Q&A with Renee Gilmore

 

 

 

 

Renee Gilmore is the author of the new memoir Wayfinding. She lives in suburban Minneapolis. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write Wayfinding?

 

A: I originally set out to write a poetry chapbook about my father and cars, so I took a short sabbatical to start it. I headed to New Mexico, where I had attended the University of New Mexico for my undergraduate studies and where I had lived in my 20s.

 

After three weeks, I realized this would not be a chapbook, it was not all about my father, and it was not poetry. At that point, the poetic form just felt too limiting. There was a bigger story to tell, especially about what happened in New Mexico, and I was ready to tell it. Or, at least I thought I was.

 

Q: How was the book’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?

 

A: The book originally had a different title, referencing cars and home as a destination.

 

As I worked with my editor at Trio House, Dick Terrill, it became clear that this book was not so much about going back as it was about mapping a new route, a new way of thinking and being. It was about finding freedom, joy, and the non-linear, messy process to get there.

 

Thanks to Kris Bigalk at Trio House for suggesting the title, Wayfinding!

 

Q: The writer Jeannine Ouellette said of the book, “Both tender and bracing, this is a book that refuses easy answers, inviting readers to sit with discomfort, discovery, and the quiet power of resilience.” What do you think of that description?

 

A: I think it’s apt and beautiful. I love that she experienced the sense of extended unease in Wayfinding. Survivorship and resilience reveal themselves slowly; I see them as two sides of the same coin.  

 

Q: What impact did it have on you to write this book, and what do you hope readers take away from it?

 

A: I’ve been asked if writing the book was cathartic, and maybe it was, but I think the impact for me lies in laying bare all of the trauma, abuse, violence, uncertainty, and fear I’ve experienced in my life, and being able to examine it.

 

For many years, I had normalized my experiences entirely, and it hadn’t occurred to me that what happened to me was out of the ordinary. That not everyone lived through years of sexual abuse or relationship violence, or having a disability, or just plain loneliness and alienation. That not everyone just tried to stay alive, at some point, and persevere.

 

Even with therapy, I just thought that anyone would have done what I did. Writing the book validated what my therapist had asked years before, “How did you stay alive, because many people would not?” Now I know what she meant. Now I understand what resilience is.

As for what I hope readers take away, I think it’s this: If you’re stuck in the messy middle, know there can be joy on the other side. There can be acceptance and forgiveness and, well, rage, too, if that helps. If even one person can find themselves in these stories and seize a little slice of hope, it will all be worth it.   

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: I have a few things in the works, including a poetry manuscript and a short story collection.

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: I wasn’t diagnosed with my learning disability until I was about 40 years old. As a neurodivergent person, my brain doesn’t always process in typical ways, especially regarding numbers and number-related information.

 

My Catholic school fifth-grade teacher, Miss Campbell, used me and my math worksheets, covered with red corrections, as a cautionary tale for my classmates. She frequently pointed out that I would never amount to anything without mastery of long division. I was going to fail in life.

 

I guess she was wrong. It has taken me many years to accept my brain, and my body, for that matter, as flawed and funny and beautiful and worthy of love.

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb