By Jeremy Sachs
April 2024
I thought I’d write a short ‘halfway there’ blog about the book I’ve been working on. Although, if I’m honest, it could just as well be titled, ‘Halfway through the first draft—with all the graphs, worksheets, and illustrations still to be started—and I’m slightly panicking.’ I may not be halfway through the entire workload yet, but I am halfway through deciding what I want this book to say, and that feels significant.
The book’s working title (still to be confirmed with the publisher) is An Intersectional Guide for Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse and Those Who Support Them: Masculinity Regrouped. It explores men’s experiences of sexual abuse, with attention to how identity (such as race, class, (dis)ability, gender, and sexuality) can help or hinder healing. It’s due to the publisher on 1st October 2024.
I knew writing a book would be challenging, especially for someone with limited energy and patience for sitting down and typing, but some of the challenges have caught me off guard. The first surprise was how the book’s themes, especially shame, started showing up in my dreams. I often say shame is ‘the most acute and destructive human emotion,’ so perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised when working on a chapter about it stirred all sorts of memories and feelings. During the day, too, I noticed I was more sensitive, easily frustrated or irritated. It was manageable but disconcerting—I thought I’d already worked through a lot of this. Once I finished the first draft of the shame chapter, those feelings eased, like the Kraken retreating to the depths.
The second surprise has been the loneliness. Although I typically enjoy working alone, writing a book has felt different. I went to a writers' group in a posh part of Glasgow, but the first person I met said, “God, I wish I was writing non-fiction—it’s so much easier. You’re lucky you’re not writing sci-fi.” I didn’t go back. Seeking someone to share my experience with, I reached out to two academic writers I know, one a public health researcher and the other a well-known psychosexual psychotherapist. When I asked if they ever struggled, both independently said, “Not really—I love sitting down and writing.” I can’t imagine ‘loving writing.’ The loneliness is amplified by doubts about whether the book is any good, whether it will find its audience, and most importantly, whether it will help survivors. Writing 85,000 words is akin to completing a PhD, but without a supervisor to scrutinise or guide me. So, I’m planning to lean on friends a bit more, to share my process until they know the book almost as well as I do. They may not be writers, but as therapists and artists, they’re in a good position to relate to my blend of insecurity and creativity.
One thing I’ve discovered is that I do love coming up with chapter titles. I get to be a bit playful while respecting the seriousness of these issues. I hope this playfulness invites a sense of kindness into the book—it’s not an academic text, but a companion guide for men and therapists alike. In honour of this small joy, here are the chapter titles I’ve drafted so far. I hope they’ll pique your interest when the book is published.
01. Introductions: I’m glad you’re here
02. What do we mean when we say ‘trauma’?
04. Masculinity - How to build a man.
05. The stomach-dissolving experience of shame.
07. Sex, gender and nurturing our authentic sexual self
08. Trust, relationships, and the bitter legacy of betrayal
09. Disclosure: The why, when, and, how.
Yorumlar