Study into the impact of Vietnam War on the next generation

Photo of my Dad at the site of the Battle of Coral

A few years ago, I was one of 27,000 Australian people who participated in an intergenerational Vietnam Veterans Family study. The results of that report have just been released. In many ways my memoir is a personal story that makes meaning of these statistics.

Extracts from the study
The report contains hundreds of pages of documentation. In italics below I have included some of the key findings that most strongly relate to the themes of my book.

The answer to the question of whether the service of Australian men in the Vietnam War had adverse effects on the physical, mental and social health of their sons and daughters is ‘Yes’. It is enormously important to have that answer, but that was not the only thing the Vietnam Veterans Family Study brought to light. Collectively, the study projects show that the experience of war is not confined to the time between the passing-out parade and returning home and that families as well as those deployed are intimately involved in the experience.

The first important thing to note from the findings for the sons and daughters is the pattern of the differences found. Significant differences were found for most of the measures of mental health (ever diagnosed with or treated for depression, anxiety or posttraumatic stress disorder, suicidal thoughts, and suicidal plans or actions).

In the case of physical health among the sons and daughters, only three measures out of 16 showed significant differences between the two groups. Notably, those three measures were all conditions for which psychological factors are strongly implicated—skin conditions, migraines and sleep disturbance.

In the case of depression, anxiety, and suicidal plans and actions, the sons and daughters of Vietnam veterans were almost twice as likely as the sons and daughters of Vietnam-era personnel to report being diagnosed with or treated for depression, being diagnosed with or treated for anxiety, or making plans for or attempting suicide. Reports of being diagnosed with or treated for posttraumatic stress disorder were three times more common for the sons and daughters of Vietnam veterans.

In relation to the measures of family environment when the children were growing up, three of the eight factors differed significantly between the Vietnam veteran families and the families of Vietnam-era personnel (as reported by the sons and daughters)
1. a father’s caring attitude towards his child
2. a father’s overprotective or controlling behaviour
3. an indicator of harsh parenting during childhood.

23 per cent of offspring of Vietnam veteran families reported at least one of five items on harsh parenting; this compares with 9.1 per cent of offspring of Vietnam-era personnel. It is noteworthy that the three items that contributed most to this difference were:
- verbal abuse
- too much physical punishment
- and a question covering humiliation, ridicule, bullying or mental cruelty

Strictness and regimentation were recurrent themes in the accounts of growing up in a Vietnam veteran family: ‘His whole life he was a disciplinarian and I think sometimes he went too far’ and ‘He treated us like we were in the Army’.

The extent to which some fathers ‘went too far’ was alluded to or more overtly described in other comments.

For some of the sons and daughters these events influenced their view of themselves. They grew up thinking their father’s volatility was their fault and they were ‘bad kids’.

The sons and daughters themselves were aware that their father’s wartime experiences had contributed to problems in their family and, even if they had been born after their father’s return from Vietnam, knew the war had made a difference: "My Mum said that my Dad came back a completely different person. Before he went he never smoked or drank and when he came back he did both. He had bad dreams but we were shielded from all of that."

For many Vietnam veterans and their families the war did not end in 1973. Nor did it end with the 1987 Welcome Home parade or the 1992 opening of the Vietnam Forces National Memorial in Canberra. It is hoped that publication of this report will prompt new initiatives. The research thus far has produced findings that can help direct assistance for Defence Force families in the future, in order to diminish the intergenerational transmission of problems seen among the sons and daughters of Vietnam veterans. That alone would be fitting recognition of the efforts of those who lobbied for and participated in the Vietnam Veterans Family Study.


Knowing so many other people whose fathers served in Vietnam had childhoods like mine makes me feel very sad. But this last idea, that we can learn new strategies for helping defence force personnel so their war doesn't get passed onto their families, is something very dear to my heart.

Has anyone else had a personal experience of living with a parent who has been to war? I wonder whether these statistics ring true for you too.

To all the Children of Vietnam Veterans out there, I hope you are being kind to yourselves.

Writer's Tsunami

I know it has been a long time between posts, but I have had a good excuse for going AWOL.

