Throughout my childhood, my mother told stories of growing up in her father’s Detroit laundry business during the infancy of the auto industry, and later in a Cantonese village on the eve of the Sino-Japanese War. She also spoke of what it was like to survive as a live-in domestic worker and teen waitress in mid-century California. The stories felt almost mythological, being so far removed from my middle-class upbringing in the San Francisco Bay Area. How had this transformation happened in a generation? 

There were stories of gamblers, an American dream, and dashed hopes. And there were tales almost Dickensian in their pathos, of those who take advantage of the poor, of wartime privations, and toxic cultural expectations relating to marriage. But there were also stories about the power of persistence, the kindness of strangers, and the value of fighting for one’s little slice of happiness in this world.

Someday calls

In years past, I had interviewed Mom and her siblings and set down their powerful stories. I could hear my mother’s voice so clearly that I wrote in the first person. I had pipe dreams of publishing …someday. During the COVID-19 pandemic, with a life suddenly decluttered, someday called. 

And yet, who was I fooling? At the time, I was a ballet and ballroom instructor with little writing experience. I had done technical writing in previous employment, yet this hardly felt like a sterling credit. 

Still, I couldn’t help but think that if my mother had lived this extraordinary life and overcome so many hurdles to succeed, I could somehow find a way. With help from a developmental editor and a query-writing course, I polished a manuscript, sent out dozens of queries, and, to my joy, won a publishing contract for my book, The Strength of Water, with a small press in London. 

What I didn’t fully grasp was how heavily this press would rely on me to do the marketing. And what did I know as a dance instructor about marketing? Extremely little. Sales struggled.

A second chance

Still, the book won recognition, including a coveted starred Kirkus Review and a spot on Kirkus’s annual list of Top 100 Indie Books. And that led to its being picked up for republication by Sibylline Press, which is based in my home state of California.

Working with Sibylline has been a pleasure. Their author support and mentorship has been significantly more comprehensive. Sibylline’s tag line is “Publishing the brilliant work of women authors over 50.”

The story goes that one of the co-founders, an accomplished career writer, was tired of being ghosted by publishers once she reached a certain age. She was still an excellent writer with plenty of stories to tell and the skills to sell them, but she didn’t want to go the self-publishing route. Still, she couldn’t find a publisher willing to give her a chance anymore. She also knew there were other women in her position. Finally, she got a good friend and former publisher to come out of retirement, and together they founded Sibylline.

The result has been outstanding. Sibylline authors are winning awards, appearing on local television and podcasts, and hosting successful book talks at local bookstores. I just attended one where the store’s entire stock sold out.

Meeting mentors

For me, Sibylline has offered supportive mentorship, but it has also provided a community of wonderfully warm, intelligent, and creative women of a certain age who make the effort to show up for, encourage, and share tips with one another. This represents a chance to roll out my book the way I’d always hoped, among old friends and new.

What has changed since the first edition? For one thing, I am now a professional writer, and not just because I authored a book. During the pandemic, I picked up freelance employment as a community news writer, so I could work from home. Four years later, I still write for my local news outlet and even represented my employer at a recent Council on Foreign Relations workshop for local journalists.

With my skills improved, republishing has allowed me to improve the book’s language, make its theme more intentional, and add new vignettes, thereby enriching the story.

“Why didn’t you include any of your mother’s poetry?” my aunt asked when she read the first edition. Now, I’ve added one of Mom’s poems. My aunt recalled more wonderful stories, some of which I had never heard before, so I included one of those. Similarly, a family vacation led to my brother reminding me of an important story that I had forgotten, so I included that.

Sibylline’s book cover is beautiful, and they have improved the formatting with the inclusion of photos throughout.

Humanizing the Immigrant Experience

Most of all, in today’s environment, I look forward to amplifying a story that humanizes the immigrant experience. As I relate in The Strength of Water, my great-grandfather was an illegal immigrant. While I am not proud of that, I am not ashamed either. I understand why he and my grandfather came–simply put, they couldn’t earn enough at home to feed themselves and their families.

Too often, illegal immigrants are painted as nothing more than lawbreakers. And so we peel away their humanity. We learn not to care what happens to them. Stories can help tear down the walls we build around our hearts.

Each of us embarks on a journey to find a sense of belonging and our place in the world. When you’re an immigrant or an immigrant daughter, as my mother was, that story is so much more challenging–sometimes even epic.

---

The Strength of Water is scheduled for release on November 7, 2025.  It is available for pre-order as a print book or e-book wherever books are sold online. Better yet, join me at the book launch on November 13 at Books Inc. I cordially invite book reviewers to access ARCs through Netgalley and Booksprout.