Brandy Lien Worrall-Soriano

Long (But Super-Fun!) Bio

I don’t like writing about myself in the third person most of the time, so I’m not going to do it here. Hi. My name is Brandy Liên Worrall, and I am a human being who thinks about writing all the time, would love to write all the time, but only writes about 25% of the time because I have things like a husband, three kids, two cats, and 35 (and counting) snails (we’re the Duggars of gastropods, yes), all of whom I love. I grew up in Amish country Pennsylvania, which isn’t exotic as it sounds, but now I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world, Vancouver, British Columbia, as a struggling writer because being a writer isn’t as Hollywood as everyone thinks it is.

So what do I write? Stuff. I’ve written a bunch of poetry, starting my career as a poet trying out limericks when I was 7. My first award-winning work as a short story submission to a Kellogg’s cereal contest back in the 80s, when pro-literacy and anti-drugs campaigns were big (“Here’s your brain on drugs”: a delicious-looking fried egg just begging for a few squirts of Tabasco). Kellogg’s sent me a certificate basically saying, “Way to go! You wrote words!” Somewhere out there is a person who gave me that first award, and that person has no idea that their minimum-wage job would someday propel a budding young writer to quasi literary stardom.

One of the reasons I loved writing was because there was nothing else for me to do. As an epileptic child of an overprotective Vietnamese mother and a substance-loving American father—both of whom were traumatized during the Vietnam War where they met and got married—I wasn’t allowed to go out of the house very much. So I stayed home and paid attention to things everyone was trying to ignore or forget—mostly, what happened during this war no one was supposed to talk about but which brought us together as a family.

I hightailed it out of that small town as soon as I could. I went to Regis College, an all-women’s Catholic college near Boston. I was never Catholic, and I didn’t care either way if the school was all-women or not. I went to Regis because I loved New Kids on the Block, and they were from Boston, and I wanted to be close to them. Lucky for me, Regis turned out to be a terrific college, and I graduated summa cum laude with degrees in English literature and French. This is where I became seriously interested in the literature of my Asian heritage, delving into Asian American and Vietnamese French works. I went to Boston College for my MA in English for one year, but that didn’t work out when I tried writing a post-colonial, people of colour critique of Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” and didn’t get the grade I was expecting.

But the UCLA Asian American Studies MA Program called my name, and off to sunny southern California I drove. For those of you keeping track, this was during the early years of the Internet when all that existed was the dial-up modem. So I got my Masters (of the Universe) degree and became an editor at Amerasia Journal, the leading journal for Asian American Studies. Loved working there, but the Universe had bigger plans for me that included kids, Canada, and cancer.

Once in Canada with my two babies and their father, I decided to take my writing career seriously, and the world-renowned UBC MFA in Creative Writing Program was so thoroughly impressed by my portfolio that they let me in. Yes! That was awesome.

But then I got diagnosed with stage III multifocal Triple Negative Breast Cancer (BRCA2-positive, for those of you in the know), and that was the opposite of awesome. I did my treatment and got back to life as usual. Except life wasn’t the same anymore. It was a whole new beast. And I was traumatized by it.

More bad things happened, and then a funny (not “funny, haha”) thing happened. I started understanding better what my parents must have felt during my childhood—the isolation of having gone through a horrifying experience that most of one’s young adult peers could not even imagine. And all those things I paid attention to when I was a kid—those things that everyone else tried to ignore or forget—started making more sense. My memoir, What Doesn’t Kill Us, goes through all that pathos with the bravado of a Lifetime Network movie. (Oprah, I’m waiting for your call, girlfriend!) This is the part where I’m supposed to write something like the book is Margaret Cho meets Eat, Pray, Love meets Oliver Stone movies meets Miss Saigon meets Fault in Our Stars, in some last-ditch attempt to sell you on all these personae that made their authors/creators a buttload of fame and fortune, but really, to have all those people in one room (or book) wouldn’t be fun, methinks. But yeah, this book is like all that.

