A Conversation with Wendy Adamson

Over the years, I've noticed that writers who are writing their personal stories often have one primary fear.

Exposure.

The fear of exposing themselves and other people—and not knowing how it will be received.

In the feature author interview this month, Wendy Adamson speaks about facing these fears and how she moved through them. Now with her second memoir out, she is blazing trails for anyone who might take that bold step.

A prequel to her first book, Incorrigible is a coming-of-age memoir about a teenager who is reeling from the devastation of her mother's suicide, landing her in the arms of addiction and the criminal justice system.

Wendy says she knew deep down that she is here on earth to tell her story, and that it has the potential to help others and change lives.

Scroll down to read the full interview.

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With over two decades of experience in the field of mental health and substance abuse treatment, Wendy Adamson possesses a deep understanding of the recovery process. She has held many positions throughout her career, but currently she works in Business Development at Polaris Teen Center, an inpatient facility that helps adolescents who are suffering with mental health issues while providing them a safe place to heal.

For the past seven years, Wendy has also headed up Business Development for her son’s nonprofit, Hav A Sole, an organization that has partnered with major NBA teams, and corporations like Nike to deliver over 30,000 high quality sneakers to at-risk youth, and more recently started a mentorship program for marginalized youth. In 2020 Rikki and Wendy’s inspiring story was featured on The Ellen DeGeneres Show.

Wendy is a published author of two memoirs, Mother Load and Incorrigible, where she documents her own struggles with addiction and mental health issues and the long arduous journey of healing and repair that came as a result of getting sober.

KARIN GUTMAN: Tell us about this new book of yours!

WENDY ADAMSON: My new book is called Incorrigible, which is actually a prequel to Mother Load, my first book. This one starts with me visiting my mother in a mental hospital as a small child, and recounts her suicide at seven years old and shows how unexpressed grief and loss unconsciously directs my life.

As a typical California kid of the 70s I take the reader through my teenage angst and self-destruction until I end up in the same hospital that my mother was in. Using alcohol and drugs to self-medicate I am eventually labeled INCORRIGIBLE by the courts and plucked from a lifestyle of privilege and introduced to the criminal justice system.

KARIN: I notice that your first book follows your journey as an adult, and then you follow it in the second book with the story of your childhood.

WENDY: I had to write my adult story first. I would attribute that to a health scare I had some years ago which made me feel an urgency to finish that book. So, after more than ten years I was finally able to get Mother Load published. It was only later, that I realized that I had glossed over much of my teenage years. And since I work in an adolescent mental health treatment center, I knew first hand that many teenagers were struggling, especially during Covid19 and they would be able to relate to a book like mine.

KARIN: What was the writing process like for this book? In what way was it similar or different from the first book?

WENDY: The writing process has become somewhat easier for me as I have developed a discipline. I go to bed early and wake up early so I can write. The structure developed as a result of having a day job. Over time, I learned that once I start working at the job, it can be hard getting back into the writing flow.

This book was also different because the Covid19 lockdown gave me more time. Like many people during 2020 I was anxious when Covid19 hit, not to mention everything else that was happening in our country. The chaos and uncertainty in some ways felt like my childhood, and I felt like I was on high alert. I don’t know if this makes any sense, but writing became a place to channel my energy in order to get the angst outside of me and onto paper. I strongly believe that writing is a therapeutic tool, but during the isolation of 2020, I found it to be absolutely necessary in getting through my day.

I also have more experience now and know that in order to keep developing the manuscript it helps to have a trusted editor giving you feedback along the way.

KARIN: What are you learning about your creative process?

WENDY: This may sound strange, but I’ve learned that writing about early life experience can be a portal to my ancestors. In writing Incorrigible, I was able to explore the relationship I had with my father. In some ways he always loomed in my consciousness as a monster, but the more I wrote, the more I began to see my own behavior as an unruly teenager. I was not an easy to kid to raise. Since I grew up in a family with a lot of secrets, I felt betrayed and wanted to make my father pay for his mistakes. In writing, as I dove deep into my childhood, I invoked unpleasant memories of how I treated my father. As a result of dissecting many of my actions, unsuspected empathy welled up in my heart for my father. And that was a gift I did not expect.

KARIN: That's incredible.

How easily do your memories come back to you as you write? Are you having to use your imagination a lot to fill in the details of the childhood scenes?

