Finding the Scenes that Bring Your Memoir to Life with Marianna Marlowe

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:00]
Well, hello, Mariana. Welcome to the Writing Your Resilience podcast. I am so happy to have you on today.

Mariann Marlowe [0:06]
Thank you. I’m so happy to be here.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:09]
Well, it’s a joy for me, because you are one of my newsletter followers—and you’ve been a follower for a while. I was so excited and honored to have the opportunity to celebrate this book you worked so hard to publish. That book is Portrait of a Feminist. I’m going to hold it up for anyone watching on YouTube. I love the cover—it’s beautiful.

Mariann Marlowe [0:34]
Thank you. I published with She Writes Press, and they use a collaborative process for the cover. I’m really happy with the result.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:43]
I’m going to ask you more about that in a moment. But before we get started, I always like to give my guests a chance to tell us a little about themselves. What would you like us to know about you—and about Portrait of a Feminist?

Mariann Marlowe [0:57]
I’ve been a lifelong feminist and a lifelong reader. I wrote academically—I have my PhD in literature—but my career shifted when I became a mom. Fast forward through my children’s childhoods: the same year I turned 50, my oldest went to college, and something—I’m not even sure what—triggered me to start writing memoir. Maybe it was Abigail Thomas and her vignette style. I wish I knew.

I clearly needed a purpose. My focus had been on motherhood and homemaking. I ran book clubs. I read constantly. I had intellectual conversations. But I didn’t have anything beyond those roles. Something triggered me, and I decided to try writing. It worked out. I love it, and it’s become both a passion and a purpose. I don’t know how I could survive emotionally and psychologically without it. I’m 58 now, so it’s been eight years.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [2:15]
Can you tell me a little more about that? You said you don’t feel like you could survive without it. What does that mean to you?

Mariann Marlowe [2:21]
Well, I don’t mean it with hyperbole. What I mean is, without writing, I wouldn’t feel fulfilled. I’d be an empty husk walking around, looking for something to engage me, to allow me to contribute to my community and the world. Writing is both a pleasure and a contribution.

I love how it makes me feel—shaping words, sentences, creating narrative art. But I also see it as having a conversation with my community and contributing ideas, thoughts, and maybe even entertainment. That makes me feel positive about myself as I enter what I hope is the third part of my life.

I’ve also been reading about how women, after their kids leave home—or after menopause—enter a stage of freedom and liberation to create and live differently. That’s been true for me. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t know it was happening. But it did.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [3:37]
I love that answer. It reminds me of a podcast I listened to a while ago on Marie Forleo’s show, where she had a neuroscientist on. She talked about the pruning process that happens during perimenopause and menopause. As our hormones shift, certain brain cells die off, while others take over, redirecting our motivations.

When we have higher levels of estrogen and progesterone, our bodies are more geared toward caring for others. As those hormones decrease, our desire to nurture others isn’t as strong, and we become more willing to look inward, to care for ourselves, and to think about who we are beyond the identities society expects from us.

So, it makes sense that this is your experience. I’ve talked to many women who feel the same way—that creativity and generation become central in this stage of life.

I want to focus on your book now. You said you’ve been a lifelong feminist. The title is Portrait of a Feminist. That word means different things to different people. So, when you say you’re a feminist, and when you talk about feminism in your book, what do you mean?

Mariann Marlowe [5:36]
At its core, my feminism has always meant the same thing. It’s evolved with my personal development, education, and life experience, but the foundation hasn’t changed. To me, it’s a very humanist philosophy: everyone is equally valuable.

It’s not man against woman or husband against wife. We humans have erected walls—hard to see, hard to get past—that confine us. Feminism, for me, is about stepping outside those walls. It’s about observing, analyzing, strategizing, and creating as interconnected human beings—not tethered to prejudices, norms, or belief systems that rank people by worth, value, or power.

Some people think feminism means hating men. It’s the opposite. In my book, I write about how I once thought I’d have daughters—little “mini-mes”—and that we’d redefine gender roles together. Instead, I had two sons. Motherhood made me realize even more clearly that patriarchy harms everyone, including those who seem to hold the most power.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [8:19]
So what I hear is that feminism, for you, is non-hierarchical. It’s about equality—everyone has equal value and freedom to do what they choose. No one is above anyone else.

