Category: Clients Crushin’ It

Madison Utley speaks to Lois Kelly following the release of her book, Slow Loss: A Memoir of Marriage Undone by Disease, about the emotional and intellectual impact of transitioning from business to personal material, the reader responses she has gotten so far, and what a commitment to the daily practice of writing has brought–and will continue to bring–to her creative life. 

MU: To start, can you walk me through your overall writing journey?

LK: From a young age, I wanted to be a journalist. I started writing for Boston area newspapers when I was 15. I would report on obituaries, weddings, and human interest stories. Those I especially loved because I could ask people questions and learn different things. I loved the concept of writing as exploration like that. Curiosity is really what drives me. 

My business books that I wrote first were an exploration of trends I was seeing, trying to understand: why is that happening?. Then again, much later on, my memoir is me exploring what I was going through and trying to use my journalism skills to document it, with some sense of compassion and curiosity. 

I sort of lost my way with writing for many years. I got into the corporate world and I wrote speeches for CEOs and I did public relations and marketing; I was good at it and it helped me make a living, but that was such unfulfilling writing for me. When I would get an idea about a book, that was so satisfying. Like a meal where you just don’t want to leave the table because everything is so good. Whereas the business writing in the corporate world was like necessary sustenance. It wasn’t feasting.  

MU: Can you talk to me about the differences you’ve felt between business and personal writing, having done so much of both? 

LK: About 14 years ago I wrote a book called Be the Noodle about how to be a compassionate, courageous, crazy good caregiver. It was a sweet, little book that people still love. That was my first personal work. It was somewhat difficult because you’re exposing yourself. To write anything good, you must be vulnerable. That was frightening. I didn’t feel so comfortable with that, yet I knew if I didn’t fully show up, then it wouldn’t be interesting writing. The story would be dull and the character might be unlikable.

Buddhist monk Thích Nhất Hạnh once said, “How you live is your message to the world.” Much of my writing is about being courageous, resilient, and realistically optimistic, even in dark times. That is my message. (But please, no toxic positivity!)

MU: What led you to seek editorial help with your memoir, and what do you feel like was gained from looping Stuart in? 

LK: That wise, experienced, outside perspective is absolutely fundamental for making something as good as it can be. When you’re writing, you get so close to the material you can no longer see. If you want it to be really good, you need a great editor. And to me, if I’m going to do something, I’m going to make it the best it can be. I want it to be a gift to the reader. 

I remember the first thing I said to Stuart: “You need to tell me if this manuscript is something that was good for my own self healing or if there is a book in it. And please be frank with me.” I had been in a writer’s group for four years by that point and I had seen that some things we write are for our own healing or growth and development, and not necessarily something to be shared. I would have been fine if Stuart said it read like a self healing exercise. Through writing it I got to a much better place, so that was fantastic in and of itself. I was just so close to it and there was so much trauma and change and wildness, that Stuart telling me it was a book and helping me go from there was really valuable. 

MU: What kind of reader responses have you gotten thus far?

LK: The memoir has been out for just a few weeks, so it’s early days, but people are saying it’s stunning, it’s heartbreaking, it’s full of love, it’s hopeful, and that the dark humor grounds it. The feedback has been really beautiful. I almost cried when one woman wrote to me: “No one gets what this is really like. This is a gift to the legions of unrecognized caregivers.” It invited us to have a really interesting conversation about ourselves and our suffering and how dealing with this has shaped us. I’m hoping the book invites people to have much more honest conversations with others in their lives–even with their doctors who sometimes are very good clinically but maybe don’t fully understand the emotional impacts of long diseases on patients and their loved ones. 

There are all these people out there who are bettering the world in big, obvious ways–like neurosurgeons–whom I so admire. I hope that with my writing, I better the world in at least a teeny, tiny way. 

MU: I ask this understanding your memoir hasn’t even been out for a month yet, so forgive me, but do you have any idea what’s next for your writing?

