If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I write WALLFLOWER. If you are a returning reader, thank you for your continued support! I deeply appreciate the time you are taking out of your busy day to accompany me.

The Publishing Journey

The road to publishing WALLFLOWER has been more frustrating than I ever imagined. At times, it feels more frustrating than writing the book itself. I’ve learned along the way that it is more difficult to break into the memoir genre for several reasons.

Unlike fiction, memoirs are a difficult sell to publishing agencies because they are viewed as a “one-book journey.” Publishing companies look to literary agents for a good book sell. There’s no promise or backup of a series or a long-term string of books to follow from the same author. It’s difficult to build an author’s career from that one book.

Timing is everything when it comes to finding a literary agency to represent you in the first place. For instance, they may have recently sold a similar book, or they may not be looking for a memoir when they receive my query. My memoir may be too similar to someone else’s, or the agent doesn’t connect with my “voice.” I’ve received many responses sharing that the memoir is simply “not a good fit at this time.”

The market for memoirs is overcrowded but not dead. According to Publishers Weekly “more than 642,000 traditionally published books were released in the U.S. in 2025.” Queries for non-fiction narrative (memoirs) were among the categories literary agencies received the most of. Currently, there are only 405 agents actively looking for memoirs (in the U.S.), according to Glass Elevator. Each of those agents has limited slots for memoirs.

And then there’s social media. With fiction, agents can sell the characters, plot, and story, but with memoirs, they want to know about the author. They want to know why readers will want to read their story. This is where social media comes in. Agencies want memoir authors to have a significant, if not substantial, following so they know there is interest in the author as a person. One of the literary agents who recently queried me provided a response that left me feeling defeated. She said that it’s much easier to get a memoir published if you're a “known person.”

Given all of the above, I have gleaned two thoughts for a plan.

1. Continue to engage on social media platforms: I started engaging early on when I first started writing my book, as recommended by my editor. As it turns out, it was a sound and true recommendation. I posted on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook. I’ve recently joined Substack, a platform where writers and other creative beings make connections and share their work. I love it here.

2. I’ve been toying with continuing to write; something I love doing. My dream is to write a psychological thriller novel, since that is my favorite genre to read. To a literary agent, a second book shows market stability and long-term career potential, as agents prefer authors with a multi-book plan.

Persistence is one of my favorite words; it describes me. I’m not giving up. I will keep editing, refining, and querying. And when I’m feeling discouraged, I will remember why I wrote the book in the first place. I’m going to keep believing that somewhere out there is an agent who will see what I see in those pages. Someone will understand why this story needed to be told.

Thank you for following me in my journey to the publication of WALLFLOWER!

Linda Vee 🤟🏻

If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I write WALLFLOWER.

If you are a returning reader, thank you for your continued support! I deeply appreciate the time you are taking out of your busy day to accompany me.

Around the Campfire

There are ordinary moments in life that are so subtle they are easy to miss. For me, it’s because they are everything I once believed I would never have. Something as simple as a camping trip is so much bigger for me. Ordinary moments become extraordinary moments because of where they began.

This past week, I went camping with my grown children and the people they love; those who have become part of our family story. We sat around the campfire and lingered in conversations long after the sun disappeared. Here I was, watching the family we’ve built. Teasing each other, laughing, and feeling completely safe and free. Unencumbered by fear and chaos.

Some of the best memories are the ones that aren’t planned. One afternoon, while exploring, my wife and I came across a goose struggling near the water. Fishing line was wrapped tightly around both legs, making it impossible to walk or swim. We carefully caught it and removed the tangled web. We fed him bread to calm him. We then watched as it stood for a moment before walking towards the water. Freedom begins when someone cares enough to help.

Later that week, we all stumbled upon a little seafood restaurant none of us had been to before. By the end of the meal, we had already decided this was our new favorite seafood place that we’d return to each year during our annual camping trip.

As a child, I never dreamed of days like this; I didn’t know they could exist. I was too busy trying to survive. When you grow up in trauma, you lose the picture of what family is supposed to feel like. Shaped by fear, I learned to listen for raised voices instead of laughter, and to read people’s moods instead of enjoying their company.

Generational trauma can be passed down. Healing has taught me another way. But not by forgetting, or pretending the past never happened. Healing is thousands of silent choices made over years. It’s choosing to parent differently, and choosing connection instead of control. It’s choosing to believe that what happened to us doesn’t have to be inevitable. It changes the conversations children grow up hearing, and what they will remember when they think back on their childhoods.