Now I’m working on my second memoir while doing my undercover crime-fighting gig. I’m also owner and editor of Rabbit Fool Press, a teeny tiny family-owned-and-operated publishing company. I also teach writing workshops, and omigod, I love baking bread.

That’s me—Brandy Liên Worrall—in a coconut shell. My kids think I’m funny and interesting, and they have high standards, especially The Tweens (even the emo one). I hope you think the same thing and read my books (I got poetry too—no limericks though) and check out Rabbit Fool Press. Bless you for reading to the end. My hand cramped up, so I hope it was all worth it.

Oh yeah, I’m represented by these amazing people: Anne McDermid & Associates Literary Agency.

Short (and Stiff) Bio

Brandy Liên Worrall is author of What Doesn’t Kill Us, a groundbreaking memoir about growing up in the din of her Vietnamese mother and American father’s trauma from the Vietnam War, and how it related to her breast cancer experience as a young adult. She is also the author of eight collections of poetry (the podBrandy series), as well as having served as editor of numerous magazines, journals, and anthologies. She is the owner and editor of Rabbit Fool Press, a small family-owned-and-operated publishing company based in Vancouver. Brandy received her MA in Asian American Studies from UCLA in 2002 and her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia in 2012. She is represented by the Anne McDermid & Associates Literary Agency.

“What Doesn’t Kill Us” Book Info

What Doesn’t Kill Us chronicles Brandy’s journey with an aggressive, rare breast cancer at the age of 31. The book reflects on the parallels between her experiences with cancer, and her American father’s and Vietnamese mother’s trauma and survival during and after the Vietnam War. The book crosses borders, from rural, Amish-country Pennsylvania, where Brandy had grown up, to Vancouver, where she lived with her parents, husband, and two young children while enduring aggressive chemotherapy, radiation, and a double mastectomy. The book also explores the enduring legacy of chemical warfare on three generations. That both of her parents had been heavily exposed to Agent Orange does not escape Brandy, who searches for reasons why she would have cancer despite not having a family history, as well as having had epilepsy as a child. She also wonders how this exposure has touched her own children. Brandy tells her story with razor-sharp humour and wit, leaving readers a lasting impression of the meaning of survival.

(A few of the many amazing) What Doesn’t Kill Us Reviews

“Brandy Liên Worrall writes bluntly and boldly. Facing the end, she not only strives to live her moments but to live with a … firecracker BANG!!!”
– Wayson Choy, award-winning author of The Jade Peony and Paper Shadows: A Chinatown Childhood

“Brandy Liên Worrall tells a spell-binding story from a unique perspective. She covers a lot of territory with urgency and attitude. A 2014 must-read.”
– Bryan Thao Worra, award-winning author of Demonstra: A Poetry Collection

What Doesn’t Kill Us is about Brandy Lien Worrall’s experience with an aggressive and rare form of cancer. I thought this was a well-written and riveting book, and I read it in a few hours. Brandy had an agent for the book, but she kept on running into roadblocks with marketing departments at book publishers, as they kept saying, “This is just another cancer memoir.” So Brandy decided to self-publish. This is not just another cancer memoir. It’s a book about family, love history, war and race.
– Alexis Kienlen, author of She Dreams In Red and 13

Frequently Asked Questions

Some people read the book. Here’s what they wanted to know. If you have a question, leave a comment, and I will try to answer it in a way that will allow you to look into my soul.

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Are you concerned about your friends and relatives, especially your children, reading the book and looking into your soul? Not really. In fact, I hope they can get a glimpse of my soul. It’s not a bad soul, after all. At least, as far as I know.

What was the first thing you ever got published? My BFF Lisa claims it was a poem in a Christian youth magazine. She might be correct.

