How honest is too honest? Q&A with Jowita Bydlowska, author of bestselling memoir Drunk Mom

“I had a meeting with the publisher, my agent and my brilliant editor, all who asked me, repeatedly, if I was ready to have that kind of book out in the world. At that time, I remember thinking that the truth and my absolute compulsion to write this book mattered more to me than being liked.”

— Author Jowita Bydlowska

Source: CBC, Russell Smith

It’s been almost 10 years since Drunk Mom, a memoir by brilliant writer Jowita Bydlowska was published. Now, a decade later, it remains one of the most candid contemporary memoirs I have ever read.

I could not, under any circumstances, put it down; my jaw was literally hanging open the entire time reading, which led me to question, “Can a memoir be too honest?”

“She knows she's become a villain; a mother who drinks; a mother who endangers her child…. It places you in the moment — saddened, appalled, nerve-wracked, but never able to look away or stop turning the pages,” as per the bang-on description of Drunk Mom.

I highly recommend Drunk Mom to anyone who loves a good memoir, or any aspiring writer to see just how far a memoirist will go. (She also writes fiction! Pre-order her latest novel Possession, described as intimate and erotic, here.)

There is no doubt Jowita Bydlowska is an excellent writer. So, what do you say about a writer whose prose is so beautiful yet so troubling that you can’t help but think, “How could you share this with the world?”

Below are some examples of the reviews of Drunk Mom:

“It’s a bestseller in her adopted homeland Canada… brilliantly written but painful to read.” —The Times (UK)

“It is a memoir that pushes at boundaries — what is private, what should perhaps be kept private, what we need to know, what we don’t, what is insightful or just exhibitionism. One of the most talked-about books of the season…” —The Globe and Mail.

“Drunk Mom is a discomforting read. Its bare-naked honesty about addiction and families will make a lot of people uncomfortable. . . . It’s by far one of the best memoirs that I’ve ever read, both for its candour and bravery and for her narration.”—The Frisky

Since it has been almost a decade, and since I do still think about that memoir — it really is THAT unforgettable — I thought it would be interesting to see how Jowita Bydlowska feels about writing Drunk Mom 10 years later and sharing that part of her life so publicly.

RE:BOOKS: It’s been almost 10 years since your memoir Drunk Mom came out. I think it’s one of the most personal and well-written memoirs I’ve ever read! Why did you decide to write the memoir with such brutal honesty?

Jowita Bydlowska: I wrote it to explain addiction. I used to say I wrote it to help others, but my motivation was never to write a self-help manual. I even write that in the book. I am not that nice. It's actually not that I'm not that nice, it's that I am not an expert on addiction. I just wanted to share my personal experience with addiction, especially in the context of motherhood. 

I started writing Drunk Mom as fiction because it was easier to think of all of what was happening to me as if it was happening to a fictional character. I guess it was a form of denial. In any case, I was always writing.

I like how you say, “I always write like no one is reading.” I love that! Thank you for sharing it with me. I do even worse, like-no-one-is-watching things…

For example, I have a very dirty Instagram account. And I don't care! At age 44? I really couldn't give fewer smiley faces about what people think about what I do as an artist, especially as a female artist. 

I think “shame” is really, really overrated.

RE:BOOKS: What was your process writing this memoir — did you write it AFTER you were sober? And if so, how did you remember what you wrote in your memoir if your memory would have been spotty? How did you reconcile that? Did you ask others what happened? Or did you just go by YOUR TRUTH or as you say “shame” when writing about your life, including relatives or other loved ones?

Jowita Bydlowska: I kept some diary entries, and since I was writing it thinking of it as fiction, I did have a lot of material. I even took notes in rehab "for research." I didn't ask others what happened because I didn't want to be influenced by their impressions or experiences (but have you read The Night of the Gun by David Carr? It's a fascinating story. That must've taken some guts!)