That reminds me of a personal story. When I was seven or eight, growing up in the early 80s in upstate New York, I went to a neighbor’s house to play. The dad came out shaking his fist and asked, “Are you one of those feminists? Because if you are, I’ll knock you out.”

I didn’t even know what a feminist was at that age. I said no. He replied, “Good, you better not become one.” It was confusing and frightening.

That experience stayed with me—and it’s why I wanted to ask you what you mean by the word. There are so many misconceptions. People equate it with “woke culture” or say it’s negative, when really, it’s about deconstructing harmful hierarchies and creating equality and opportunity for everyone.

With that in mind, I’m thinking about the prologue of your book, where you describe teaching and asking your students what it means to be a feminist. In some ways, the book feels like a series of lessons or an instruction manual on feminism. Do you see it that way, or differently?

Mariann Marlowe [11:27]
I see it in a different way. I see it as showing—through my own experiences—how individual, nuanced, complicated, complex, multilayered, and multifaceted feminism can be. Life as a woman comes first, and then feminism is another layer.

What I wanted to show were moments in my life. That’s why I think the essay form works best. Each essay is a chapter that could stand alone, but each represents a moment in my life that affected my feminism. I had a beta reader once say, “There’s nothing feminist about this book, except that one chapter where she rescued her friend.” But what I’m trying to do is complicate the definition of feminism in a good way—to study it and look at it more deeply.

I use my own life as an example. Watching someone else go through something affected me and shaped my ideas about what it meant to be a girl or a woman, and what it means to want equality. I use that word—equality—even though it’s problematic. It carries assumptions and limitations, but let’s use it for now.

So, it’s not so much a how-to or an instruction manual. It’s more like pay attention. Pay attention to ourselves, our lives, other people. Notice our positions in different contexts. Where do I have privilege? Where do I not? Where am I invisible? Where do I have a voice? And why? That, to me, is so key.

Analyze. Become self-aware. Observe. Always interrogate your own positionality. And by interrogate, I don’t mean in a negative way. I mean question, observe, study. If you do that—if you turn that lens inward and become self-aware—that is part of the evolution of the human psyche.

The biggest message I want readers to take from my book is this: see what the world looks like if you step outside of the box. See what your own life and your own self look like if you do the same. I want to make the point that any identity, any movement, any philosophy is complex and shifting.

I had to learn this. When I was young, I was a rigid, binaristic feminist. Over time, I realized it’s more kaleidoscopic—the parts are there, but they shift and move. It’s less about “this is always right, that is always wrong,” and more about embracing nuance. I want my book to reflect that complexity and thoughtfulness around identity—especially gendered identity.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [14:33]
Yes. And you chose memoir and essays, which means each piece is self-contained, yet together they tell a larger story. Through that form, you’re able to explore feminism from different lenses and angles, so that readers can see it as complex and somewhat shapeshifting.

I’d also imagine that for you, as someone who has lived in so many different places—Peru, Ecuador, the United States—and who has navigated different identities (a father who was an atheist, a mother who was a Peruvian Catholic), that those layers must have influenced your understanding of feminism. How have those identities and cultural influences shaped the way you inhabit feminism?

Mariann Marlowe [15:42]
This is at the beginning of my book, because it’s foundational to my identity as a feminist. I grew up seeing myself as my mother’s protector and lawyer against my dad. I think my feminism was honed in that dynamic. Even as a very young child, I thought, this is not right. This is not fair. I would argue for my mom to my dad.

So early on, I was toggling between two extreme personalities. My mother absorbed and internalized ideas of beauty and femininity—and I partially internalized them because I was so close to her. For her, ideal beauty meant straight hair, not curly. It meant don’t be too outspoken, don’t be too loud, always dress appropriately, don’t be tacky. I internalized a lot of that.

But in my core, I always felt: That’s not real. That’s a construct. I could see why my mother was that way, and even why I wanted to be that way, but I knew it wasn’t the only option.

Growing up with different cultural influences reinforced this. I went to missionary school. I attended Catholic catechism classes. I went to evangelical missionary school. I went to Catholic school for high school. My dad was an atheist. I saw how ideas of femininity and masculinity varied depending on the culture.

