Has this been published? If yes, what publisher and what publication date? Twice a Daughter releases next week, May 11, 2021. She Writes Press is a hybrid publisher and received the 2019 Indie Publisher of the Year Award.
What is the description of this memoir? Julie is adopted. She is also a twin. Because their adoption was closed, she and her sister lack both a health history and their birth parents’ names—which becomes an issue for Julie when, at forty-eight years old, she finds herself facing several serious health issues. (Below: Julie and her twin sister Lisa. Copyright by Julie Ryan McGue)
To launch the probe into her closed adoption, Julie first needs the support of her sister. The twins talk things over and make a pact: Julie will approach their adoptive parents for the adoption paperwork and investigate search options, and the sisters will split the costs involved in locating their birth relatives. But their adoptive parents aren’t happy that their daughters want to locate their birth parents—and that is only the first of many obstacles Julie will come up against as she digs into her background. (Below: Julie and Lisa. Copyright by Julie Ryan McGue)
Julie’s search for her birth relatives spans five full years and involves a search agency, a PI, a confidential intermediary, a judge, an adoption agency, a social worker, and a genealogist. By journey’s end, what began as a simple desire for a family medical history has evolved into a complicated quest—one that unearths secrets, lies, and family members that are literally right next door. (Below: Lisa and Julie. Copyright by Julie Ryan McGue)
What is the date you began writing this memoir and the date when you completed the memoir? I began writing Twice a Daughter in 2010 when I launched my adoption search for the reasons stated above. At first, I journaled my story and then I enrolled in writing courses at the University of Chicago. By 2016, I began to craft my memoir. The story really took shape as a result of a Write-Your-Memoir-In-6-Months course I took with Linda Joy Myers (NAMW) & Brooke Warner. Last year during Covid, I hired Linda Joy as my editor, and we finalized the editing. I submitted the manuscript to She Writes Press in May of 2020.
http://writeyourbookinsixmonths.com/
Where did you do most of your writing for this memoir? And please describe in detail. At the time I wrote the first draft of my memoir, I was living in an historic Victorian home in Hinsdale, Illinois. Most of the action in the first third of the book takes place in this home. When I moved in 2016 to Michigan City, Indiana I set the memoir aside because I felt that I needed some emotional distance from it. I wrote a first draft of a novel and two-thirds through that manuscript, I decided I was ready to finish the memoir. I enrolled in several memoir courses as discussed above and during Covid, the final draft was complete. The final edits were done in a condo in Sarasota Florida. (Below: The Victorian home in Hinsdale, Illinois where Julie Ryan McGue wrote some of Twice a Daughter. Credit and copyright by Jule Ryan McGue
My writing space in Michigan City is a small room on the second floor of my lakehouse. I painted the room Tiffany Blue and there is just enough room for a desk and printer. Since this room faces south, it is a heavenly place to write in the mornings. In the afternoons, I write in the kitchen so that I’m near the heart of the house-and the coffee maker!
What were your writing habits while writing this memoir- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? I wrote this memoir in two shifts. Early morning, when the sun was coming up, in pajamas, with a steaming cup of coffee nearby. Then later in the day after a good walk along NW Indiana lakeshore. I always precede my writing sessions with a centering meditation. Often this leads to inspiration for a new essay, blog, or chapter revision. (Below: NW Indiana Lakeshore. Julie Ryan McGue Facebook logo photo)
How do you define memoir? And what makes memoir different from an autobiography? Memoir is about real-life events. The narrator recounts the events in their story as best as they can remember or presents the events in the spirit of what happened.
Memoir is unique from other genre’s because the narrator shares with the reader their own unique perspective on what happened in the story. For memoir to be compelling, it needs to have qualities other than a narration of someone’s life.
Memoir needs scenes rich with imagery that appeal to the senses, riveting dialogue that informs, and a story arc ripe with tension to keep the reader turning the page.
Memoir is about pivotal moments in the author’s life it is not the complete story of one’s life.
Writing memoir can be a healing process. The writing and editing of my book allowed me to heal from some of the wrongs, disappointment, injustices I share in the story. I came out of the adoption search and writing experience understanding myself better and this allowed me to write about the depths of what I experienced.
As I got my story down, I gained a fuller idea of the characters/real people and the arc of the story, and I better understood my adoption experience.
I wrote my memoir first for myself. Then in rewrites, I wrote it for every adoptee who is struggling with their adoption experience or the idea of search and reunion.
