Although from different eras, experiences, and trajectories, Erika J. Simpson’s mother, Sallie Carol, and my mother, Viola Iris, had some similarities: both were educators, were North Carolina natives, and loved their daughters fiercely. These Venn Diagram cross-sections struck a chord with me and immediately connected me to Simpson’s deeply personal story and debut memoir, This Is Your Mother, about the unconditional and imperfectly perfect love between a mother and daughter.
Simpson, who spent a lot of her childhood in Atlanta, also has a passion for pop culture, TV, and film. She is a multi-faceted creative, having a background in theatre and writing for TV. In addition to reads, she wants to see if she “can get anyone new to watch AMC’s Interview With A Vampire or talk Black Mirror and the cancellation of Mythic Quest.” Another similarity we share is after watching Sinners, it became my personal mission to ask even unsuspecting coworkers—or anyone within a 10-foot radius—whether they’ve seen it, and if not, why not, when, and how soon they’ll report back so we can discuss.
Speaking of movies, I asked Simpson who she’d want to play her and her mother in a film. For her, it’s Storm Reid in part because they are both Cancers and also because she has a “mean” crying face. However, when it comes to casting her mother, she didn’t have a specific actress in mind, which I completely understand—sometimes, our mothers are much larger than life than any actor we can imagine.
And what’s next for Simpson? She hopes to release short stories soon, maybe a novel, perhaps even a show based on her twenties; she cannot wait to see what her readers want from her. To quote Roxane Gay, Simpson “is a writer who’s absolutely going places,” so on behalf of her readers, I think I can say “quite a lot.”
My goodness, Erika, let me say that your book had me in a chokehold and then choked up. Especially the chapter where you wrote about your mother in hospice care, and never knowing when you’d receive that call. Like yours, my mother was in hospice care, but due to Parkinson’s disease dementia when she passed in January. I recently read your award-winning essay, “If You Ever Find Yourself”—how did you journey from personal essay to memoir?
First off, I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. January is so fresh, and I hope you’re allowing yourself plenty of space to grieve in however it presents itself. Know she is with you always. As for the journey from essay to memoir, I’d have to say the expansion of it called to me. My mother’s death leaked into all my fiction in some way and in general consumed my thoughts, even 8/9/10 years later. You have to write what’s driving you in the moment, and it felt time to tell my story. Which required widening the lens on my memories. Figuring out how to tell a full circle story from a life I’m still living, and my editor prodding me with leading questions until a buried memory emerged.
As a poet, I have navigated the delicate boundary and internal debate with the question: is it my story to tell? Do I have permission to tell this story? I always land on yes if my life is experienced, involved, or impacted. How did you navigate this question while writing this deeply personal book?
This concept may have been my first thoughts on the memoir too. So much of my story feels like my mother’s. As if I’m but a background character in the happenings of her life – her endless sicknesses and her strive for success with her business. I wasn’t sure where I began, and she ended. But like you said, I was involved and impacted. I’m a human being with a point of view. Do you know how at work someone says, “I only got four hours of sleep!” and someone else says “Girl, I only got two!” Well, we’re both tired, now, aren’t we? Just because one got less doesn’t mean they both aren’t suffering in the daytime. And what makes each story unique is the conditions in which they slept. I’m a Cancer so I’m a firm believer in the validation of one’s personal feelings.
In writing your book, combining your memories and your research, what did you discover surprising about yourself or your mother? Did you uncover any unexpected or hidden stories about your mother while working on the book?
You know, I did discover some things. One such revelation is in the book: Aunt Mattie revealed to me that she did have to withhold certain things from me as a child, which my mother had whispered to me, and I was never sure if I could believe it. Auntie told me she withheld to protect me. And that felt worth including, that even as a child hungry for more, sometimes an adult has to control what’s being fed to you. For your own safety. However, there was some other grown folks business’ my Aunt revealed that spun me for a loop. Threatened to change my perspective, but ultimately, I did not use that information, because it wasn’t relevant to my story and experiences, and my mother’s love doesn’t change for me just because she needs money. So, I had to honor my own understanding and not the interpretations of a little sister, from 20 years ago. It doesn’t change what I experienced, which is what the book is about.
Your book carries a sense of melancholy similar to Natasha Trethewey’s memoir, Memorial Drive. Though very different stories, both center around mothers and are set against the backdrop of Atlanta, with the iconic Memorial Drive itself appearing as a connection. How did the setting of Atlanta, and perhaps the emotional weight of its geography, shape how you told your story? On a side note, my other connection to your story is that my mom is also from North Carolina, near Greenville.
Oh, we just might be some kin, girl! I love the synchronicities. And I’ll have to get that memoir immediately! As I answer this question, I’m terrified of visiting Atlanta for my book tour but know that I need to. Atlanta is very much my mother’s home, her chosen city, where she fought to survive. It aches to visit there and not have a warm familiar home to visit and be reminded of my mother’s final days. However, my mother is also so alive there. It was so helpful pulling up google maps and seeing the old stores we used to go to and the length of Memorial Drive, all the motels and hotels on its strip, seeing what’s in walking distance and what’s two buses away. The most touching part was that I looked up the-house-we-stayed-at-when-things-were-good on Google Maps. The last picture captured had my mother’s car in the driveway. Oh, I cried. Digital ghost.
Wow—that leaves me breathless! I believe nothing is coincidental and gifts like that photo of your mom’s car are intentional messages. Just wow. Speaking of messaging, I know you are a multi-disciplinary writer in TV/film, as well as in essays and novels. Talk about your choice to interweave script, dialogue, and the personal narrative like the Book of Sallie Carol’s scriptures?
It’s all about escape. An emotional separation from the moment. A theater kid at heart, my whole life has felt like some sort of movie I’m trapped within, and so I wanted to tell my story in that way. How we picture scenes playing out, and how we want to rewrite them later when we’re lying in bed. My mother was so religious, and also a preacher, and could talk your ear off at any moment of any day. Some stories and lessons repeated so often that I could probably finish all her sentences while she told them, so I thought it would be cool to turn her into a religious figure of sorts and make my memoir the Bible of her.
Here’s a link where you can read more about and order Simpson’s debut memoir: This Is Your Mother. She will discuss her book on Thursday, May 8, at 7 p.m. at the Atlanta History Center. To connect with Simpson, you can follow her on Instagram @erikajsimpson.