West Is San Francisco is the sequel to my gritty addiction memoir Between the Shadow and Lo. It’s weird, it’s dark, and it covers the first four years I spent in San Francisco working for a private detective, getting sober, and finally almost losing my mind to a cult-like startup and its sociopathic founder.
If you’re into transgressive fiction, autofiction, memoirs on alcoholism, or anything to do with narcissistic abuse, extreme codependency and/or fucked up toxic relationships, you’ll probably like it. You can now get it on Amazon in paperback or ebook.
All my life I’ve gotten into random conversations with people where the subject of our life trajectories comes up, and I always end up feeling kind of weird. This past weekend I hung out with a friend who told me he decided on his career path in high school, diligently researched colleges, applied himself strenuously to his field of study, threw himself at the best internships available, and then went on multiple rounds of job interviews with companies he had also heavily researched, and that’s how he ended up in his current job. He made a choice based on the menu of job options available in our society and then did everything he could to fit into that choice.
What about me? he asked.
This is when I felt that all-too-familiar weird feeling I always get during these discussions.
I got an email from a writer the other day asking about transgressive fiction. She had seen my previous article, What It’s Like to Be a Female Author Who Writes Transgressive Fiction, and she was curious about a couple of things. Number one, she wanted to know how I fueled my ideas to write in this genre, and two, she wanted to know how I handled the reactions of my friends and family members. In particular, did any of my friends and family think I was just writing about my “twisted fantasies”?