Introducing The Breadcrumbs Project
Our stories matter, and I want to hear yours, too.
When I had the idea nine years ago to visit every home I’d ever lived in and write about it, I felt a little embarrassed at first. After all, it seemed a little grandiose. (To quote my last piece, navel-gazing.) I wondered if there was something wrong with me for my preoccupation with nostalgia; I mean, I took an utterly insane 25-hour road trip to say goodbye to my childhood home with a swearing toddler and terrified 2nd grader—do normal people do this? And after all, don’t all the songs tell us that we “can’t go home again. . . “?
But so many of us do feel compelled to “go home again,” to revisit the places that shaped us, or to quote Miranda Lambert even though I am firmly in the non-country music camp, to honor “the houses that built me.” We are drawn to our memories and to understanding the role they play in our adult lives.
One of our most popular writing exercises in our HerStories Project writing community workshops is the “I Am From” poem, which ironically, my daughter did in her 5th grade class, too. It’s such a thoughtful vehicle for writers to reflect on where they come from, what they stand for, and what seemingly inconsequential details, settings, rituals, and traditions made them who they are. I’m going to take like five minutes and knock one out quickly so you can see what I mean. (I’m neurotic; it took me at least ten minutes because I couldn’t just let it be, dammit! Fine, okay, fifteen minutes.)
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I am from
Magical midwest backyards under crescent moonlight, soft grass, bare feet.
Cloaked in an inky blanket of delicious humidity
While cicadas drone and lightning bugs sparkle.
May baskets left on front doors as we sprint away, shrieking.
Styrofoam cups adorned with pipe cleaners and spilling over with popcorn and M&Ms.
I am from
Classrooms full of noisy children and confusing instructions
That I ignore while writing stories inside my head.
The soothing comfort of spelling bee victories,
Preferring the solitary predictability of timed multiplication tests to group projects,
The chaotic terror of gym class, confusion during art, the peace found in music class.
I am from
Poetry journals and big ideas and poorly written plays performed by cousins.
Voting on what game to play next and never-ending directives to “Pretend you said. . .”
Notes passed in class and clubs formed in basements,
“Do you like me best? Let’s choose each other,”
And favorite songs recorded right off the radio.
I am from
Legs that were too skinny and
Arms that were too weak,
Hair that was too frizzy
And a heart that was too scared.
A voice that longed to scream and sing and be heard.
You want to write your own now, don’t you? You totally should—it’s really satisfying. I think this is such a fantastic tool to get us thinking about where we came from, to remember who we were as children and identify what experiences are stamped in our nervous systems, which memories we associate with pleasure and fear and comfort. The choices we make when distilling our childhoods into a few disparate stanzas can be illuminating and revelatory.
But to take it a step further, I’ve decided to start a monthly feature in my Substack column where I celebrate this pull to “go home” by showcasing guest writers sharing their original pieces about where they came from. Part of the title of my memoir involves Breadcrumbs, and I’m going to call this The Breadcrumbs Project, as together we’ll follow our own breadcrumb trails into our pasts to remember where we came from.
So I’m welcoming submissions for personal essays about what “going home” means to you: share your stories about your childhood home, how it felt to move away, that time your childhood best friends had a sleepover that changed your life, how you used to hide in your bedroom closet that you transformed into a fort, what happened when your grandmother moved in with you, what it was like to grow up different in a neighborhood full of “copy/paste” families.
I’m going to share one guest essay a month, and one bonus column with an interview with the author where we explore the impact our pasts, our homes, and our childhoods have on our lives as adults, parents, partners, and friends. I think it’s going to be magical.
Here’s what you need to know for now: At the moment, this is not a paid writing opportunity, which I regret, but perhaps after I get my feet under me and a little more momentum with my column (biggest thanks ever to my paid subscribers; every tiny amount means so much to me), I’ll be able to compensate writers if this turns into a long term regular feature (how much fun would that be, you guys?). Rest assured, I will promote the hell out of you on every platform and share your story far and wide.
You can email me at steph.iz @ hotmail.com with “Submission: The Breadcrumbs Project” in the subject line. Please limit submissions to under 1500 words, and also acknowledge that, if your essay is chosen, you are willing to participate in a 30-minute Zoom interview with me where we discuss your work, talk about nostalgia, childhood, our homes, and whatever other weird and random shit we feel like, to be included as a transcription in a bonus column.
So get writing, and let’s follow our trails of breadcrumbs and remember, together. I can’t wait to read your stories, and to share them.
XOXO,
Steph
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More Fun Things!
We are approaching the Mother Plus Mini Retreat in Denver on Saturday, September 23rd! Take 4.5 yummy hours from 11:30-4 to ground yourself, meditate, enjoy sound healing and facial treatments, nourish yourself with delicious food and drink, and spend HOURS in solitude/community to create, connect, reflect, daydream, or build. This day is YOURS. Space is limited, so claim your spot ASAP! Details here.