LK: I’ve been writing these essays where I’m looking at business things again but writing about them in a fun new way. They’re about what I’ve learned, what I wish I had done better when I was an inexperienced, insecure manager. I don’t know where they’re going, but it’s really fun to write them–and to write them outside of any business style, much more creatively than I’ve done that kind of writing before. Sometimes it’s just fun to write without having any expectations at all and then after a while, you begin to see something to explore in a more disciplined, organized way. Every book I’ve done, that’s how it’s started: Maybe there’s something here, I’m going to let the ideas grow and then we’ll see. 

MU: Do you have any advice you’d like to share with other writers?

LK: The first thing is to write every day. It’s such a fun practice, but it’s also a discipline just like running or yoga. You write if you want to be a writer. I have a group on Zoom and we meet for an hour every day; we start with 10 minutes of meditation and then there’s a prompt if you want, but you can take it or leave it. Writing daily is so satisfying, and I’m becoming a better writer for it. After a while you start to see a pattern, you begin to get these little pearls, and you’re like: “Oh, that’s what’s going on here.” You’re not going to use them all, but you begin to get some great material. It’s habit and routine, yes, but it’s also fun and light and easy versus ugh, I have to sit down and get this done. It’s a safe place to experiment and play. Having a community supporting that is really helpful and holds you accountable too. 

The second thing, and I have to credit Stuart for this, is that I’m not a traditional writer. Some writing in my memoir skews poetic and then some chapters are more traditional prose. The pace of the reading, the energy of it, works for me. I asked Stuart, “Can I do this with a kind of mixed style, outside of what a classic literary memoir is?” Stuart said to me, “You can do anything you want.” It was the greatest advice I got. It built my confidence and it liberated me. And it makes sense too because, when you look at it, the traditional ways of doing anything are being shaken up. There are fundamentals of storytelling, of course, but how you deliver it should be outside of formulas. So as Stuart told me, I’d in turn urge other writers not to be imprisoned by formulas. 

Madison Utley speaks to astrologer, intuitive, and first-time author Juliana Teal about the catharsis of telling her story through her book, Flying to Freedom, how she tempered the heaviness of the abuse that she endured with honoring the ways in which she healed, and the good that sharing her words has already done in the world. 

MU: I’d love to hear about your motivation to tell your story, and your choice to do so in the form of a book.

JT: Since I was a child, I’ve loved to write. My early school experiences were not good, but even back then my teachers couldn’t deny that I was a natural writer. For a long time I didn’t have the self-confidence to share what I wrote, so I’d keep it to myself, but it was around a decade ago that I realized I wanted to tell my story. I thought a book would be the best format because I was hoping to reach other survivors and loved ones of survivors in order to provide healing and education around what I’d experienced.

MU: I’m sure that natural aptitude helped give you the confidence to decide on a book, something that many people find to be a very intimidating thing. 

JT: That has to be true in ways, but it didn’t feel daunting to me. I felt an internal pressure to tell my story. Once I started writing, I could not stop. For several years, I was writing literally every single day. I was so motivated. I could not not write. Sometimes I’d feel stuck as I tried to figure out how to say something but then I’d wake up at 1am or 2am with an idea. I would get out of bed and turn on my computer to get it down as soon as possible. 

MU: At what point in that content generating process did it occur to you to bring in an assisting hand–and how did you go about doing that?

JT: I had finished about half or three-quarters of my manuscript, but I wasn’t feeling fully satisfied with what I had. I was happy with my writing, but I had material about three distinct things and I knew I needed to figure out how to tie them together better. I wanted a developmental editor to help unify what was feeling too choppy to me. I approached someone who, in her area, is pretty well known. I told her what my book was about and she agreed to be my editor, without even seeing my writing. We exchanged lengthy emails where she asked me a lot of questions about my writing experience. She finally told me to send her my manuscript. Three weeks later, she wrote me a brutal email. She said that no one wants to read about abuse and that I should toss out my whole manuscript. I was crushed. When I finally calmed down, though, I realized her words were not at all constructive criticism, but really just cruel, and I fired her. 