In terms of writing about other people, were I to write another memoir now... I just wouldn't. I know because I tried to write another memoir about something that I know could hurt someone a lot; it would hurt my family, and it would possibly seem petty and even unnecessary, even if I wrote beautifully about it. 

With Drunk Mom, I truly had this desire to be able to have conversations with anyone and everyone who's ever asked me to explain addiction: with my partner at the time, the father of my child,  my sister,  even strangers. With my son, of course, as well. I wanted to write about this dark secret that was quite literally killing me because I didn't know how else to deal with it. 

So I used the only weapon I had, which was writing. I think of myself primarily as a writer— I wrote long before I could speak fluently, and English is not my first language (I came here as a teenager and knew maybe 10 words, and half of them were swear words). 

RE:BOOKS: As I mentioned, I’m writing a piece about memoirists hurting relatives' feelings. Did you lose friends/relatives after your memoir was published? Did anyone actually tell you they were mad?

Jowita Bydlowska: The only thing people were mad about was that I kept it a secret from them just how desperate and unwell I was. 

My parents have never read the book. I promised them I would not publish it in Poland (they don't read English). 

I turned down a book deal from a major Polish publisher for that reason. We're all older now and a lot of attitudes have changed — within my own family too — so I would actually love to get the book published in Poland. I wonder if I'm blacklisted. Probably. It was a really good deal.  But yeah, overall, people were extremely kind and I felt supported. 

Having said that, I'm not in any way tough, and sometimes I cry just like everyone else, silently in my tiara while wearing the same Chloe See dress I wore to my Drunk Mom book launch in 2013. 

Actually, I do care what people think and I'm super sensitive and always have been, so I deal with shame by tackling it head-on. I think if your compulsion to write is anything like mine, you know how there's such an exhibitionistic element to it all; it feels like a rebellion.

I do prefer writing fiction and that was always my dream, to become a fiction writer — there's a lot more freedom in that; there's even joy sometimes. Although being Eastern European and speaking of joy seems somewhat wrong to me. (But there's so much joy, I fucking love it!)

RE:BOOKS: When you wrote it, did you run it by certain friends or relatives first? Or did you write YOUR TRUTH, meaning you just went for it — not thinking about other people’s reactions? Because it IS YOUR truth, and you never know who is going to be offended. Even in your fiction, I bet people think it’s about them and may not like it. Has anyone said, “Stop writing about me!”

Jowita Bydlowska: My partner at the time is also a writer — he became the father of our child — so I was very fortunate to learn a lot about the politics of writing from him. What I mean is that both of us respected each other's process as artists and tried not to interfere with each other (unless explicitly asked to). 

I asked him if we could have a pact to never say anything negative about what either of us writes, unless it's a critique of the actual craft of writing. And he was happy to accommodate.

Before Drunk Mom came out, he wrote a Toronto Life piece in which he "outed" me as a person with substance use disorder. So I was actually the first, out of the two of us, to be put to that test of feeling indignant or hurt by the other person's revelatory writing. 

Personally, I wasn't hurt. It was his truth, and we were all balls to the wall that time; it felt very liberating. With Drunk Mom, I told him — because he is the father of our child  — that I will show it to him once it goes through first proofs with my editor. That was the first time he read it.

He didn't talk to me for a few hours. Maybe we had one of those angry sleeping-in-separate-beds nights? I can't remember. What I do remember is that when I came home from a media event, he took me in his arms and told me he would always support me, and it was me and him against the world. I know that's so cheesy but that's how it was and I want to acknowledge that. 

BUT before I was even given a contract, I had a meeting with the publisher and my agent and my brilliant editor, who all asked me repeatedly if I was ready to have that kind of book out in the world. 

At that time, I remember thinking that the truth and my absolute compulsion to write this book mattered more to me than being liked. I have an addictive personality, not sure if you know that!

RE:BOOKS: I love this question: If you write a memoir, and your friends and family know about it; is it up to THEM to ask the memoirist not to be mentioned or written about? Do you still worry that Drunk Mom was upsetting to some?