Generational trauma is now living in my past. I know that every time my children, and now my grandchild, experience a kind of love that once seemed impossible to me. There is peace. I am witnessing our generation being rewritten. The past no longer gets the final word. Generational trauma can be passed down, but so can generational healing.

As my memoir awaits publication, I am reminded why I chose to tell my story. It is to offer hope that our stories can change direction. Writing my story has helped me to notice the present more vividly; evidence that healing has changed more than just my own life.

Linda Vee 🤟🏻

“HEALING IS A DAILY EVENT. YOU CAN’T GO SOMEWHERE’ TO BE HEALED; YOU MUST GO INWARD TO BE HEALED. THIS MEANS A DAILY COMMITMENT TO DOING THE WORK”-Dr. Nicole Lepera (AKA The Holistic Psychologist

(Credit: @storytelllingforthesoul)

If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I write WALLFLOWER.

If you are a returning reader, thank you for your continued support! I deeply appreciate the time you are taking out of your busy day to accompany me.

As I write to you today, my heart is full of gratitude and reflection. My last child has just graduated from high school, marking the end of a significant chapter in our family’s journey. This milestone feels especially profound to me, given the journey that brought us here—a journey I explored deeply in my memoir about generational trauma.

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Writing that memoir was not just a personal endeavor; it was a way to confront the echoes of the past, to understand how the wounds of previous generations shaped my life and, in turn, my children's lives. It was a path toward healing, growth, and breaking patterns that could have otherwise continued.

Watching my child step into adulthood makes me reflect on how far we have come as a family. It is a testament to resilience, love, and the power of conscious transformation. Each challenge documented in my book was a stepping stone toward this moment of pride and hope.

To anyone on a similar journey, know that healing is possible, and the next generation has the potential to thrive beyond the shadows of trauma. With compassion and commitment, we can rewrite our stories.

Thank you for supporting my work and for being part of this journey with me. Here’s to new beginnings and continued healing.

Linda Vee 🤟🏻

“Trauma is in most cases multigenerational; the chain of transmission goes from parent to child, stretching from the past into the future, passing on to offspring what we haven’t resolved in ourselves.” - Annie Wright, LMFT

If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I finalize WALLFLOWER (formerly SHOWING UP FOR ME: A MEMOIR).

If you are a returning reader, thank you for your continued support! I deeply appreciate the time you are taking out of your busy day to accompany me.

Tonight, I sit waiting for the arrival of my first grandchild. I got the call that she is actively in labor.

It feels like the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another all at the same time.

Many of you know that the book I’ve written comes from a painful place. It tells the story of a childhood marked by trauma, confusion, grief, and survival. For a long time, I believed pain was something inherited—passed quietly from one generation to the next like an unwanted family heirloom.

But becoming a mother changed me.

Not overnight. And not perfectly, because healing doesn’t have to work that way.

Instead, motherhood became the place where I began making different choices. The place where I learned that love can be intentional. That safety can be created and safe. That cycles can be broken even when you were never shown how.

I spent years trying to give my children the things I once needed myself: stability, reassurance, protection, honesty, warmth. Some days I succeeded beautifully. Other days I stumbled through motherhood carrying wounds I was still learning to name. But I kept trying. I kept showing up.

And now, my daughter is becoming a mother herself.

As I think about her in this moment—strong, exhausted, brave, bringing new life into the world—I can’t help but reflect on the generations before us. The pain that traveled through them. The silence that lived in so many homes. The hurt that shaped so many people who never had the tools to heal.

And then I think about this little boy.

This new beginning.

A child being born into a family that has fought hard to become softer, safer, more loving, and more honest than the generations before it.

These are all the elements that matter.

My memoir has always been about survival, but beneath that, it has been about hope. Hope that our stories do not have to end where they began. Hope that healing ripples outward. Hope that love, when chosen again and again, can rewrite an entire family legacy.

Tonight, that hope feels real enough to hold.

The next generation is arriving, and love is waiting for them.

As I wait to meet my grandson, I feel overwhelming gratitude—for my daughter, her husband, for this growing family, and for all of you who have walked beside me as I’ve shared pieces of this journey.

-Linda Vee

“By healing ourselves, we gift the next generation a lighter load to carry.” — Unknown

If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I finalize WALLFLOWER (formerly SHOWING UP FOR ME: A MEMOIR).

If you are a returning reader, thank you for your continued support! I deeply appreciate the time you are taking out of your busy day to accompany me.

April has always been a heavy month for me.

It’s the month that changed everything—the month I lost my sister in a way that still feels impossible to fully put into words. There’s a kind of silence that follows loss like that. A kind of before-and-after that no one prepares you for.

