Weird is normal, says Montreal journalist
MONTREAL — Montrealbased journalist Marissa Miller’s debut book, Pretty Weird: Overcoming Impostor Syndrome and Other Oddly Empowering Lessons, is the kind she says she always wanted to read.
The comedic, unfiltered deep dive into Miller’s life, on shelves May 25, details harrowing personal experiences complete with revelations on how to cope in similar situations — ones Miller has found are all too familiar when people are brave enough to talk about them.
“That’s kind of the irony about the book: I claim to be so weird, but that’s only because I’m one of the first people talking about how weird I am in this candid way,” Miller said, referring at least in part to the regular mentioning of her bowel movements (which aren’t great after a greasy Shabbat dinner).
“We’re all weird, rendering none of us weird,” she said.
The book takes readers through Miller’s childhood and adolescence and the feeling of otherness that characterized both, set in the predominantly Jewish neighbourhood of Côte-st-luc, nearby Notre-damede-grâce and sleepaway camps.
She recalls throwing a tantrum at age three when she realized her thighs touched when she walked; how she initially simplified a string of sexual assaults as “standard teenage promiscuity;” and coming to terms with the fact that she did not fit the mould of what a nice, young Jewish girl is supposed to be (either a future lawyer or doctor, and not weird).
“I think I gave up the notion that I’ll ever fit in,” Miller said. “I’m tired of hiding who I am. I think shame really festers in the darkness, and so to be able to kind of relinquish control of dictating my own narrative and just being honest about it, there’s nothing left for me to be ashamed about because it’s all out there.”
As the title suggests, the overarching theme of the book is imposter syndrome: feeling undeserving of one’s professional accomplishments. For Miller, feelings of inadequacy permeated every facet of life. For a long time, she didn’t feel like she could say she had an eating disorder or that she had been assaulted (because other people had it worse) and didn’t feel like the model of what a bride, wife or divorcee should be (because other people did it better).
“I had imposter syndrome over writing this book on imposter syndrome, so even owning my own experiences and solidifying these things on the page took a lot. It was not as easy as filing some of the service journalism I do for women’s magazines,” said Miller, who writes for publications such as Vogue, Women’s Health, the New York Times, the Washington Post, USA Today, GQ and CNN, among others.
The conception of Pretty Weird dates back to a Mykonos beach in 2016. Miller had her laptop on hand, as any journalist who works on her own schedule does. She dove into the project head first and never looked back.
“That was before I had an agent, before I had a publisher, before I had anything,” she said. “I’m one of those people who wakes up in the morning and decides to do something and just does it, because then I don’t give myself a chance to back down, I don’t give myself a chance to change my own mind.”
Though some may take issue with the offensive language and vivid detail with which Miller recounts her experiences — like the time she shred her butt cheeks “like mozzarella cheese” on a Slip ‘N Slide as a child — she felt like she owed it to her readers to be authentic.
“When books are … not graphic to the point of being gratuitous, but honest, I feel respected because the message they’re sending is: I can handle the truth and I know my readers can too,” she said. “People who’ve read my work know that I do get very candid, and I do use some jarring language and paint some jarring images, but these are the types of stories that they themselves are probably experiencing in their own unique way, and so to withhold that from them is to say ‘I don’t think you can handle the truth, and I don’t think you’re worthy of exploring your own truth.’”
Miller said her parents joke to their friends that they hope they’ll look at them the same way after reading their daughter’s book, in which she details how some of her struggles stemmed in part from her upbringing (though she says it was great). Ultimately, they’re proud of her bravery in sharing her stories, she said.
“My parents are the funniest people I know — where do you think I learned how to talk like this?” Miller asked. “You know some people might be like, ‘Oh Marissa’s been watching too many Rrated movies,’ and it’s like no, I’ve been hanging out with my amazing accountant and scientist parents, who are like upstanding members of society but can also roast me to death if they wanted.”
Writing Pretty Weird was emotionally gruelling, Miller said, but it has also been therapeutic to arrive at a place — through actual therapy — where she can openly and honestly talk about her experiences, and in so doing, hopefully help others navigate theirs.
“You know the joke ‘normalize this, normalize that’? How about normalize being honest?” she said. “Normalize being honest, and de-normalize, or criminalize, putting on this sweet saccharin choreography. That doesn’t get anyone anywhere, when we all just are wearing masks like we’re at a masquerade party. You can’t connect with anyone that way.”
Pretty Weird is everything anyone’s ever needed to know about Miller, condensed into a 225-page package.
“(If someone says), ‘Hey Marissa, what do you want me to know about you?’ I’ll just hand them that book,” she said. “Skip the convo. We’ll go from like, pleasantries, to here’s what you need to know about my bowel schedule.”
“I had imposter syndrome over writing this book on imposter syndrome, so even owning my own experiences and solidifying these things on the page took a lot. It was not as easy as filing some of the service journalism I do for women’s magazines.” Marissa Miller Montreal freelance journalist