For a start, I have sent my first draft to a publisher, and I now have an agent. I know! It looks like my book might actually be published. How scarytastic is that?

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

I have also taken on board advice about how to improve my first draft which has required me to:
- get in contact with Vietnam Veterans
- interview Veterans
- do more extensive research on the Vietnam War
- do more extensive research on PTSD
- read books on structure to make the flow of material work better

Oh, and one of the new threads I am writing has forced me to reassess the entire nature of the relationship I have with my deceased father? Yeah, no biggie.

I keep thinking I should write a blog post, but then I get an email from a Veteran, or a brain wave about my story goal, or a new piece of Vietnam history drops into my lap, or I freak out about how the hell I am going to pull this whole thing together and read non-fiction books for hours to see how other people do it.

At least I don't have writer's block. What is the opposite of that? Writer's tsunami? That's what it feels like: a huge wave of information and ideas bearing down on me that I am running full pelt to keep up with. I keep siphoning off what I can, scribbling notes, recording thoughts into a dictaphone, making phone calls, writing, reading, editing. But I still feel like I am barely keeping up.

I am looking forward to the day when the wave finally levels out so I can start editing. Then I can send out the second draft to some of my cleverest friends for feedback. And edit again. Did I mention all of this has to happen before the end of the year because my agent has let publishers know she will be "sending my manuscript wide" then?

I wish I could borrow Hermione Granger's time turner to buy me some extra time. I will keep you posted on how I go. Or, given my track record of sporadic blogging, maybe not.

Have you ever had a writer's tsunami?

Waiting for feedback on my first draft

At this very moment the eyes of strangers are roving over the 80,000 words I have sweated out over the last nine months (or seven years if you scroll back to when I started writing this book when I was pregnant with my first child).

Yes, my first draft is out there in the world. More than that, the people reading my words aren’t just friends. They are people who produce books for a living. Real live publishers.

I am trying to think of words to describe how I feel. Is there an emotion that is a cross between butterflies of excitement, heart-pounding terror, clammy-handed dread and the certainty that you have left the front door wide open and your laptop in plain sight? It’s kind of like that.

I used to be an actor, and I felt something similar when I was waiting to hear back from an audition. The major difference is an audition only takes a few days to prepare, and if they aren’t interested in my book I can’t tell myself it’s because they wanted a blonde, or someone with bigger boobs. This time it is comes down to entirely to me. My story. My writing.

I’m not usually prone to insomnia, but this emotional turmoil is robbing me of sleep. The second my head hits the pillow or I stir as one of my children coughs in the night, my heart pounds me wide awake. Thump. Thump. Thump. People are looking at my book. My brain floods with the words I have written and I re-work them over an over again, seeing all the things I haven’t done and the things I could have done better.

I tell myself to relax, that there is nothing I can do about it now, but I am so charged with excited dread that it feels like I have just chugged ten espressos. Editors are good at seeing the story in spite of the flaws. Right?

The one thought I am using to get myself through the days until I hear their feedback is that no one can take those 80,000 words away from me. They are mine. No matter what happens I won’t be starting back at zero. Thank the lord.

Writing this first draft has been intellectually, emotionally and creatively fulfilling in ways I could never have imagined. To get to work with an editor to take my work to the next level would be a dream come true. I will get back to you to let you know what happens from here. Wish me luck!

Don’t give up on your first draft

Recently I hit a wall with my writing. I had been sprinting along, getting the words down, seeing the end of my first draft in sight. Then I noticed my sprint had slowed to a jog. Before I knew what was happening I was kicking stones at the side of the road whining like a 3-year-old saying, “My legs are tired.”

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

Apparently I am not the first person to have this experience. There are thousands of incomplete first drafts in drawers all over the world. It seems I am not the only one who finds starting of a project easier than finishing it.

Part of my problem is I thought that when I reached 85,000 words I would be pretty close to completing my first draft. But 84,000 words in, I realise I have probably got a good 15,000 to go. This has involved a reassessment of time frames and required me to pluck a whole bundle of new energy out of thin air.

Another issue is my love of editing. I am so looking forward to this part of the process that I wasn’t even 20,000 words in before I started saying, “I wish I was finished so I could be editing now.” As I have mentioned previously, patience is not my strong point.