Ideal femininity looked different in Peru in the 1960s or 1980s than it does on the West Coast today. You can pick any community, and gender constructs will shift. I was absorbing that lesson even before university and graduate school, where I later studied it overtly. That lived experience across cultures taught me that these ideals are constructs—fluid and context-dependent.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [17:58]
Yes, and that comes through in your writing. I’d love to talk about Wrinkles, one of my favorite essays in your book. It’s about your mom and her sister, and it wrestles with beauty. Many of your essays explore the gaze—the male gaze on you as a woman, your gaze toward others, your gaze toward yourself. Could you share a little about that essay, what you hoped to accomplish, and how you wrote it?

Mariann Marlowe [18:43]
I think I wrote that essay because of the massive impact the cosmetic industry has on women—from cosmetic surgery to makeup to potions and lotions. My mom had a facelift and a tummy tuck. Her sister—my aunt—did not. I was trying to figure out why.

My aunt is extremely superficial and materialistic—maybe even more so than my mom—but she never had plastic surgery. When it came up, she’d say her beloved husband didn’t want her to go under the knife. So, she didn’t. But my mother did, and she looked fabulous. I knew why she did it, and I was happy for her.

That essay became an exploration. What if we were aliens coming to Earth—what would we think about facelifts, tummy tucks, fillers, Botox? These things have become normalized, but they’re not normal if you step outside the box.

At the same time, I’m not judging. I wear makeup. I love it. I love picking out clothes, thinking about colors. Last spring, in Marrakech, I insisted on wearing my wedge sandals even though I fell three times in the first two days because of potholes. I still wore them—I felt cute and happy in them.

So, I’m not saying caring about appearances is bad. But it becomes troubling when it’s an industry that cuts people open and risks their health for ideals. For example, the author of The First Wives Club died on the operating table of a plastic surgeon.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [21:10]
Yes.

Mariann Marlowe [21:11]
So again—it’s about nuance. Understanding why we are the way we are. Why was my mother so invested in me having straight hair? Why was she so invested in my sister having blonder hair, even putting highlights in it? Why did she undergo surgery while my aunt, who was more materialistic, did not?

By the end of that essay, I venture some answers. You can never really know for sure, but I tried. Ultimately, the essay is an exploration of why we do what we do, why we feel these pressures. My hope is that by looking from the outside in, we might understand our motivations—and maybe that understanding could be liberating.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [22:08]
Yeah, and what I hear in the way you’ve approached your writing is that you’ve had these big ideas you want to explore. Why are some of us gravitating toward cosmetic surgery? What does that say about how we’ve been conditioned around beauty? Who gets to define what “beautiful” is? What do we internalize about beauty?

So, you had these big ideas, and then you had to figure out which stories from your life illustrated them. I don’t know if this is correct, so I’m going to check in with you: because you have an academic background, did a more deductive approach—starting with the big idea and breaking it down—feel natural? Whereas someone else might collect a bunch of stories first and then ask, what does this say? What was your process?

Mariann Marlowe [23:11]
That’s a really good question given my history. I was an academic, and I had to learn the language of academia—the jargon where you never use “I,” except to say, “I argue” or “I posit.” It’s a whole different discourse.

My PhD was deeply informed by feminist theory, race studies, queer studies, gender studies—I did all of it. I had this idea that I wanted to write a memoir, and because I’m so saturated with feminism, I can’t separate myself from it. I actually tried to write a more traditional, linear memoir. I gave it to a writing coach, and she immediately said there was way too much telling, too many academic words popping up, and not enough showing.

Then I read Lisa Dale Norton’s craft book Shimmering Images. Her concept is that the scenes that don’t leave you alone—the moments that surface in the middle of the night or when you bite into a chocolate chip cookie—are “shimmering images.” Because they shimmer and hover, there’s something there. She recommends starting with a shimmering image. That really worked for me.

So “Wrinkles” starts with me looking at a photo of my uncle and my aunt. I know she’s very wrinkly—unlike my mom. From that small moment of observation came other memories connected by the theme of gendered pressure to look a certain way, to spend money, and sometimes to risk your health.