I wrote it for anyone touched by adoption so that all of us can understand each other’s viewpoint.
And, I wrote it for the community at large so that they have a better idea about how complicated adoption is for everyone involved.
With these goals in mind, memoir was the right choice for me and my story.
Out of all the specific memoires you write about in this memoir, which ONE MEMORY was the most emotional for you to write about? And can you share that specific excerpt with us here. The excerpt can be as short or as long as you prefer, and please provide page numbers as reference. In my book, Twice a Daughter, my twin sister and I go back to St. Vincent’s (Below), the orphanage from which we were adopted at 3 weeks old, and we get a tour from a social worker. Many of the post-adoption support group meetings I attended while going through my adoption search occurred at 721 N. La Salle St. It is a symbol to me of where I started my life and where my search ended. Writing about the return to St. Vincent’s, my orphanage, was as emotional as the visit.
Here’s the excerpt from Chapter 15: St. Vincent’s pgs. 135-138:
“Ready to see the chapel?” Lisa asks with a grin. We nod.
Inside the elevator, Lisa tells us, “Other than some necessary updates, the chapel hasn’t changed much since it was built. The marble baptismal font is the same one that was here when you were baptized, but it’s in a new location at the back of the chapel. The marble bowl is in remarkable condition.”
“I would love a picture of Jenny and me beside it, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” Lisa opens the door to the chapel.
Before us is a two-story room built large enough to hold around seventy-five people. Painted beige and with limited decorations, the focus of the room is the centered altar at the far end. From both sides of the towering space, religious-themed stained glass windows look down onto rows and rows of pine pews.
Lisa motions for us to walk through the worship space. “I’ll meet you over there in the baptismal area.”
My sister and I genuflect at the center aisle and then sit at the end of one of the pews. When I pull down the kneeler and lower my head, I’m overwhelmed with emotion again. This is where I began my life. Jenny and me. A place where we were well cared for when we were between mothers, between homes, but still together. We’ve had such good lives ever since. Staring at the crucifix over the altar, I offer thanks and consider what I might pray for. The judge. My birth mother. Linda. I pray for all of them, and I pray for myself, that the anger and hurt burning a hole in my core lessens sometime soon.
Jenny and I leave the pew and walk side by side down the center aisle toward the back of the chapel. Below a niche of windows, the marble baptismal font awaits. Sunlight streams in, and the cascading rainbow reminds me of that same refraction of light on my staircase at home that caused me to contact Worldwide Tracers. As I did then, should I interpret this rainbow as a sign too? Are my mom’s “powers that be” offering guidance? Am I to hold out hope for my birth mother’s change of heart, or am I being encouraged to move on with my life?
Lisa takes my side as we gather around the baptismal bowl. Now that we are up close, the sun from the windows makes the bowl look like it glows from within.
“So here’s the font. As you can see, it’s in excellent condition. Should I get a photo of the two of you now?”
As Lisa takes our cell phones and readies herself to take several pictures, I look into the bowl. The marble is a swirl of creamy whites with the faintest garnet veining. Right away, I think of the body and blood, two of Catholicism’s most important symbols, and water, that which gives us life. I move closer to my sister so that the bowl is centered between us for the picture.
The two of us are silent as we gaze at the font and up at Lisa for more snapshots. I’m not sure if my sister and I are thinking the same things—about all the orphan babies who were blessed by the holy chrism at this bowl; about this sacrament, our first, when the water poured over our foreheads and expunged our original sin; about being held, not by our parents or the godparents they selected for us, but by strangers whose names we’ll never know.
As I follow the deep red veining that snakes down one side toward the bowl’s center, time slows for me. I imagine my infant self, sixteen days old, held by a nurse’s aide, and my sister in the arms of another young nursing student. Cradled in these women’s arms, I envision a look of wonder in their eyes, and yes, I see something else. Pity. My stand-in godparent felt sorry for me: Such a beautiful baby with such pale skin, such big eyes, so innocent. Abandoned, she’s thinking. Who could abandon this precious child?
Yes, who could? Could I do it, abandon one of mine? The nurse studies my wrinkled brow, which means I’m about to wail. She smooths away my cry with the tip of a finger, brings me in close, and shoos away the heaving in my chest. She kisses me near my temple and whispers in my ear. I shush and study her lips, trying to discern her words. There now, she says, you’re next, here’s your turn to be free of that original sin that mars your soul. Soon, you’ll be clean, pure in God’s eyes, and then you’ll become the child of a mother who’ll love you more than you ever imagined you could be loved. While I cannot know that any of this transpired, it settles me to think that it might have, and I’m thankful. Grateful to that woman, my stand-in godparent, whoever she was.