After that, I thought: All right, Universe, I can’t find an editor. You’re not sending anyone to me. Maybe I should not do this. But then a client happened to mention an editor she really wanted to work with herself. She shared about how kind and intelligent he was and I found myself asking, “What’s his name?” Instead of researching Stuart to see who he was and what his qualifications were, as I normally would do, I went by gut feeling and I called him. It was a great fit from the start. He had me send a sample of my manuscript and having seen my writing, he became my editor. When we worked together he’d make it clear, “You know how to write already. I’m not teaching you how to write, but how about expanding on this? What if we put that there?” He really believed in my abilities and my book, which helped heal a lot of the pain left by the other editor. 

MU: There is heavy, hard material that is a necessary part of telling your story. How did you embrace communicating the fullness of what you had to share without alienating your readers?

JT: My mission when I wrote my book was to make it as easy on the reader as possible. I knew I had to tell the truth of the ritual abuse I experienced, but also I knew my story is mostly about healing. There are five parts to my book, and the abuse is only discussed outright in part three. The other sections contain material that is healing and hopeful and expansive, which works to balance the heaviness of part three. I’ve been getting the most amazing, beautiful feedback from readers–better than I ever imagined. People have told me that my voice has made it possible to read even the difficult parts without feeling traumatized. I’ve also had feedback from people who have been abused themselves and they’ve said my story has really helped them, which is everything I could have hoped for.  

MU: What have you found to be the most difficult part of this process, and how did you overcome it?

JT: It’s interesting because people’s assumption is that emotionally, this book must have been hard to write, but it really wasn’t. I’m so enamored by the writing process that even as I wrote the difficult sections, I’d ask myself, “Hm, how can I phrase this? How can I creatively talk about this hard thing?” There were places where Stuart asked me to expand and those moments could be challenging, because I wasn’t just reporting on something, I was diving into what I felt inside. When I’d read certain sections out loud to friends, that would be difficult as well, and make me teary, but overall the process was easier than I think a lot of people would expect. 

That said, sharing the book and the vulnerability that goes along with that I have found to be very difficult. I was open about what happened to me. But I pushed through that fear by sending love to myself, by reminding my child self that I’m safe and I’m doing this for a greater cause. This isn’t about me. I’ve never been in this for money or for fame; it’s about helping other people who may have experienced a similar trauma. Remembering that is incredibly empowering. 

Madison Utley speaks to legal professional, professor, and published author Michele DeStefano about what her writing process has looked like thus far, and how the next writing challenge in the pipeline will be different. 

Q: How did your previous experience as a marketing executive help inform your subsequent legal career, and what it is you wrote about in your books?

A: I believe that marketing and law are very similar. What you do as a marketer is try to understand how your target audience thinks and what they believe, both of which drives their purchase behavior, and then you attempt to convince them to believe and think something different so they’ll behave differently. That’s very similar to what litigators do with a jury, for example. Or what regulators do in trying to get people to behave in a certain way. It’s also very similar to what law professors do; my job is to figure out what students are thinking and feeling and then to convince them to think and feel and behave a different way. That’s been my calling in life, in fact: to get people to change the way they see the world and the way they behave. 

Q: When and why along this journey did you decide to write a book(s)?

A: I’ve always wanted to write a book. I’ve kept a journal since I was seven. I wrote my first poem when I was 13, and it got published in Young Miss magazine. I was paid $25 which was a pretty big deal in the ’80s. So I’ve always wanted to be a writer. As a professor, we write articles, but I always wanted to write a book that was more accessible, that anybody could read. So even though my three published works are professional services books, I kept my writing style very conversational and not professorial. 

Q: What did you find most challenging and most beneficial through the book writing process? 