What is your routine when writing?  Do you have any particular ways to stay motivated or inspired? Ah, the elusive writing routine. It’s what many a writer has chased after. A few have succeeded in actually taking hold of this near-mythical beast. Alas, I must admit that as much as I would LOVE to have a routine, I do not. I write down drafts and outlines of routines, trust me. But I have things like kids and cats and housework and a serious lack of consistent focus and energy that get in the way of my dreams of having a routine. What I try to maintain is a steady visit to my journal cause real life is fucking nuts.

What made you decide to write this memoir?  Was there a particular motivation involved? From a young age, I knew my family was not like others, particularly when I was teased at school for being racially different. Racism of all kinds influenced my childhood, and I knew that that racism also came from a really significant war that we didn’t talk about much. As I became older, I’d get snippets of family history as different family members would come to think I was mature enough to know about certain things, or perhaps they just needed an outlet for the time being. In any case, when I reached my mid-20s, I felt an unshakeable drive to find out more about my family and write about their stories.

I knew that my parents, sister, and I lived together under a cloud of trauma, depression, and substance abuse. I knew our particular configuration of personalities, neuroses, faiths and beliefs was compelling enough to illustrate some poignancy about the human condition and how one endures trauma, loss, grief, individually and collectively. Yet really, every family has these demons, and in that, we were/are not special. But the process by which I approached our trauma and stories was liberating, and I felt strongly that these stories could be liberating for other audiences as well. That’s always been my primary motivation for writing. Liberation—and connection.

I was in the middle of writing a very premature draft of this book when I was diagnosed with cancer. Through the course of treatment and my parents coming to live with me to help out, the narrative took on a whole other dimension, which gave me even more motivation to write it. Through all these seemingly disparate experiences came forth a universality about isolation and survival.

Will this memoir have a sequel? Most certainly. I’m working on it now. Before I published this book, I knew there would be a sequel. I didn’t know exactly how it would play out, but as it so often happens in my life, circumstances are constantly laying down the narrative. The last draft of What Doesn’t Kill Us was completed just when my father was diagnosed with terminal metastatic lung cancer, which the doctors said was due to his exposure to Agent Orange, in March 2014. He died seventeen days after his diagnosis, hence the title of my work-in-progress, 17 Days. Like the first book, it’s almost as if it’s writing itself in real-time, in the present, while bringing up and making connections to gaps, traumas, and misunderstood moments during which crucial decisions were made and alternate paths were paved. The process of writing this second book is terrifying, unpredictable, and exciting. I can’t see what happens.

Have you had any feedback from certain people whose names were changed in the book? Yes, I have. It’s been all positive feedback so far, which is a huge relief. Most importantly though, my father got to read a few chapters before he passed away, and he loved them. He laughed, and of course he took credit for my sense of humour. That will always be the biggest reassurance to me. Nothing can top his reaction.

Does your mother think writing and publishing this story will speed your way to Buddhist heaven or hell? I’m not sure, as her Buddhist faith is mysterious, fluid, and too much for the average mind to comprehend.

You don’t seem very inhibited. Was there anything you left out of the book that you were just too embarrassed to share? Not really. I revel in self-deprecation. Life is too sad a lot of times. I laugh a lot and pinpoint the absurdity in heavy stuff to combat the sadness. I mean, really, life is just so weird.

Your book is very candid. When do you think your children will be mature enough to read your book? I’ve had this discussion with them. I expressed to them that I hope they will know when they are mature enough to read it, and that this probably won’t be until they’re in their late teens. But I also know that they will do what they want to do, regardless of what I say. I don’t want to be in denial as a parent—children are humans too, with their own minds and wills. The only thing I can do is hope that they respect my wishes, and so far, they say they will, and I believe them. We are a very open, close family because we have been through so much together.