WENDY: Often I get flooded by memories when I write the scenes, but yes, I also use my imagination as well. In writing scenes of Camarillo State Mental Hospital or Sylmar Juvenile Hall I researched online and found articles and pictures of the institutions. This helped me immensely with the details of the environment I was in at the time. With dialogue, I don't remember every word that was said, but I try to capture the essence of the conversation as well as the dynamic between the two people who are talking. I also had the benefit of talking to my sister and brother to see what they remembered as I pieced the chapters together. Sometimes my timeline was off as I am going through dramatic events, and there were a lot of them in my childhood. But I think most writers of memoir use their imagination when it comes to early memories.

If only I knew I was going to be writing about all this one day, I would have taken better notes.

KARIN: Tell us about what you do to market your book, which is such a different mindset than writing.

WENDY: A marketing mindset feels like the other end of the spectrum from creative writing. It feels endless, and since I don’t have a publicist, I’m always questioning if I’m doing enough to get my book out there. There’s just so much to do. Come up with content for social media posts, composing a press release, trying to get on a podcast, a blog or organizing a virtual book launch. All of the details in marketing take me far away from my writing process, and if I’m not careful, I can go down the rabbit hole. Right now, I am considering hiring an intern to help me with details of social media, reaching out to podcasts and such. I just don’t have the time to do it all.

KARIN: Do you have a sense of how the first book is doing? I’m curious about what it's like to publish with a small press.

WENDY: Mother Load is selling slowly but mostly by word of mouth. I have a five-year contract with my publisher and at the end of that we can discuss renewing the contract or I can take it somewhere else.

I have a friend who published a book six years ago. She wasn’t happy with her first publisher, so after the contract was over she brought it to my publisher and was able to create a new book cover and add two chapters. It's going to be re-released again in the fall.

KARIN: Are you working on anything new? Do you have a sense of where your writing will go from here?

WENDY: Yes, I am deep into book three which is about my insane twenties. Seriously, if you’ve lived a life like mine, all that ‘drama’ makes for good content. Besides, it’s very satisfying to take the pain and struggle and turn it into something that might be able to help someone going through the same thing.

KARIN: How does it feel to have your life exposed so completely? I know this was a source of great fear in the early stages of your writing.

WENDY: The fear of being judged kept me small and not taking risks most of my life. I’m at a point now where I still get scared of exposing myself, but I do it anyway. Again, this kind of drive comes from a deep desire to use my story to inspire others to change the trajectory of their lives. After all, if I can do it, so can you.

I often wonder if I had read an author I could have related to when I was a kid, would it have made a difference? I know people that say that a certain book changed their lives, so why not?

KARIN: What would you say to someone who has a story to tell but is afraid of the exposure?

WENDY: I would tell the person I was afraid of the exposure as well because of a deep-seated shame that I carried into all aspects of my life. It was that shame that kept me from telling my story, the same shame that wanted me to stay small. It blocked my creativity, sabotaged my goals, and kept me from pursuing my dreams.

When you speak your truth and expose yourself you’re becoming the alchemist of your own life. It's challenging old thought patterns and constructs that have boxed you in. For me, the biggest payoff of all was that the shame didn’t own me anymore and I was finally free to pursue my dreams.

KARIN: What would you say to someone who has a story to tell but thinks they “aren’t a writer”?

WENDY: I would say I understand, and tell them I was a high-school drop-out with a rap-sheet and didn’t think I could get anything published. I told myself that no one would ever care about what I have to say. I had to challenge all of my old beliefs and take contrary action by doing multiple writing workshops with you, Karin. I had to have a safe place to write, because in the deepest part of me I knew I am here to tell my story. And in spite of the critic that tries to convince me with great authority that I am not a writer, I have been able to publish two books. That would have never happened if I would have listened to my head.



Buy the book!

To learn more about Wendy Adamson visit her site.

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A Conversation with Karen Kinney

One of my favorite things to do is talk to writers and artists about their creative process. What are their daily rituals? How do they go about developing their seedling ideas? While there is no single way, I believe these conversations can offer us insight, give us comfort and encouragement as we discover and learn to trust our own creative process - and come to own what we have to say as creative beings in this world.

My dear friend, Karen Kinney, is a fine artist who just released her book THE RELUCTANT ARTIST which is all about navigating and sustaining a creative path. In our discussion below, we dialogue about art and commerce, how to think about creative blocks, the importance (or not) of talent, and accepting the natural ebb and flow of the creative process. I hope you glean some new ways to think about how and what you are creating. I certainly did!

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Karen Kinney is a professional artist whose work has been in numerous exhibitions, both nationally and internationally. Her art was purchased for the Lionsgate film “The Lincoln Lawyer” and resides in private collections across the country, including those of actor Bob Odenkirk and NPR’s Guy Raz. Her work often begins with a paint stroke, a shred of paper, or some ink scratches on pages taken from old books. The use of vibrant colors is important to her, as it contributes to the feeling of something new emerging from what has been discarded. 

