Trading an academic writing style for a creative one has been such a relief. The holistic permission that is retirement allowed me to cast off my straightjacket and write something I hadn’t even known existed—creative nonfiction. Finding a voice and writing with enthusiasm was hard, but oh so satisfying. I claimed myself as a writer and a woman.
The how-to-of-it meant a complete lifestyle change—moving to London, enrolling in a writing program, and reinventing myself. Creative writers are attuned differently, I thought. I set out to develop a ruminative mind-set and live a non-fiction kind of life. Changing my circumstances and shedding professional identity would foster internal percolation, the subconscious processing of thoughts, that fed expressiveness.
Over two years, I learned that popular writers have a different purpose and audience. Academics write to establish and maintain territory. The tenure system (where publications are currency) is based on judgment by peers, and how you slice and dice your work is often as important as what you are writing about. Those who can’t or won’t conform won’t be published. My dream of being creative meant something antithetical to academia—originality.
Voice and presence within one’s writing mattered, so I rebelliously shed a disciplinary mode that demanded detachment. Transitioning from academic writing meant saying “yes” to self-revelation, putting my thoughts and opinions out there. Showing that there was a moving mind (and heart!) behind my sentences.
Creative nonfiction is a genre of narrative in which an author tells a true story, using the techniques of fiction (evocative scenes, dialogue, and plot). For my course, I wrote a book called Emily Dickinson Had to Have Curls: The Feminist Masks Forced on Women Writers, which fell short of creative nonfiction. But it was illuminating (for me especially) and I became a confirmed feminist. While Emily Dickinson was good practice, I hit my CNF stride with London Sojourn: Rewriting Life After Retirement, a memoir coming out on January 27, 2026.
How I say something is super important because words are my conduit to readers. When I wrote my first academic book, Libricide: The Regime-sponsored Destruction of Books and Libraries in the Twentieth Century, I felt like I had climbed the mountain, Martin Luther King-style, and what I had to say was really important. It was however so densely written that even my mother nodded off when reading it. With London Sojourn, I am similarly exhilarated, though it’s a different mountain, with a much greater portion of the accomplishment in the writing.
It's a true story about transitioning, evolving, and writing my way to self-understanding. I tell many different stories and take readers on a ride through life change and a city beloved to book-lovers and writers. London Sojourn is accessibly written for those who want that kind of ride, find an examined life interesting, and are open to reinvention.
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Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you!
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