were it not for my undying love for Cecily... oh, yeah, and Todd and Hannah and Tori.  But you know, in another universe.  His advice (I wish I knew how to link to a specific comment) to simply consider the decision each way (without going further down the line) was something I'd never heard of before.  And his eloquence is something I'm completely unused to (read: mute husband who still relies upon grunts and hand signals to convey meaning).

Your comments also led to some of my own that I may or may not have voiced previously:

- I agree that the violence (in general) is aimed at the providers and clinics.  But (you infertiles will appreciate this), it only takes one.  One crazy who thinks my telling our story is "causing" women to get abortions.

- I do think that if I choose to use a pseudonym, anti-choice people will try to say it is because I am ashamed.  Of course, that makes as much sense as saying a SWAT team guy is a pussy for wearing a Kevlar vest.  But whatever.

- I love my state.  Texas is a phenomenal place - a country unto itself.  There are so many beautiful things about where I live.  But, especially during the last decade, the state has become increasingly stilted in it's political and religious views.  And living here does make things different that if I lived in a more "blue" state.  Quite different.  If I ever come knocking on your door seeking shelter, you'll know why.

- I am intrigued by people who say they are "primarily pro-life"*. Who among us isn't?  I don't know anyone who runs around saying "Yay! Abortion! I hate life!  Down with life!"  All of us are in favor of life.  But being pro-choice means that you do understand that there are situations that call for the option of abortion.  Maybe not for you (and God willing, you'll never have to find out how deep your convictions are).  But if you read my story and agree that my family, and others like ours, must be afforded the choice of ending a painful life of suffering, they you ARE PRO-CHOICE.  There is no magic wand you can wave to begin drawing a line in the sand about when and how and where they're allowed.  Because as soon as you do, I can tell you of a woman (or girl) whose situation defies your logic.

- I am pro-choice for all women.  Period.  While my story is elicits much sympathy, I want everyone to understand that my experience has only solidified my belief that women deserve the right to govern their own bodies and to do what is best for their children.  While I did not know that abortion was ever something I would be faced with, I did have friends who had abortions for the more typical reasons.  And none of them did it without soul-rending thought and tears that have continued even decades later.  It is never an easy decision.  Every time I tell my story, another friend or acquaintance confides in hushed tones that she, too, had an abortion.  If I could, I would wipe away every ounce of shame they feel, because I know, as they do, that it was a heartbreaking decision no matter how you look at it, no matter what the circumstance.

- For many women, abortion isn't the right choice.  And they are my sisters just as surely as those who did have an abortion.  We are not on separate sides of a fence.  We were all offered the choice and did what we could based on the facts in front of us.  I've even met women through this blog who are raising children with the same disease Thomas had.  And we have a tie that no one can sever because we all recognize that our cases differ.  We respect that the choice each of us made was ABSOLUTELY the right choice.  And, because we're human, we look at the other and wonder "what if", only to remind ourselves that theirs is not our child, and our story would have played out differently.

Alrighty, then.  I feel better!  How 'bout you?

*I do not want to imply that I'm angry with anyone for saying this, because your supportive comments mean as much to me as anyone.  I just want to make a point about semantics.

False Name

I have a decision to make, and I'm hoping you can help.

I imagine any of you who've been in a bookstore in the past year or so have seen this book.  (Take a minute to read the editorial review, to get a feel for it.)  I'm not even what the mainstream would define as a "liberal", and yet, I'm nauseated by the book.  Anyone who can earnestly claim that a giant segment of our population considers abortion a "sacrament" is both out of touch with reality and lacking in the most human quality of all - the ability to sympathize.

This woman is writing a response to Coulter's book.  She's an author of several other bestsellers, and - for lack of a better term - a token Democrat for Fox News.  Her assistant approached me a few days ago and asked for permission to reprint Thomas's story in a chapter about the need for safe, legal abortion. 

I was flattered that Susan had even heard of me, and grateful for another opportunity to share our experiences to broaden the minds of others who might otherwise be tempted to think of abortion in black-and-white terms.  I agreed immediately to allow her to use the story.

It also dawned on me that this might be a good opportunity to help me attain a literary agent for my own book.  At the very least, it would lend some weight and national attention to our story.

Which leads me to the big question: my name.

Do I attach my full name to this story?  Or do I use a pseudonym?  It's a question I'd have to answer one way or another if and when I proceed with my book.  But now, I'll have to decide more quickly.  By the 30th, to be precise.

There are obvious advantages to attaching my name:
1. Making a "name" for myself.  Pun intended. 
2. Pride.  Not only for myself, but for Thomas, and my whole family.  We should never have to hide ourselves or be ashamed of what we did for him.  Nor should any woman who's had an abortion.
3. Assuming I did one day publish my own book, the only way to successfully market it would be to personally engage - through book tours, readings, radio and TV spots.  So my face would be connected with it, regardless of the name.

And there is a big disadvantage to attaching my name:
1. Scary, dangerous fanatics.

This one may override all others.  My family's security is paramount.  PARAMOUNT.  I do recognize that the most likely consequence to all of this would be condescending prayers for the welfare of my eternal soul. (I welcome prayer, but not false prayer that's really only intended as pity or scorn.)  I might also receive unwanted mail (pictures, "literature", etc.), but I imagine this can be circumvented by a P.O. box and someone to screen the contents.

But there are still that select cadre of human beings (I use the term loosely) who think killing is an answer.  Clinics are still bombed.  Doctors and providers are still targeted.  Would this risk extend to me?  How could I take measures to safeguard my family?

Also, I have an established career as a freelance writer.  Would publicizing our experiences cost me future business?  Would it make me easier to trace?  How would I bridge those two worlds if I used a pseudonym?

A good friend is trying to set up a meeting for me with Sarah Weddington.  (And yes, I might wet my pants if that actually happens.)  If anyone would know the implications of having your name forever linked to the topic of abortion, it would be her.

Do any of you have any thoughts on this?  I'm swaying wildly from one side to another with every passing moment.  What would you do?

"Does This Make Me Look Legitimate?"

I was doing a bit 'o internet research today and came across this article about bloggers-turned-authors.  I thought it was pretty interesting.  It seems that having a blog with a built-in following can't be a bad thing when it comes to writing a book that people may actually purchase.  But, like everything else in life, if the writing sucks or the plot is lacking, no amount of blog-tastic-goodness will save you.

Still, though, how does one mention one's phenomenal internet audience without sounding too, um, what's the word... oh yeah!: pathetic?  needy?  wanna-be-trendy?  self-deluded?

[$5 to the first person who can show me how to work a blog mention into my query letter without sounding like any of the above.]

[Wait, did offering to pay a bribe to raise my self-esteem make me even more of the above?]

Nerve-Wracking

I've just sumbitted a couple of query letters to literary agents.  I hate being in this territory.  It's foreign and outside my comfort zone.  The perfectionist and people-pleaser in me is dying a slow death.

Anyone have any words of wisdom on publishing?