I revamped my structure. I took a short class at The Writing Salon in San Francisco with an amazing instructor, Kathleen McClung. Every two weeks we had to write 2,000 words around a prompt based on a reading. That worked so well for me. I’m an earnest student—I could never skip the homework. I’d take the prompt and angle it toward feminism and identity.

We’d hand out copies, read our work aloud, and then everyone discussed it for 20 minutes. That trained me to draft a complete essay every two weeks. Then COVID happened, and all hell broke loose, and for some reason I became incredibly productive. I wrote so much because I was already on a roll. Many essays in Portrait of a Feminist are from that time.

Through that practice, I got scene work in—I learned showing as well as telling—and I developed stronger reflection and musing. That format trained me, and so far, I love it. I’m still with it.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [26:55]
I love that format. What I hear is that you first tried a linear approach, and it wasn’t working. Then you moved to the idea of the shimmer—collecting those moments that haunted you. That photograph of your aunt and uncle where they look so in love and she’s so wrinkly and old, which, when we think about “ideal beauty,” isn’t how we’re trained to see it.

You took those shimmers and asked, what feminist angle can I apply to this image that won’t let go? During the pandemic—when for some people productivity exploded and for others it stalled—you landed in the camp where the world fell away, and the shimmers became more vivid. You engaged with them and, through repeated practice, honed the skills that helped you write this book.

Now you’re in launch mode—your book is out in the world. Many consider the launch year a gauntlet. How are you caring for yourself, in a feminist way, while doing all the outward-facing work promotion requires?

Mariann Marlowe [28:58]
I’m really good at caring for myself, if I do say so. Early on—in grad school—I decided: every day I’m going to have my cup of tea (or more than one). Every day I’m going to sit in the patch of sun. Every day I’m going to watch the TV that suits me. Even when I had kids, even while writing my dissertation, even in the past 20 years as a hands-on mom, I always made time for that.

Not only does it keep me sane; it makes life better. I grew up in cultures where it’s not constant go-go-go. If I’m not harried and sweating, it doesn’t mean I’m not being productive. That was not always my model, and I resist the American urgency. I’ll do what I do when I do it, and I’ll do it well—but I don’t have to overextend myself. Some people thrive doing many things at once. That’s great, but it’s not me.

As for the launch year, I’m learning what I’ve read and heard: it takes time away from writing. That’s hard for me because I’m not a natural salesperson. I feel awkward. I’m a lifelong reader and academic. To me, the writing should speak for itself, not the author having to hop everywhere.

So, I’m strategizing how to sell books in a way that suits me. I’m also doubling down on; Let’s go sit on the patio; it’s sunny; butterflies finally came to the garden after I planted the butterfly bushes; let’s have tea and maybe talk with someone.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [31:12]
I love that. Those are great strategies. Because you grew up in cultures with different senses of time and urgency, you can use that as part of your operating system—also for selling the book. You’re asking, What’s the one or two things I can do effectively, rather than the ten thousand things I could do.

I want people to read your book and see how you help us understand the inward and outward gaze through your beautiful stories, which are still with me. If people want to connect with you, learn more about your work, and buy Portrait of a Feminist, what are the best ways to reach you?

Mariann Marlowe [32:24]
I have a website: mariannamarlowe.com—Marianna with two n’s and Marlowe with an e. I’d love it if you left me a message and started a dialogue.

To buy my book, I recommend ordering from a local bookstore or, if you go online, Bookshop.org. The book is also readily available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [32:53]
All of those links will be in the show notes. Listeners, please connect with Marianna. Have a dialogue—that sense of connection is a deeply feminist act. Learn more about what she’s up to and hopefully catch her at an event as she promotes the book—doing the one or two things she does well during her launch.

Thank you so much, Marianna, for being on the podcast today. It’s been an absolute pleasure, and I’m wishing you all the best with your book.

Mariann Marlowe [33:36]
Thank you so much. I really appreciate all your communication and the work you do for the writing community. I love your newsletter and the way you promote writers by saying, “Share your milestones, share your publications.” I love that community you’ve been building.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [33:53]
Thank you so much—and thank you for being part of that community. That’s what makes this so special: you’ve been part of it. We’ve had dialogues over the years; I’ve read your published essays; we announced your book in my newsletter; and today you’re on the show. Thank you.

Mariann Marlowe [34:12]
Yes. Thank you. Thank you.