For a long time, I thought healing would look like moving forward in a straight line — that with enough time, effort, or strength, I would somehow “arrive” at a place where it didn’t hurt so much. But that’s not how it works. Not for me, and not for most people who carry something this deep.

Healing isn’t linear.

It loops, and it stalls. It surprises you. Some days feel light and manageable, and others—like certain days in April—feel just as raw as the beginning. And that doesn’t mean I’ve failed. It doesn’t mean I’m going backward.

It just means I’m human.

Where I am now is different than where I was. Not because the loss is smaller — it isn’t—but because I’ve learned how to carry it differently. I’ve made space for the grief instead of fighting it. I’ve learned that joy and sorrow can coexist without guilt. That I can laugh and still miss her in the same breath.

There are still hard moments. There are still days when the weight of it all feels overwhelming. But there are also moments of peace now. Moments of remembering her with love instead of only pain. Moments where I feel grounded, even in the middle of April.

If you’re in a season that feels heavy—whether it’s grief, loss, or something you’re still trying to name—I hope you know this:

You are not behind.

You are not doing it wrong.

And you are allowed to be exactly where you are.

Healing doesn’t follow a schedule or ask you to rush. It just asks you to keep going, in whatever way you can. And I know my sister would have wanted me to do just that.

This is where I am now.

Still grieving.

Still healing.

Still here.

And for today, that’s enough.

I’m so excited to share with you that last week I was asked to speak to a group of women who are victims of domestic abuse. The foundation is a transformational program that helps these women on their path to self-sufficiency. I am super excited about this opportunity because this is what my book, WALLFLOWER, is about. It is the story of my childhood trauma and how I’ve worked hard to create a more peaceful life for myself. I feel privileged to have been invited to share my experience, in the hope that my story will inspire these women. And I am truly thankful for where I am now, and I can’t wait to share my book with you.

🤘🏼

Linda Vee

If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I finalize WALLFLOWER (formerly SHOWING UP FOR ME: A MEMOIR)

If you are a returning reader, thank you for your continued support! I deeply appreciate the time you are taking out of your busy day to accompany me.

I went back there last week, to Clearwater, Florida—a place I once never wanted to see again. For so long, it held only the weight of losing my sister, every step tied to that moment, every memory sharp and unyielding.

But this time, I didn’t go alone. I went with my daughter—no longer a child, but a woman with her own steady presence, her own quiet understanding. We walked side by side, and she didn’t try to fill the silence or fix anything. She just stayed with me.

We talked about my sister, but we also talked about everything else. Life, small things, even laughter that felt foreign at first, like it didn’t quite belong there. And then, slowly, it did.

I will always think of Linda. But the memories didn’t crush me the way they used to. They came gently, like a hand on my shoulder instead of a weight on my chest. The way I could breathe without feeling like I was breaking. The way her memory didn’t feel like a wound in every moment, but sometimes like warmth. I felt comforted by the view from our hotel balcony of the places we visited together all those years ago.

I realized I wasn’t just surviving the memory anymore—I was living alongside it.

I never left her there. But I also didn’t leave myself there either.

And I think that’s how I know I’m healing.

WALLFLOWER is in that in-between space right now, where it’s finished but still finding its way into the world. If you believe in timing, in energy, in holding something gently until it arrives where it’s meant to be, I’d love for you to hold this dream with me for a little while.

In the meantime, I’ve been creating this space here on Substack to share more of my writing, reflections, and pieces of the journey as it unfolds. I’d love for you to join me there. And thank you, always, for being part of this journey with me. I can’t wait for the day I can finally share my story with you.

🤟🏽 Linda Vee

February feels different to me now.

There’s something about the light this time of year—it feels softer, slower, and almost reflective. While the world leans into Valentine’s Day with roses and chocolates, I find myself thinking about a deeper, steadier kind of love. The kind of love that doesn’t come with a bow.

When I think about February, I think about family.

Not the glossy, picture-perfect version, but what is my reality. The complicated, imperfect, enduring love that shapes us. The love that survives misunderstandings. The love that sometimes goes unspoken but continues to bind us together.

As an aspiring author, I’ve come to realize that family love is at the center of almost every story I want to tell. It’s in the silences. It’s in what was given freely and what was withheld. It’s in the resilience we build when love isn’t expressed the way we needed it to be.

Valentine’s Day reminds me that love isn’t always grand gestures. Sometimes it’s showing up. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s learning to give ourselves the love we may not have received.

