The Story Behind Displaced (Memoir)

I hope you’ll indulge me in a personal story about my recently published memoir:

In 2007, I was working on a project collecting oral histories from displaced New Orleanians who relocated to Houston. It was an ambitious project through a university. I joined a group of a dozen other people who, like me, had left the city. We were all searching for what to do next.

As part of our training, we had to tell our own stories first. We were all, in one way or another, in the city when it flooded. And we had been digging our way out ever since.

It was a sort of group therapy. We participated in workshops with therapists trained in Dr. James Pennebaker’s method of Expressive Writing.

We gathered each week to share our stories, to canvas the community, record others’ stories, and to shed tears and celebrate together in equal measure.

It was a lot.

Through the course of the summer project, I recorded dozens of stories. I started writing essays about New Orleans based on the journals I had kept before, during, and after the flood. The essays expanded into a now-defunct blog. At first, it was only for my personal healing. A way to put myself back together.

But over time, I realized I had something to say about the wider experience of rebuilding the city. I was a storyteller by trade: a film editor and researcher. I knew there was a lot I could say as an outsider/insider. I was someone who chose New Orleans as my home. Someone who felt forced out by circumstances.

I started to pick apart my memories and applied to an MFA program in creative nonfiction. My world is, and was, the world of nonfiction narratives. I was accepted into a program in Boston and set off for two years of grad school poverty and strenuous writing and workshop sessions. It helped me shape my memories into something cohesive. It became something that spoke to the how and why so many of us chose that place at that time.

The initial reception from agents was good. I got positive feedback. However, “Katrina fatigue” was a real thing in 2009. No one was publishing these books. All the “Katrina books” had come and gone. I was a nobody. I wasn’t famous. I didn’t have prestigious bylines. I had no large audience and no connections to speak of. And I was still grieving, although I didn’t realize it at the time.

But I spent a glorious two years in Boston, where I got to dig deep and write long. One entire wall of my tiny 250-square-foot apartment was covered with index cards and notes. I was piecing together my essays and memories into something I could share.

And at the end of my time there, I had a finished manuscript. But there was no book deal. I was out of money, out of time, and finally ready to move on to a new life and a new career in magazine publishing.

I put the manuscript in a box. I saved the files to an external drive. And I went on with my life and career back in Texas.

I still went to New Orleans. Still visited friends. Although, the trips became fewer and further apart. In 2018, I was hired to write a magazine piece on the Bywater and I interviewed talented, optimistic young artists who carried forward the tradition of struggle and artistry in the city. It was their city now. I had become an old auntie so proud of their success.

And my book kept nagging at my soul.

Until 2020, when we all had a lot of time to think.

It was the 15-year anniversary of the flood, and I went on a road trip to think about my life. Something I hadn’t done in years. I realized I needed and wanted to publish the book. It no longer mattered whether I found an agent or a publisher. I wanted to publish it for myself. I found an incredible designer who took my vague idea and created a cover I loved. (It’s the cover we used.)

Another two years went by. I was building my business and living my life. There wasn’t time for a book. Business was booming, I had a million logs on the fire, and I didn’t remember where I’d put that hard drive.

Finally, in 2024, I found the hard drive in my office closet. I opened the files. I took a break between work projects and knew it was time to make a decision: either edit and publish the book or let it go and stop thinking about it.

Halfway through reading the manuscript, I knew I had to start editing.

I worked with a human editor (Reedsy is a great resource) and also experimented with large language models (LLMs). Mixed results on AI editing. I don’t think we’ll be losing our jobs any time soon.

In 2025, I did all the things. Registered my LLC with the Library of Congress as a small publisher. Registered the copyright. Assembled the files. Yes, I wish I would’ve done one more round of copy editing, but such is life. No work is perfect.

And that was my biggest lesson in all this: there is no reason to wait for perfection. Waiting for “perfect” is why it took me 20 years to publish. I was waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect agent, the perfect editor, the perfect feeling … I was waiting for a perfect alignment of stars instead of sitting down, doing the rough work of editing, and facing my fear of publishing this story.

If there’s one thing I would say to aspiring writers, it is this: Don’t wait. Not for agents or publishers or even yourself to “feel it.” Allow yourself the grace and freedom to tell your stories. Give yourself permission to do the hard work of writing and editing. You don’t need external permission. Things will never be “perfect.”

Each of us has a story worth telling, and you have every right to tell yours … in whatever medium speaks to you.

Gotta be honest, though, the first couple of months after publication were rough.

It will throw you for a loop when your family and friends read intimate details of your thoughts and memories. I had a rough time at first and did some therapy. Ultimately, it was healing. I felt released. That journey is a whole different story! The bottom line: it was worth it.

If you’ve read Displaced, I hope you got value from it. And I hope it encourages you in some small way to tell your own stories. I believe we are spiritual beings having a human experience, and sharing our experiences brings us all closer to a higher good.

A Displaced reading guide is available for download with discussion questions and suggestions for further reading and viewing.