In addition to small-scale collages, she also creates large installations and is currently building a temporary installation for the Los Angeles International Airport. She has a Masters degree from the University of Chicago and lives in Los Angeles with her husband. 

In her debut book The Reluctant Artist, Karen compiles helpful insights to release greater creative freedom. She offers guidance and wisdom to navigate a winding creative path and stay motivated over the long haul. Both for those firmly established in a career and those just starting out, she reminds us of the value of creative expression and provides important keys to aid in its development.

To learn more, visit karenkinney.com

Karin: Let’s talk about art and commerce. You write a whole chapter devoted to it. How do you perceive the relationship between the two?

Karen Kinney: I make money through art, whether that’s through private commissions, selling existing work or public art projects. I also make money through odd jobs. My husband works at a 9-to-5 job. I am of the belief that fine art is best supported to reach its fullest creative potential when the pressure for it to consistently make money is removed, and it is allowed to be more organic and free. There are many other jobs that are more conducive to a regular, consistent paycheck. If I were the sole breadwinner, income would primarily come through other work, before putting pressure on my art to fill the role of a weekly paycheck.

Do you distinguish creativity as ‘pure’ and unrelated to commerce?

Creativity intersects with commerce all the time, and what this looks like varies greatly depending on what creative field you work in. I focus on the relationship between commerce and fine art in my book, which can look different than say, commerce and writing, or commerce and dance, etc. Because creativity is organic, meaning it does not usually take a linear path, generating money through it is more often than not a winding path. Developing a product with one’s art is one way to earn money more consistently. Some creative pursuits lend themselves much more easily to product than others, like offering a class for example. That is very much a product that can be sold and marketed fairly easily. But a product is different than creating for creating’s sake. And I find that in our capitalistic culture, money too easily becomes the lens through which we see all of life, including creativity and art, and I think this can often be to the detriment of creative expression.

I’m a believer in full freedom in terms of artists pursuing the path they want with money, but I think we need to have a conscious relationship with money and look honestly at its effects on art making and examine what happens to your art practice when it becomes solely a commodity. Because I think things do happen to it when it does. And those aren’t necessarily bad things for all people, but they can be. I find commerce can be a box at times that can limit what expression happens because certain kinds of expression just lend themselves better to being a product than others.

And I think we also need to be liberated from the belief that the value of the work we offer the world is only defined by monetary compensation - just because we live in such a capitalist society. I think it's the only lens we ever look at, in terms of valuing what we do in life. If everyone lived according to this belief, much important work in the world would never be done. So I mostly want to advocate that people look at how commerce impacts what they make and feel free to shift accordingly if they feel themselves burning out.

What if, say, you needed to return to social work to support yourself? Do you think that kind of work would suck you dry?

That’s a good question. If that were my situation, I wonder if I would then look at art not so much from a career point of view, which is how I’m looking at it now, but might see it more as a therapeutic thing that I need to do, just like I need to exercise. I wonder if my focus on it would shift so that it would really be purely something life-giving, to balance the reality of a 9-to-5 job. I mean, this is just theoretical, but maybe that's how I'd look at it.

So regardless of where money comes from, I still wouldn’t want to put unnecessary pressure on my art to make a living from it because of what I know it does to my own particular creative soul.

Would you say that it's important to find another consistent means of income to support yourself so that your art can be free to be what it needs to be?

Yes, I do think creativity operates best when it’s least restrictive. So even if some portion of your creativity is what you rely on for bread and butter -- whether that is a certain product that you made with it or something that sells well -- I think it's important as a creative person to have a space in your life with creativity that is unbounded and unassociated with money only because it fosters exploration. If your entire creative pursuit is dictated by making money, I don’t think you’re going to end up being very happy as a creative person, because where do you get to play? Or make a mistake? Or do something that nobody wants but you actually like it?

Perhaps it's best, then, to make money in something entirely unrelated to your art?

I think it leads to more joy. And I should qualify... this isn't true for everybody. Like some people who are more entrepreneurial in nature might find it really satisfying to make a work of art and have it sell regularly in demand; that might really fire them up. I think it's important to ask yourself, “What brings life to my soul?” That should be guiding the process. But in my experience I’ve met many artists who have gone the route of pure commercialism, believing that to be a successful artist they must make as much money as possible from their art, which I don't personally think is true. I think being a “successful” artist doesn’t have to be related to how much you get compensated. But anyway, I’ve known many artists who’ve gone the direction of needing their art to either produce a livelihood or at least a partial livelihood, and often burn out because it does require having a commodity, a product. 