A: The actual writing of the books, the first draft, isn’t that hard. It’s just time consuming. You’ve got to get it out there. The revising and organizing is the challenge. It’s the number one reason why I adore and rely on Stuart. I always write too much which means it was really important to find someone who I could trust. When he said “cut,” I’d just cut. I didn’t have time to go back and really review. I trusted him like you can’t believe. But I knew I could because Stuart had taken the time to read the whole thing through first, learn my voice, learn my goals, learn about the legal profession. Having a person to help me do that, to bounce ideas around regarding organization, to help me see and eliminate repetition, wow. I found all of it extremely, extremely helpful and I couldn’t have done it without him. Wouldn’t even try to do it without him, to be honest. 

Q: Do you envision writing any more books in the future, or is three enough? 

A: Writing a book is like having a baby. It’s so much time and care and attention to detail, it’s not necessarily something you want to go do again next week. That said, I have already started on my next book. I’m a couple of chapters in to a fictionalized take on my life, so not a true memoir but something similar. It’s a coming of age story about loss and learning how to let go. The shift in genre definitely makes this feel different. It’s way harder for me to figure out how to organize. Way more challenging to figure out how to deal with tense and timeline. And it’s also going to be much more emotional. There’s some of that with the other books, but this one is much more personal. I will definitely be reaching out to Stuart eventually to help me, as he’s helped in the past. 

Madison Utley speaks to first-time author Meg Appelgate about her memoir, Becoming Unsilenced: Surviving and Fighting the Troubled Teen Industry, and how she was able to find her voice after years of being told she couldn’t possibly have anything important to say.

Q: When you reached out to Stuart, you weren’t confident that you had a book. What about those initial conversations convinced you that you did, and that this was the time for it to be written?

A: It was definitely on our first call. I realized that someone who knew relatively little about the troubled teen industry and its effects on the youth who enter it still cared a lot about my story. Survivors are programmed to believe that we aren’t worthy, so Stuart’s response to what I had to say helped counteract the inner narrative that tells me that nothing I do will ever be important. 

Q: In the book, you share about your TTI experience of being “reprogrammed” and intentionally given confidence issues, and yet the voice you bring to this work is so strong and clear; how did you discover that voice? How did you learn to trust it?

A: First, I had to learn how to put what I was feeling into words. Figuring out how to label my feelings was particularly hard because I had been intellectualizing my emotions for so long while masking my autism. Once I let myself feel my feelings for what they were, I then had to process them. During that time I felt angry, and anger can do some pretty powerful things and really energize you, and that propelled me for a while even though I still didn’t have all that much self confidence. However, once I saw that the things I was doing were actually creating change, my confidence began to grow and that newfound self-validation has enabled me to believe that my voice deserves to be heard–as does every survivor’s. 

Q: How did working with Stuart help in that process of discovering and refining your voice? 

A: Deciding to write a book is so intimidating. I let that get the best of me in the beginning, and I really relied on Stuart. I had no idea what I wanted out of this, or how to organize all of my thoughts we put down on paper. Then, there was a big shift once I saw the first draft. It provided me with a basic understanding of where the different things that I talked about were going to go. Stuart did a really good job of creating that framework. 

That framework got me excited. Things didn’t feel so daunting anymore because it was starting to look like a book. I wrote pages and pages of additional material and made suggestions to refine my voice between drafts. Stuart had done an incredible job, but all of a sudden I had this need to fully become unsilenced and make it sound exactly like me. 

At that point I started gaining a lot of confidence in my ability to shape what was happening. Over the course of the year we worked together, through the draft process, the manuscript really changed into what it was supposed to be. Without having Stuart to help guide me through this process, especially in the beginning stages, it felt so scary; but now I’ve not only decided I want to write another book, I feel confident I can do so. 

Q: Who do you most hope reads this book? 

A: There are a lot of people I believe would benefit from reading this book, but first and foremost, I hope my story reaches any and every survivor. I had what I consider to be a very traumatic experience and I’m writing to bolster other survivors who might feel like because they didn’t have it as bad as other people out there, they shouldn’t be traumatized. Trauma is trauma is trauma. Just because some forms leave bruises and others don’t doesn’t mean anyone’s story is more or less valuable. I really hope this book brings that message to the people who need to hear it, and delivers a sense of validation and hope.