I've Been Writing Forever

But Does that Give Me the Right to Write about My Family?

I’ve been writing for a lot of years and even though a journalist’s thoughts are certainly personal, my articles haven’t caused me to curl up in a ball after they’re published - even though some of my editors may have wanted to do precisely that.  Realistically, what I’ve written hasn’t necessitated my doing extensive soul-searching because travel articles rarely do. Nor do profiles of others.

As has been my MO, I have fallen into careers for which I’m not really qualified; from the restaurant business, to financial services, to marketing and promoting the City of Boston’s Economic Development Agency. And, most important, to being an internet pioneer. BonjourParis.com was the first English language website about Paris, which launched on AOL’s Travel Channel in 1991. It was nothing like today’s websites but it was innovative and I was lucky enough to become its President.

How did I become a (I hope) respected journalist? Part of my success has been due to hard work; much of it can be attributed to showing up and never missing a deadline. Part of it might be because I’ve asked and have been willing to take no for an answer.  But most of it must be attributed to sheer luck.

I studied design and was okay being an interior designer. I’d taken a few journalism classes but the J School professor said I lacked imagination as well as talent.  I accepted his evaluation with a modicum of relief, because the idea of competing with my mother, Jeanne Viner Bell, was terrifying.  She was an extraordinary writer and editor and ultimately became President of the American Newspaper’s Women’s Club.  Mother compulsively edited everything, including milk cartons. And bless her, she edited every article, and I mean every article I wrote, AFTER it was published so I might learn something.

As much as I tried, NOT writing articles wasn’t meant to be. One of the editors of the Washington Star’s Sunday Home Life magazine asked me to do some design scouting and I jumped on it. I hoped it might generate design business and I didn’t love design nor dealing with clients’ curtains. Not only did I have to please them but also their friends or perhaps a neighbor or two.

Abby had enough faith in me (or was it because the magazine was so short-staffed?) that she agreed I could do write some articles, which ultimately morphed into developing and producing cover stories. No one was more surprised or pleased than I, when I started having regular bylines.  And no one was more surprised than I when I was able to collect unemployment when the paper folded even though I felt guilty doing so until I was convinced I’d been paying into the unemployment fund and it was my right.

As a journalist, I loved writing for various publications including the Washington Star, travel articles for The Washington Times and numerous features. I especially liked the ones I wrote for USA Today International after I moved to Europe with my second husband. I flunked “trailing spouse” and needed to a gig to keep me busy. And interested.

I didn’t have the right to work in France (much less the French language acuity) and pitched a story to USA Today about EuroDisney obtaining the right to import American beef to its new theme park outside of Paris.  Little did I predict that some red meat would launch my European career that continued for nearly 30 years.

The Expat Abroad columns gave me license, or I took it, to ask people “none of my business questions” with relative impunity.  Because my husband traveled throughout Europe and Asia for AIG (American International Group) and I was able to accompany him, I was in the right places at the right time and USA Today didn’t have to pay my travel expenses. Just my fax bills - a real bargain.

As a result, my articles were filed from Europe and in Asia and no one took exception to what I wrote, the exception of my article about Michael Faye.  After that story, I was instructed to leave Singapore.

Even though I was being paid a very minimal amount, I learned so much about so many different cultures. It was a priceless education that has shaped my outlook on the world and enriched my life.

I’ve had a good life in Washington DC.  But I will never regret all of my years living in Paris and following my husband. While Victor was sitting in negotiations in high rise office building, I was hitting the streets and speaking to anyone who’d speak to me. I saw so much more of Bangkok, Hong Kong (where we cumulatively lived for 6 months), Vietnam and other places in Asia than he did. He didn’t have the pleasure of interviewing Captain Condom in Bangkok while watching a vasectomy being performed.

Then there were some incredibly memorable travels. Suzy Gershman, a dear friend, was constantly traveling to write her Born to Shop books.  She’d invite me to accompany her even though I wasn’t a first-rate shopper.  We had fun and saw a lot. Suzy’s books were wonderful travel guides and we hit a lot of back alleys looking for the secret factory that manufactured leather goods or whatever. Naturally, we were forced to find hotels and restaurants for readers.

Now, so many years later, I am writing about others as well as myself. Should I?   It’s difficult and I am having to think long and hard. Am I being too hard on my subjects? Am I being 100% truthful? As most of the people about whom I am writing are dead, am I being completely honest? No one is around to sue me much less correct my recollections.

Actually, I wish there were a few people with whom to share these stories and serve as reality checks. The ones who are around, pretty much agree with me, with the exception of one man who worked on a bank board with Mother. Walter said that if Mother were alive, she’d “tear out my hair.”  But he didn’t contradict the validity of my memories.

I’ve been reading author and professor Mary Karr’s book, “The Art of the Memoire” which gives wannabe authors quasi carte blanche to write their memories even if not 100% accurate.  She discusses her rape, other people’s incest and things that might undoubtedly make her subjects crawl under a rock.  Are her accounts 100% true or do they verge on being fiction?  My guess is a bit of both.

I’m not going to divulge EVERYTHING lascivious that has ever happened to me – even though I may end up revealing more than I should.  Contrasted with Mary Karr, I don’t have her writing skills nor her imagination.  I just have recollections.

Now I am having intense snapshots, often disjointed, of events and people. It’s a fact that people’s memories, especially after a certain age, may be faulty. But I am recalling some things as if it were yesterday, whether or not they be true.  The dilemma is whether or not to publish them. Some days I am certain I should. And other days not…

Photo of Suzy Gershman and me in Hanoi, Vietnam