So if someone likes a rectangle you made on a wall – and now they want it blue and now they want it in red – you churn out the same thing over and over again; for a lot of creative people that can get exhausting. It’s like, “Well, this might be selling and people want this, but I’d really like to make a triangle and not a rectangle, but no one wants to buy the triangle.” So I don't make it, and then I shut myself down. You know what I mean?

Or some people spend all their creative energy making a rectangle, so they don’t even have the energy for the triangle.

Right. Forget about even clueing into the fact that they want to make a triangle!

What would you say to the person whose income-producing job leaves very little time or energy to pursue their art at all?

That’s a very real problem too. Definitely, I feel like that’s really hard to balance, especially when you have a family and child, and you know, that all complicates life choices. I would say for people who feel like they don't see any space for anything. I would just try to encourage them to carve out 15 minutes on a regular basis to do something creative that makes them happy. That could be worth doing just for their own psychological wellbeing, whether or not it goes anywhere. And I feel like that's always doable when we think about just tiny, tiny steps. So that sometimes helps to break it down as opposed to getting overwhelmed by the enormity of, “Oh now I want to become a composer or filmmaker,” or whatever. These big, large ideas overwhelm us and we don't take action, all because daily life is just enough to handle. So sometimes just even small, tiny movement over time can open up something in us that grows potentially.

I'm a big believer that our stories are meant to be shared. So how do you balance valuing the creative process versus the discipline required to complete something so it can be shared?

Yeah, I am also very much an advocate of sharing your creative work with the world. That's probably what drives me the most with creating; I want it to impact people and impact the larger culture. So I almost always create with an end goal in mind. I actually am a very disciplined person by nature, which helps obviously. Especially because a lot of what I do is self-driven, and then once I create it, I go find a place in the world for it. That requires being fairly self-driven and structured. But I try to balance between moving intuitively with my creative work and then bringing in a structure to complete it.

So I'm not regimented when it comes to the actual creative process or thinking up ideas or having the birth of some new thing in my spirit. I kind of let that be very free-flow. But once something's been established in my mind like, “Okay I’m seeing this idea and getting thoughts around it,” then I’d say that's where my structured mind kicks in, and I’m like, “OK let’s start working on this and showing up for this every day to do it.” And then when it’s finished find the right place for it to go. For me that would be a gallery exhibit - or if I wanted to sell work in a store - or find another public art opportunity, or whatever. It takes different forms.

At what point do you step in and start to structure it?

In the beginning, I give things space to just kind of form - start writing whatever it is, or start drawing on the paper, or whatever it is you're doing. But I really take an observer role and I watch it and I don't just let myself go on forever. It's more like I'm working with it. I talk about this concept a bit in my chapter on listening. So as I'm writing, or as I'm painting the thing, I watch what's forming so I can get in sync with what it wants to be. Because I think usually creations have something they want to be if we're willing to partner with them; it doesn't just have to be us imposing our structure on something. I think we can have this reciprocal relationship that we're creating. So as I listen to it and observe it, that actually helps me with the structure. I'm like, “Oh here are clues for what I think this wants to be. Now what structure can I bring in to support what's already forming?”

I love that idea of partnering with our creative projects. So what about writer's block? Do you believe in it?

A writer's block or a creative block... Yes, I think there are always times when we get stuck or don't know how to move forward and I think that happens for different reasons. There are times when we are feeling resistance and we maybe know what's on our plate or we know the project we're trying to birth - and it's just like we're being resistant to showing up for it. And so that would be one category of resistance. In those cases it's helpful to either trick ourselves into creating or jumpstart ourselves - taking a walk or doing an experimentation or whatever mind trick we need to do to jumpstart our creativity again - if we feel like we're just not showing up because we are not feeling it.

But then I think there are other times--and you can look at my chapter “The Ebb and Flow”-- where the creative process seems to shut off completely. Those periods where it's like, “OK I've tried all my little tricks to get myself to create. I've done all these things and there's absolutely nothing, zero. I feel nothing. I have no ideas, like a blank.” I think those seasons also happen on the creative path. And I've learned over time to be much more OK when they come and more able to ride them out. Whereas I think when I first experienced times like that, I freaked out as I go, “Oh my god, what's happening? Am I not going to create ever again? What's wrong with me?” But I think over time I've realized that there is a natural ebb and flow to creating - sometimes there are longer periods where we just aren't creating. I call them dormant seasons and I think it's in those seasons when deeper things are allowed to process and kind of go underground that will surface in our future seasons of renewed activity. Basically there's value in having space in life. We live in a culture that basically says you have to be “on” all the time and I would question that because that doesn't allow for renewal, it doesn't allow for rest; it doesn't allow for new ideas to foster and incubate and then come out later. I think there are periods of what seems like stillness, and I think they are actually necessary and a valuable part of the creative path. But you're not going to get that affirmed in the larger culture; the larger culture doesn't understand. If you're not constantly producing, constantly active, you're told, “What's wrong with you?” But we're not machines.