“One more, look here,” Lisa commands.
Again, Jenny and I smile at Lisa. Click. I gaze back at the bowl. The light cast through the window has moved on, and the bowl no longer glows. Yet, I feel different somehow. Perhaps it’s me who’s captured that light. It’s as if the pity that I’ve often felt for that abandoned child-me and for the rejected adult-me has faded. Like my original sin, it has been washed away. I straighten my shoulders and stand tall. I’m proud to have had my baptism here in this lovely, secluded worship space, a chapel that belonged solely to the sisters and the orphans who once lived here. My sister and I may have passed through here quickly, but we are, without a doubt, alumnae of St. Vincent’s. We were welcomed in 1959, and today we’ve been welcomed back. Our belonging is secure, and I will never forget where I came from.
The wadded tissue comes out of my pocket, and I turn to my sister. I hug her harder than I mean to, and she doesn’t pull away. Lisa’s footsteps echo as she hurries toward us. Jenny pats my shoulder, and then we smile shyly at one another. Our hazel eyes twinkle, and no words are needed. We know what’s in our minds: the visit today to St. Vincent’s is more meaningful than either of us expected, and we’re glad we made the trip together.
Can you describe the step-by-step process of writing about this ONE MEMORY? I wrote this memory in stages. First, I got the elements of the scene down and then I inserted I my inner thoughts and reflections much later. This layering process allowed me to relive the scene in stages that felt comfortable to me. Because this was a difficult moment in my adoption search saga, it triggered heavy emotions and I found I could only edit it in short time intervals. This scene still brings on tears if I read it aloud. (Below: Lisa and Julie a St. Vincent’s. Copyright granted by Julie Ryan McGue)
Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? No there were no deletions. It was a scene that I built in stages. Adding details that came to me as I processed the emotional content. (Below Lisa and Julie at St Vincent’s. Copyright granted by Julie Ryan McGue)
Other works you have published? I have published numerous articles listed on the Media page of my website https://www.juliemcgueauthor.com
I write a monthly column for my local newspaper: The Beacher in Northwest Indiana
I blog weekly at www.juliemcgueauthor.com
Anything you would like to add? This book is for all the social workers and adoption workers that work hard to connect adoptees and birth mothers with their lost relatives. This book is for adoptees so that they can learn from my mistakes and successes. This book is for adoptive parents so that they can understand the needs and wants of their adopted child better. This book is for anyone touched by adoption so that our communities communicate better about what adoption means to those living the experience.
Adoption is complicated. So often outsiders think they know what is involved in the adoption experience and they make uninformed judgements about birth mothers and adoptees. It is important to dispel the perpetuated myths: that an adoptee seeking reunion with birth relatives is ungrateful to their adopted parents; that birth mothers are waiting to be found; that all adoptive parents are supportive of their adopted child’s search efforts; that birth fathers were notified of their paternity; that an adoptee doesn’t need to know where they come from or why they were placed for adoption to develop fully.
Each and every one of us should have the right to know everything about ourselves, and no one should have the power to deny us access to that information.
A memoirist, blogger, and columnist, Julie Ryan McGue is an adult domestic adoptee and an identical twin. Her debut work, Twice a Daughter: A Search for Identity, Family and Belonging, is a memoir about her search for birth relatives. Due out in May 2021, it will be published by She Writes Press.
She holds a B.A. in Psychology from Indiana University, and a M. M. in Marketing from the Kellogg Graduate School of Business, Northwestern University. Julie has served multiple terms on the Board of the Midwest Adoption Center and is active in various adoption organizations.
Julie splits her time between NW Indiana and Sarasota, Florida. Besides her laptop, Julie loves her Steinway, Nikon camera, and tennis racquet. Married for over 35 years, she is the mother of four adult children. Her grandsons call her Lulu.
She is currently working on a collection of personal essays and a coming-of-age memoir about what it was like to grow up as an adoptee and identical twin.
All the Magnification of One Memory in Memoir LIVE LINKS can be found at the very end of the below feature:
http://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2020/09/ruth-weinsteins-back-to-land-alliance.html