Are you sitting down? I sure need to because last week, some pretty remarkable things knocked me off my feet. And there’s no better day than today to celebrate the good news, because today, August 17, 2021, my memoir, You’ll Never Find Us, is published by She Writes Press!
I’m also happy to tell you that the story caught the attention of local media. KUT, our NPR station, scheduled an interview with me. Austin Woman Magazine wants to feature me in their October “Survivor” issue. Yep, I’m smiling.
On Friday, BookWoman called and asked me to head over and sign about a dozen sold copies of my book. Audrey took good care of me and set me up in the children’s section of the store. I took a deep breath and began signing, surrounded by books meant for kids in the age range mine were when they were kidnapped. A moment to be noticed and gratefully savored.
Speaking of gratitude, I’m so grateful to BookWoman for hosting my upcoming August 25th book launch. Please join us if you can for this free virtual event. https://www.eventbrite.com/e/book-launch-youll-never-find-us-a-memoir-by-jeanne-guy-tickets-164798790619
Wow. Picture me a happy deer in the headlights (if that’s even possible). This must be what an out-of-body experience feels like. And exactly how did I get here? Bradley Jones, my most excellent publicist, asked me a similar question months ago.
What prompted you to share your story now, over 40 years after the events that took place in your new memoir, You’ll Never Find Us?
My reply: It wasn’t until 2001, when my ex-husband died, that the idea to write the 1977 story began to percolate. I started writing it in 2005 because of encouragement from author Christina Baldwin at her writers’ retreat on Whidbey Island.
It’s been fifteen years in the making, so my desire to share the story has evolved over time. Originally, I didn’t care if I had an audience. It was strictly cathartic. Poet and author Mark Nepo said in The Book of Awakening, “Tragedy stays alive by feeling what’s been done to us, while peace comes alive by living with the result.” As long as I let the story fester inside me, there would be no end to the pain. It would win. But by writing and shedding light on the story, by learning about writing—and myself—over the years, I could know some peace.
Once I started, I had to finish. It was a creative challenge that required years of workshops, critique groups, and mentors. And as the story unfolded and grew, so did I. Also, the scope broadened over the years as I studied writing at a deeper level and researched the historical elements crucial to the story.
Though I wouldn’t necessarily recommend my backburner fifteen-year writing process, I am glad the book is coming out now. It seems particularly relevant given its major themes, which are timelier than ever, dealing intimately with: white supremacy, patriarchy, feminism, and women’s empowerment. But most importantly, parental child stealing.
It also helped that certain characters passed on, increasing my comfort level to speak the truth I needed to speak. And now, let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to be around when the book hits the streets and get cracking on the next memoir.
So, dear friends, You’ll Never Find Us has indeed hit the streets and you and I both know, I couldn’t have done it without you. Today is the long-awaited publication day and I wanted to share my joy with you.
Now go buy the book and we’ll all live happily ever after.
wowza … can’t wait to read this! Love and miss you, Nadine B.
It’s a pretty exciting day around here today! Thanks for all your encouragement and support over the years, Nadine.
Amazing! No other words right now. With love, Karen.
YOU are amazing. Here’s to us and 60+ years of true friendship.
Jeanne, sooooo happy for your incremental successes that make this celebration happen! Hoorah for endurance and allowing time to research, revise, relive … Amazon says my copy has been shipped – I look forward to reading, reading, reading. (Yard work will just have to wait!)
Hugs,
Jazz
Oh, Jazz. I love knowing that the yard work will take a backseat to reading the memoir. And you totally understand what a long road this has been to publication. Thanks for your undying support all these years. May you find the read a good one… Love you.
Oh, Jeanne, this is truly one of those never-to-be-forgotten days: the publication date of a story that has been begging to be shared for a long time now. I can see you clear across the country doing your happy dance and singing praises of thanksgiving. And I’m dancing right there with you and singing just as loud. Can’t wait to read this story – your story – and hold your book in my hands. Congratulations, my friend. Hooray!
Dear, dear Len!!! You know I’m dancing because that’s what you taught me to do by writing a blog a day just for the experience of writing. I owe you. Writing this book was certainly a (long) labor of love and has changed my world. May it help others as well. Thanks for being in my corner all this time.
I am so excited for you, Jeanne! What a journey from when we first met on Whidbey Island. I’m glad I know you; and grateful for your mentorship as I travel my own publishing journey. I can’t wait to read your memoir, it is on my bedside table. I already admire your courage.
Gretchen – I am also glad Christina and Whidbey Island brought us into each other’s life. This writing journey requires support and encouragement and you have certainly done that for me. My thanks!
Hi Jeanne,
I picked up the book yesterday at BookWoman and finished it today. I couldn’t put it down. Oh my God! What you went through is horrific. Thank you for sharing this story with us. The book read like a well-written NYT best-selling novel but was even more gripping since it was true. The suspense you built was incredible even though we knew you would get your children back. Looking forward to your reading Weds night. Love, Elaine
Elaine – just saw your feedback about the book. Thank you so much! I have to admit I’m a little blown away with the reviews and support I’ve received. I am grateful beyond belief.