Jowita Bydlowska: I think that being upset and stewing in resentment for so long is just really unhealthy and, I don't know, forgive the cliche, but life is short and what is the point of holding anger for so long? Also, as someone famously said, "Don't want to be written about, don't have dinner with a writer." (This is sometimes attributed to Margaret Atwood, as are most intelligent quippy things about writing). 

For sure, I get inspired by real people and real events to write my fiction, but not that much; I'm in this world, just like everyone else, and it does affect me, so it would be stupid to pretend like it's all happening in some kind of vacuum. I just know I'm not going to compromise my creative process to cater to grownups with big feelings (unless really justified). 

The one exception I make here is with my son. Now that my son is almost 13, I always ask him if it's okay to write something about him if I do happen to write any personal stuff. Recently I wrote a story for Reader's Digest about something that happened to us, and I thought I should check in with him before pitching it. So I did, and I let him read the first draft.

He's a very sensitive, bright, kind person, and he understands what I do for a living. But I also made a promise to him I wouldn't "harvest" our relationship for personal essays unless I have a full blessing from him.  At 13, he's, you know, big on things being “cringe-worthy" and all that. And I think it's enough for him that there's a book called Drunk Mom, which describes some of the events of his life. So now he's got total veto power for the next few years. 

I think we were in a unique situation with Drunk Mom, my memoir. I really appreciate that I had had all that support when the book came out, and I often talk to him about it now (he hasn't read it yet and he says he most likely won't read anything his cringe, pervy parents write since both myself and his father do sometimes write pretty adult stuff. And he's aware of it — so it's all fair.) 

RE:BOOKS: Would you have done anything differently, looking back almost a decade later? And, IF people were mad at you for alluding to them in your memoir, do you feel regret, or do you still feel like the truth is more important in a memoir?

Jowita Bydlowska: I wouldn't have done it any other way. 

RE:BOOKS: So, if you were ever offered a book deal NOW to write a memoir for $100,000 knowing it may hurt a relative’s feelings, even if you think (or I think) “Why would THAT offend you?” would you take the book deal? 

Jowita Bydlowska: That is a lot of money, and I would like to be able to afford to live in Toronto as a solo mom who's an artist, but I don't know. I probably wouldn't if I were told explicitly by someone that they would genuinely suffer by that kind of exposure. 

I was thinking about writing about something once and decided that the hurt it might cause wouldn't make any of it worthwhile. So, I've done those kinds of mental gymnastics.

Wait! Having to constantly feed the male human boy who lives with me and doesn't seem to stop wanting snacks? Why do they eat so much? Maybe I would take that 100k after all, because he's going to eat through my savings at this rate. I'm kidding! 

RE:BOOKS: Finally, any advice for aspiring memoirists?

Jowita Bydlowska: I guess the only question a writer should ask herself is, "What is this for?" If it's a cathartic process, to be able to deal with trauma, to be able to illuminate something that would help others, or even "just" to be able to contribute to the world as an artist? Then, yes, write like no one is reading. (Love that!) 

But if it's to — I don't know — get back at someone, hurt someone, punish someone... Well, books are forever, and it could be not just harmful but also self-harming to have to live with that kind of guilt and knowledge. 

I'm really proud of having written Drunk Mom and I love getting readers' messages. I still get them, almost 10 years later, telling me that it helped them, that it got them sober, that it allowed them to understand their addicted parent…

It's a really beautiful thing, and it never ceases to astonish me. This is worth more than any royalty cheque and praise and it's worth all that scolding — and I heard more than once that I should've just tied my tubes and that my son should've been taken away from me and all kinds of other crazy stuff when Drunk Mom was published!

But I've always tried to focus on positives. And the positives definitely outweigh the negatives here. So yeah, maybe that's the advice: Is your memoir going to cause more harm or good? Go with the good.

For more information on Jowita Bydlowska and her writing, click here!