Setting realistic and achievable goals is not just a formality; it's the rudder that steers your writing ship through the vast expanse of your memoir.
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No amount of experience is enough when you decide to share your innermost thoughts with others through memoir. Deciding to embark on this journey was an act of vulnerability – not once with the decision to write my book, but many times throughout the process.
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The bond between authors and readers extends far beyond the pages of a book. It's a dynamic relationship that thrives on mutual understanding, empathy, and shared enthusiasm for the written word.
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Embarking on the journey of writing your memoir is a significant undertaking—one that promises self-discovery, reflection, and the creation of a lasting legacy.
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Throughout eight political campaigns, eight years as St. Petersburg's first lady, raising kids, navigating a fire that claimed our home and our beloved labradors, being diagnosed with ovarian cancer, supporting my son after an antisemitic attack, I realized that I was a survivor.
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I was a political spouse for 22 years. For me, that meant supporting my husband while he climbed the political ladder. For most of those years, I figured if one of us in this partnership were deemed “leader,” it would be him.
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The best way to start your memoir is to write just for yourself without the pressure of perfection. Your writing skills will improve with practice, and you can always seek help from editors or writing coaches to refine your work.
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The gift of the connectedness and community that is created when sharing our stories is worth making peace with the idea of being vulnerable.
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Since its inception in 2015, the SHINE Mural Festival has lured local, national and international artists who have transformed warehouses, coffee shops, bus stations, law offices, and other urban canvases into an outdoor and free art gallery that’s open 24/7.
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We all find wonder in different spaces. Surprises like the arrival of the elusive roseate spoonbill summoned me to pause. I think about how we choose to see the world, and how that impacts how we live.
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We suffer through long sweaty summers, with a different type of seasonal affective disorder that keeps neighbors inside during the hottest months, just as winter halts life in many areas. I’ve never had to shovel my way out of my front door, or scrape ice off the car windshield. I own one wardrobe, and I rarely wear socks.
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The morning after our return, Rick took Jake and Christie out back. When he came inside, he declared, “We’ve got lemons!”
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Survival of anything means that we have kept on. If not for the benefit of ourselves, we choose to persevere and join others to fight for equality, equity, or safety.
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For some authors, sharing themselves through their words is grueling and exhausting. By the time their book hits shelves, they’re often tired or perplexed as to how to shift gears into marketing.
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I’d already written the articles in my head, anticipating how the media might frame my book as a “tell-all from the mayor’s wife.”
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Today’s parents might scoff at the idea of their children spending summers on their feet, punching a timeclock, and sweating in a warehouse with people they hardly know. These experiences didn’t improve our SAT scores, but Steve and I learned incomparable life lessons. Humility and hard work are rarely learned inside a classroom. This doesn’t underscore the importance of education, but reinforces the value of diverse life experiences, hard work, and the true meaning of sweat equity.
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Animals, especially dogs, teach us more about resilience than any self-help book or Google search. Like the people Christie was born to serve, her destiny was changed the moment she took a wrong step while playing with her kennel mates. My dream for her was quashed. But we can always find a job to do, a way to be of service that helps others.
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Many who work in the non-profit industry found their way there because of their innate desire to help others. Many professions allow us to improve the lives of others by virtue of the tasks required to do the job. Some that come to mind are nurses, doctors, fire fighters, police officers, mental health counselors and teachers. I didn’t envision a career in the non-profit arts industry when I accepted my diploma from University of South Florida.
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I’ve often thought about that day and why I persisted in the face of such a dire diagnosis, given so casually. I thank my thick skin from being a political spouse; my husband, Rick Kriseman, is finishing his second term as the mayor of St. Petersburg, Florida. I thank my faith. And, I thank my privilege. It’s easier to fight when you have better-than-average health insurance. I never worried about paying for my care.
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Even before my husband was mayor in 2014, I knew a lot of people. This was my personal health crisis. I was slowly adjusting to my new status as a cancer patient. Thankfully, a 3-hour surgery successfully removed 3 tumors and a few organs and lymph nodes. On the day of my first chemotherapy treatment, a reporter from the local newspaper asked why Rick was out of the office for “family business.”
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