But more than these factors I came to realise that the voices in my head that once told me, “Yeah, this is great, keep going,” had started saying, “Seriously? Why would anyone want to read that?”

On reflection I realised the loudest voice had sprung to life after someone from my writer’s group had critiqued my work. She had questioned the believability of the character in my book.

Given the book I am writing is a memoir, and the character is me, it had started a chain reaction of self doubt about my writing, my ability to share a story in a meaningful way and whether or not I had the right to exist on the page (or at all, but that is another blog : ).

I found myself wanting to justify my “character’s” choices to her, to give overly elaborate explanations as to why I acted the way I did. It was driving me absolutely nuts and made me feel like giving up on my book.

So I took a break for a week. Spent a load of time on twitter. Read some novels. Then I told that voice that this first draft is not for publication so it really doesn’t matter what goes on the page. I don’t have to show anyone if I don’t want to.

This process has been very freeing and has helped me realise that some people are going to connect to my book and my character, some people are not. That’s the way it is with all creative offerings.

This whole process has been really helpful in strengthening my resolve to write the book I want to write, not the book I think someone else wants to hear. There are more than 7 billion people in the world, surely some of them will relate! 

Have you had an experience like this? How did you keep going with your first draft?

Too much analysis is killing my reading buzz

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

I love reading. Fiction, non-fiction and of course, memoir. But it wasn’t until I started writing a book that I have found myself analysing books as I read them.

Do you remember what you were like when you first started uni? I was the strident know-it-all in the corner of the party boring everyone to tears reiterating something I barely understood.

After growing old enough to realise I knew next to nothing about next to nothing, I had thought those days were behind me. But alas, the uni student is back. Luckily for most of my friends the conversations I am having are mostly going on in my head as I read. They go something like this…

Uni me: Wow! That was the point of no return. Do you see how there is no way the character can keep living his old life now? I could think of about five different way this could go now.

Reading me: Shut up, I am reading.

Uni me: Look at the way they split that story to create suspense. I think I need to split some of my stories like that.

Reading me: Shut up, I am reading. But now I am also thinking about my own book, which I don’t want to do right now because I am reading.

Uni me: That was the moment of transformation at the end of the second act. See how the character has had to change into someone they never thought they would be…

Reading me: Great. You have completely distracted me from the storyline and I am now anxious that my book doesn’t have any moments of transformation. Could you give it a rest? Seriously. I just want to get lost in the story. Is that too much to ask?

Books have always been an escape for me. I know lots of people have always filtered their reading through layers of intellectual construct. They demand beautifully formed prose and impressive feats of literary mastery or they are just not interested. Blockbusters and page-turners are beneath them.

Not me. I think of reading like eating. Sometimes I want a fancy dinner of delicate quail eggs with truffle and proscuitto. But sometimes I feel like a bit of spag bog, or a whole block of chocolate for dinner. (What can I say? I’m a pig.)

Though I can glory in the perfect poetry of the written word, I love story more. I always forgive less than perfect writing if the story captivates me.

I don’t want the analysis part of my brain switched on when I read, at least not the first time through. It is extremely annoying and it is killing my reading buzz.

Do you have to keep that voice in check when you read? Am I the only one who has eaten chocolate for dinner?

I am not Stephen King

 Patience is not one of my strong points. That’s why I loved Stephen King’s advice from his memoir, On Writing. Basically he says when writing a book you should churn out two thousand words a day and keep going until the book is finished.

Charged with enthusiasm over how much I could achieve at that pace I publicly announced my intention on facebook that I wanted to enter my book into a memoir competition on September 22^nd. Nothing like a bit of social pressure to help motivate you toward achieving a goal.

Seriously, how hard could it be? Very hard it turns out. Much harder than I expected.

Some days the words pour out of me and I am filled with a passionate drive, knowing that this book will be finished and I will be published. Other days, when I fall well short of my self imposed targets, I wonder what level of delusion has possessed me to attempt this task.

I wish I was one of those people who could get up at four in the morning to dash off a couple of thousand words before heading to the gym and then home in time to bake nutritious goodies for lunchboxes. But honestly, just reading about those sort of lives makes me so tired I want to go straight to bed with a cup of tea and a good book.

