Guest blog post written by Mission Valley Hera Hub member Johannah Warren, writer, president and editor of Saint Columba Press.

Until a few years ago, reading a memoir was about as appealing as sitting next to that uncle at dinner who wants to describe his latest trip to the podiatrist.  Of the memoirs that hit the bestseller list, I assumed the protagonist was an extraordinary survivor of life’s injustice whose story was merely stumbled upon by a ghostwriter.  Realistically, who’d have thought girls like “Precious” would live to tell the tale.  The idea of writing a memoir myself was even more alien.  What did I really have to say?

The seed was planted at twenty-five when I embarked on a personal photo album project.  I phoned relatives for additional pictures and their memory of each occasion.  Most featured my sister as the main character and I, her shadow.  This would become very relevant later.  I had subconsciously avoided inspection of how significantly our paths had diverged.  I wondered what her version of our childhood would be.  I wanted to write it all down – at least how I experienced it – but it was like staring up the side of a steep mountain.  And I didn’t have a happily ever after.  While my jumble of dysfunctional family rants always cracked people up, I longed for a true journey’s end.  The proverbial finish line.  Of course, that would be at my death, but I was still looking for some kind of justification – the culminating event that causes everything before it to make sense.

I was completely missing the point.

Years later, I dusted off my CD’s and vowed to listen to everything that I once loved enough to own, and the time warp began.  “Neil Young Unplugged” was my favorite album when I first moved into that snowy Rocky Mountain cabin with no plumbing at the age of seventeen.  The collection of tunes summoned ghosts of old lovers or the thrill of driving for the first time.  I could even smell my grandparents’ kitchen on Maple Street when I played bluegrass music.  I sought out a pencil and notebook, lest these musical triggers fail me one day.

Each little slice of the story inspired another, as though I was being lured by a romance that I hoped would never end.  However, when I arranged the pieces chronologically, so much about my life didn’t make sense.  I was just a pinball in a machine.  I tried to think of how to explain to a reader, for example, how I went from being a pre-med student to a wanna-be Hollywood actress, but I couldn’t.  Finally I resolved not to apply a sugar-coating.  The truth is, there was nothing logical or noble about many of my choices, and the pattern revealed itself that fear had repeatedly prevented me from reaching success.  This was a painful reflection that, not uncharacteristically, made me want to quit writing.

But somehow I knew if I could find truth, there was cleansing in the murky waters.  This would not be a display of my degrees and trophies and ribbons; rather, a true story of life’s adventure and a search for meaning from a real girl.  I intended to, upon conclusion, find a quiet place by the river and dispose of it page by page downstream.  Unexpectedly, it was in my own story that I found the acceptance I never got from my mother, the closure I needed with my sister, and the self-love I had futilely sought from others.  Miraculous is the only word I can think of to describe the transformation that took place within.  Giving a shape to my life will forever remain the oasis I had been crawling toward.

Johannah Warren is the President and Editor of Saint Columba Press, a multi-faceted company dedicated to literature, storytelling, and narrative therapy.  In addition to group lectures and writing retreats, Johannah coaches individuals in the writing, editing, and publication of their memoirs.  While still in its infancy, SCP is embarking on an extensive project that will encompass a dynamic database of Life Lessons and relevant reflections from all walks of life.