Can I tell you a story about how some essays come into being?
I first wrote this piece, about my grandfather’s death and the secret I didn’t know about his work and his life, in college, oh, 20+ years ago. I wrote it as fiction, because it was a fiction-writing class and I didn’t know that I wasn’t really a fiction writer and I figured, what the hell? Who will know this is all true?
Over a decade later, I resurrected it for a workshop in graduate school, this time in its proper memoir form. Then, a few months ago, I decided to take a look at it again, make a few more changes, and send it off.
So what you’re reading here — or what you will read here, please and thank you so much! — is a piece that started in 1999 and is now seeing the light of day in 2019. Sometimes this is how it goes.
You can read about it all here. xoxox