What parts, if any, of the book were difficult for you to write? Most of it. It’s an odd tension between being a memoirist who crafts real life into stories full of introspection and reflection for a particular reason, and as a person who has experienced these traumas first-hand. Of course, there’s an inherent hesitation to relive or revisit any of that, to deal with triggers and nightmares. During the course of writing this book, I had to be on top of my mental health and wellness plan. I had to know when it was time to go to therapy to work out some of the stuff that was surfacing and could be damaging while I was writing about it. And luckily, I couldn’t ask for a more gracious, caring, and sensitive husband than the one I have, or more supportive or loving friends to whom I could turn when I needed them. Ultimately, I kept my focus on the good that would come out of writing this book, and that’s what kept me going when the demons were sometimes almost too much to handle.

How has writing about your illness changed how you remember or experience your illness? I’d like to say that documenting my illness has made me completely empowered about my health, mortality, and how I live my life. There are moments when it certainly has given me that sense. But having cancer fucking sucks, as was the title of my blog I started when I got diagnosed. It’s shit. The good parts of writing about having cancer, about talking about having had cancer at a young age, are connecting with others in the same boat and being part of a community of very special, very fucking strong individuals. And the thing about cancer is that even if you are in remission, there are often residual health and psychological side effects that remain for the rest of your life. So when I have those days when the residue seems unbearable, I can go back and say, “Okay, things aren’t or won’t be what they used to be, but holy shit—that person was me, and I’m still here.”

Aside from your blog, did you keep a journal throughout your cancer journey? How did you recall so many events? My journal was exactly how I recalled so many events. I’ve read so many studies that tout journal writing as a healthful way to recover from illness. It’s cathartic. Writing down what troubles you releases those ills, puts words to them, allows you as the author to have power over what’s making you sick, whether it’s cancer, relationship issues, or any other problem. It would be pretty impossible for me to write anything without my journal.

What made you want to become a writer? I recently found a worn yellow piece of notebook paper from the first grade. We were given the question: What do you want to be when you grow up? I wrote that I wanted to be a writer and teacher. I loved my teachers—I loved learning, and I was always a good student because I wasn’t really good at anything else, being the small, sickly child I was. So I wanted to be a teacher someday. But I wanted to be a writer too because I spent a lot of time by myself with my imagination because my mother was overprotective and didn’t allow me to do much outside the house. My imagination was my best friend, and it helped me cope with experiencing my childhood in isolation. I could make up stories and have a life through them.

What challenges did you face in writing in your mother’s voice? There weren’t challenges. Writing the dialogue came so easily to me because of what I’d written in my journal, and how I hear people talk when I do write the dialogue. I find it interesting that people focus on my portrayal of my mother’s voice and don’t seem to notice that I also write my father’s voice with his distinct tone. Some people read mockery into my mother’s dialogue, but I don’t see it that way. That’s how she talks. That’s her syntax, just as my dad’s incorrect grammar with his twang and slur is his way of talking. In fact—yeah, I was that super annoying kid who went around correcting everyone’s grammar at family dinners. But my mom’s voice, my dad’s voice—my sister’s and anybody else who has a voice in my book—that’s how I hear them talk. To have them talk in any other way would be entirely inauthentic and deceptive.

What authors have influenced you as a writer? My grandmother gave me Helen Keller’s autobiography to read when I was five (I learned to read when I was three). I really can’t tell you how many times I read that book, but it was a lot. I guess you could say that book planted the seed in terms of how I found real stories to be so powerful and exciting to read. When I was in my teens, I read a lot of Stephen King and Douglas Adams. Those authors introduced to me the fantastical, nightmarish, and absurd characteristics of narrative about life. Then I turned to Maxine Hong Kingston, Barbara Kingsolver, Toni Morrison, Mary Karr, Jeannette Walls—to name a few of the masterful storytellers I so admire. During my cancer treatment, I was enthralled by Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face, Catherine Lord’s The Summer of Her Baldness, and Jean-Dominique Baby’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Those three books were most closest friends when I’d lie in an abyss of pain and suffering. They helped me see that writing in the face of death would have redeeming qualities that would long survive me.

If/When your book gets picked up for a Lifetime/Hallmark/Hollywood movie, who would you want to play you? Oprah. She turns everything into gold.

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