And sometimes, it’s recognizing the extraordinary gift of the family we have now—the children who grew into remarkable adults, the anticipation of the birth of my unborn grandson, the friends who became chosen family.

February invites me to pause and ask:

How do we love better?
How do we heal through love?
How do we tell the truth about love in our stories?

And how do we learn to trust love?

These questions are not just reflections—they are the heartbeat of my memoir.

What began as an inward journey has become something more intentional: a story about resilience, about generational patterns, about the courage it takes to name what was and still choose love.

I don’t have a publication date to share just yet, but I can tell you this—the manuscript, WALLFLOWER, is closer than ever. With each edit, I breathe easier. Each revision feels more honest. And I hold such anticipation for the day I can finally place this story into your hands.

Thank you for walking with me in this in-between season—the becoming, the shaping, the hopeful waiting. Your presence here reminds me why telling the truth matters.

This month, I hope you find love in its truest form—steady, resilient, and real. And if it’s been hard-won, I hope you honor the strength it took to claim it.

With warmth,
Linda

P.S. Please note that after much reflection, the title of the manuscript has been changed from SHOWING UP FOR ME: A MEMOIR to WALLFLOWER.

If you are new to my newsletter, I am very excited to have you join me on my journey as I write SHOWING UP FOR ME: A MEMOIR.

November used to weigh heavily on me since my sister’s death in 2012. Not only is today her birthday, but it is also the month her remains were discovered.

But this year feels different. Finishing my manuscript brought a sense of peace I wasn’t expecting. I feel a new lightness, and I am breathing a little easier for the first time in years.

As I wrote SHOWING UP FOR ME, every word freed me from my pain. I believed that certain parts of me would remain broken forever. Slowly and insidiously, over the fifteen months of writing the memoir, parts of me healed with every page completed. I will always feel the pain of my sister’s loss, but bringing the story to a close brought me solace and allowed me to recover.

I believe that my sister was the “Wind Beneath My Wings” that carried me through the emotionally difficult moments while writing the manuscript.

As the holiday season unfolds, I find myself reflecting on what this time of year truly means. It is the perfect time to slow down and to appreciate one another. It is a gentle reminder to celebrate ourselves and the people who uplift us. I look forward to the warmth of my family during the holidays.

While the holidays bring joy to many, others may suffer from loneliness or be struggling for other reasons. I encourage everyone to open their hearts to those who could use an extra smile, a phone call, or another act of kindness. Even the smallest act of compassion can significantly impact someone else’s holiday.

“Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.” - Helen Keller

If this email looks a bit different, that’s because I’ve moved from Mailchimp to Substack. I hope this platform allows me to grow my readership more efficiently. If you have been following my authorship journey, thank you. If you are new here, I am very excited to have you join me as I write SHOWING UP FOR ME: A MEMOIR.

Last month, I shared exciting news that a literary agent had requested the full manuscript of my memoir. My editor and I worked hard, burning the candle on both ends, to meet the submission deadline. We have since heard back from the agent that the work is not the right fit for her list at this time. But we will remain resilient and keep pushing forward; the book will be right for a different agent at some point! In the meantime, we continue to work to edit the finished manuscript, which requires many hours of reviewing, critiquing, adding, and deleting content.

Although the end feels near, the real work is just beginning. At this point, we hope to engage the assistance of beta readers, who can provide us with an outside perspective on the manuscript. These are avid readers who are not connected to me in any way and can provide us with objective feedback.

If you are or someone you know is a memoir enthusiast and interested in beta-reading my manuscript, please consider filling out this form. I would love as much feedback as possible, to tell my sister’s and my story the best I can.

And in today’s world, there’s the social media part. This crucial aspect of capturing readers’ attention and encouraging their engagement with my book proved harder than I thought. I am a lover of social media; I am fascinated by the creativity that I come across daily on TikTok and Instagram. But it is a lot of work and time-consuming when my goal is to launch a book or promote myself as a writer. I continue to do my best to embrace the importance of social media in today’s world.

Speaking of books, I always have one that I am reading. I am currently reading YELLOWFACE, written by R.F. Kuang. I bought it for one of my daughters earlier this year, and it has now circled back to me to read. Interestingly, the book is about a rising author and her trials and tribulations of dealing with social media on her book topics. I gained new insights about the inner workings of literary agencies and the publishing industry while enjoying the dynamics of the main character in this novel.

Lastly, I understand that today’s world remains extremely stressful, regardless of which side of the aisle you stand. Let’s all remember to be kind to ourselves. Today’s act of kindness to myself was to have a pedicure with my daughter.

Equally as important, remember to be kind to others. We never know what others are going through in their lives.

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