I am still wobbling around trying to find a way to fit in writing my book, engaging with twitter, reading books on writing, reading books not on writing, occassionally writing my blog and always looking after the kids.

What I have come to realise during my stumbling attempt at first book writing is that I am not Stephen King. I know. A shock, right? Still, I am determined to do justice to the story I am telling. For me that involves writing a first draft (as quickly as I can manage), resting the book for a while, then editing, then sending it out for feedback, incorporating feedback, resting again, then reading and editing until I am satisfied that the book is as good as I can get it.

None of these processes can be worked around. All of them take time. So I am just going to breathe and keep on going. Oh, and I will try to write blogs more regularly. After the school holidays. Deep breath. I think this book might be teaching me about patience.

Structure is the backbone of all good stories

 

I read an interesting article the other day titled “The Two Pillars of Novel Structure”.

The author, James Scott Bell, likened the use of structure in a story to a suspension bridge, guiding people safely across a ravine below. The article covered the basics of beginning, middle and end with some nice examples from well known books and films.

He also had some checklists that I also thought you might find helpful. I do love a good checklist.

A good beginning (pillar one)…

1. Have you given us a character worth following?

2. Have you created a disturbance for that character in the opening pages?

3. Have you established the death stakes of the story?

4. Have you created a scene that will force the character into the confrontation of Act  two?

5. Is that scene strong enough—to the point that the lead character cannot resist going into the battle?

6. Does the first Doorway of No Return occur before the 1/5 mark of your story?

A good ending (pillar two) …

1. Have you created a major final crisis or setback the lead must overcome?

2. Alternatively (or additionally), have you presented a clue or discovery that is key to the story’s resolution?

3. Does this final Doorway of No Return make the resolution possible or inevitable (or both)?

I know it is a bit different when writing memoir; you can’t change the facts to make the story more exciting. But you can be selective about what you include. You can choose to include only the parts of your life that serve the book and leave the rest behind.

If a story lacks structure people end up confused. If your readers are anything like me, they will have a backlog of books to turn to if yours gets too hard. Make it easy for them. Hold their hand across the ravine.

What does everyone else think? Do you think structure is essential to a good story?

In defence of memoirs

I read an interesting article recently about whether people think memoirs are self indulgent. To be honest, I happened upon the post because I typed in the words, “are memoirs self indulgent?”

It is something the voices in my head are constantly whispering to me as I slog away at the first draft of my own memoir. Self indulgent. Self serving. Who do you think you are?

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

The general consensus on the site seemed to be that the people who didn’t like memoirs had problems believing that others could remember with perfect clarity conversations they had 30 years ago.

Fair point.

I liked Katie L’s response to the topic… “First, as opposed to autobiography, which is told chronologically and must be strictly accurate in terms of dates and events, memoir is a literary retelling of real life events. It is more concerned with “emotional” truth than historical accuracy. This doesn’t mean that a memoirist can just make stuff up, but it’s okay for scenes and conversations to be dramatized for literary effect, so long as the emotional content remains true and it’s basically consistent with actual events. Like fiction, memoir is concerned with literary themes and is crafted with a strong narrative arc (at least good memoir is).”

I have loved memoir ever since I read Helen Keller’s autobiography in primary school and have read hundreds of memoirs since that time.

I feel this genre offers readers a rare chance to deeply explore the way another person has lived in and thought about the world. Opportunities to have these conversations face-to-face don’t happen often enough for my liking.

The real-life forces that shape a person have always been a personal obsession of mine. I have studied counseling, kinesiology and soul-centred psychotherapy (among many other things) because I am desperate to understand why people behave the way they do.

Whether or not someone is able to perfectly recall the exact words another spoke does not diminish a memoir for me as long as I can feel the emotional honesty in the telling. For me, memoir is all about personal truth. It is the way someone remembers people and conversations, inherently influenced by their own agendas, prejudices and emotional state at the time.

I've always been a big fan of Socrates' assertion that "The unexamined life is not worth living." I love that people have examined aspects of their life intensely enough that they have been able to come up with 80,000 words on the topic.

What does everyone else think?