If something completely new is going to be birthed... I can use pregnancy as an example. When a woman is pregnant, everything that's happening is happening inside. But it’s certainly super valuable - you don't have the option of skipping that stage! If you’re going to produce something really different or not the status quo, it would need time to come out. But the time before it comes out might not look like much is happening.

Do you think much about talent? Whether you or someone else is talented?

It’s not actually something I think about very often. I think people do have an innate talent, but I don’t think that means people can't be creative. I think everyone has something creative to express, a piece of their soul to express to the world. And so I like to encourage people to see the possibilities in their life. I think people too often get fixated on seeing themselves as deficient. And I think, “Well, that doesn't help get us anywhere.” I can do the same in my own life, like “Where am I not measuring up?” Or “I'm not good enough” you know. That's not a helpful message to perpetuate. I feel like we need to be affirming people's potential and everyone has creative potential. So whether they have a more natural inclination for something or not, I feel like they can still express who they are to the world and leave the world better for it. Really people should just do what brings them joy. Look for what lights you up inside or what's life-giving for you, because you're going to be happier.

Of course, the peaks and valleys are par for the course when creating. So when do you know if it's truly time to shelve a project?

I actually end up finishing most things, which is, from what I understand from other artists, a bit atypical. I have a very strong left brain, in addition to the right brain, so I think that makes me a bit of an anomaly, or less common at least, in the artist world.

I think one gauge is what I referenced before. “Is this project life-giving?” Because I think if a project is feeding us in addition to us feeding it, then it has greater potential to be finished or is easier to see through in the midst of the peaks and valleys or the times we're frustrated or want to end it. I think it helps increase the odds that it will be finished. So that's why for me, if it's just totally life-sucking for me, it makes more sense for me to shelve those kind of things and resume with something that has more of an energetic spark. There has to be life coming back.

Also, I think having a strong sense of self really helps a lot, because if you're clear about who you are and what your own creative voice looks and sounds like, you have a better sense of when a project really aligns with your dharma and it's bursting to the finish line, versus when it might be something that's more in the camp of experimentation and it's not necessarily meant to go all way. So I think having a strong sense of your creative voice can help to make those kinds of decisions.

I've noticed in my writing workshops some people feel compelled to underline that they are NOT a writer. And yet, there they are writing! Why do you think  people are reluctant to call themselves a writer or an artist?

It's a good question, because the whole journey to be able to call myself an artist took time. And I envision the same will be true of calling myself a writer. And why is that? I think people maybe just need to have enough lived experience to feel like they can really own that, whether that's psychologically or confidence-wise or to feel emotionally connected. Who knows how people relate to those titles? But I feel like for me in terms of “art” I needed to be at a certain level of confidence, whether in having completed enough art projects and shown them to the world or done the things which, in my mind, felt like, “This is what artists do and I'm doing these things before I can call myself an artist.” People have definitions around what all these things mean. But whatever those definitions are, I think people need time to journey down their path and own it. And it's not an overnight process. Ownership of identity means different things to different people. It's a very personal journey.

Was there any one thing that helped push you over the edge?

There were several markers that did matter. When people did first buy my art, that was a big deal, it did mean something to me. Or when I was in my first gallery show, that really did mean something to me. So the traditional markers people use did impact me and it did have significance for me in my journey. And even though in my own evolution I've evolved to a place of self-value that isn't reliant on those markers, it doesn't mean they didn't play a role. And so I think when people first purchased my art and the gallery exhibition in particular - when those first began - that was really exciting and it helped me feel like, “Oh, I am an artist.” These signposts for the things that the world defines, that mean you are one, they do still affect me even though I do ascribe to gain value from some kind of higher plane, but it doesn't mean they don't have meaning and value. The only problem for me with those markers is when they become the only things that people identify themselves by and then they start to be controlled by them; then I think that's a problem. But they serve a purpose for sure.

If there is one takeaway from your book, what would it be?

That there's value in your creative expression. I really want people to be -- not just encouraged in a general sense, but hopefully come away with a deeper belief in the value of what they have to offer the world, because that can drive all kinds of good things. And I feel like the other things will get figured out, like where the money comes from and how this works and what the journey looks like; those are all challenges everyone has to figure out for themselves. But if you're driven by a deep belief in the value of what you're doing, that's what's going to propel you over the long haul.

To learn more about Karen, visit karenkinney.com

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