Teressa Shelton

Teressa Shelton is the author of The Sergeant's Daughter (She Writes Press, August 11), a memoir reminiscent of The Glass Castle. It follows Teressa and her sisters through a childhood of abuse and torment, aided only by the solace of books, music, and family found outside of their home, until Teressa ultimately escapes to build a better life for herself. She has lived in nine states and three countries. After graduating from Belmont University in Nashville, she embarked on a career in managing medical practices. The Sergeant’s Daughter is her first book. She lives with her family in Springfield, IL.

Instagram: @teressajshelton

Is there a genre of music that influences your writing/thinking? Do you listen to music while you write?

Music is always playing in my mind, and has been for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories are surrounded in song. Most of the time I hear Motown music. I was heavily influenced by my dad, who was a huge fan. Music was always playing in our home. Maybe because of this, music is a major theme in my book. Lyrics are even embedded in the body of my work.

I don’t play music (and I try to silence the songs playing in my head) while I’m writing. I find it too distracting. But when I get stuck, I’ll turn on a song from the period about which I’m writing. Sometimes I have to listen to the song several times, but eventually it takes me back. Like rewinding the clock and I’m able to go back and finish the story I’m trying to tell.

Is your go to comfort food sweet or savory? Is it something you make yourself? Does food inspire your writing?

To say I have a sweet tooth would be a gross understatement. While I’m eating my entrée, I’m already thinking about dessert. It’s usually either chocolate or pie.

I have to have a piece of chocolate every night. Sometimes it’s chocolate with caramel filling, and sometimes it’s a big chunk of plain dark chocolate. I take tiny bites and savor every morsel.

I started eating pie when my husband and I got married.  Early on, my mother-in-law told me, “Now that you’re a  part of the family, you’ll have to learn to make pie.” She gave me several lessons before I got it right. My kids are pie lovers, too. I used to have birthday cakes for them until they got old enough to ask for a pie instead. We all have our favorites: my husband loves cherry, my daughter peach, and my two boys love blackberry. I don’t have a favorite. My husband’s grandfather was fond of saying, “I like two kinds of pie: hot and cold.” That’s how I feel, too.

Have you ever experienced Imposter Syndrome?

Are you kidding! At almost every juncture of my life Imposter Syndrome has creeped up on me. I’ve been constantly plagued by the feeling that I’m not good enough, and that at any moment, someone  might figure out that I don’t belong.

I remember that as a little girl, a neighbor once complimented my good behavior. I knew not to believe it. I had just been mean to my sister, and if she ever found that out, she’d know I wasn’t a nice girl. I was a fraud.

When teachers told me I was smart, and gave me an A, I was sure it wasn’t my talent or intelligence that had earned the grade. It was luck. The things I’d studied just happened to be on the test.

In high school I was nominated for Homecoming Queen, but thought I didn’t deserve the recognition. I didn’t belong next to the four other girls who were truly kind and friendly. If they knew the true Teressa, they wouldn’t have voted for me.

I tried to call off my wedding two weeks beforehand, I tried to call it off because I knew I couldn’t keep up the façade much longer.  I knew that after we married my husband would see who I really was and he wouldn’t be able to love me anymore.

With every promotion I received at work, I feared I’d be fired. They’d find out that I wasn’t really as qualified as they had thought.

Nobody talked about these feelings when I was a kid or in college. I confessed them to my husband and he helped me confront them. But it wasn’t until my oldest son began business school and was experiencing some of the same feelings that I learned  what I had felt all these years was called Imposter Syndrome. Many in his class were experiencing it, and it was openly discussed. The Dean even covered it during orientation. I envied and admired the frankness with which he was able to confront the feeling.

I still suffer from a light case of Imposter Syndrome now. My internal voice will occasionally say, “I’m not a writer,” even though I’ve written and published a book. “It was luck,” my internal voice continues. I have to remind myself how long and hard I worked. And maybe it was, in part, luck. But that doesn’t disqualify the achievement as my own.

Not all books are for all readers… when you start a book and you just don’t like it, how long do you read until you bail?

A real weakness of mine: putting down a book I don’t like. It is extremely difficult for me to stop reading a book once I’ve started it. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of books I haven’t finished. It’s just not in my character. I’m a finish-what-you-start sort of gal. It’s a trait I like about myself.

I usually know within 50 pages if I’m going to like a book. If I’m not feeling it, I’ll put the book down and do a little more research, especially if it’s an award- or prize-winning book. I’ll read more reviews and convince myself to continue. I’ll say, “It looks like something that you should read. Give it another 50 pages.” So, I do and most of the time I’ll keep going. If after the additional fifty pages I still don’t like the book, I’ll ask friends if they’ve read it and, if so, if it was worth the read. I know that what I’m really asking is permission to put the book down.

Recently, a bright young woman shared her strategy with me. She said, “There are too many wonderful books out there to spend your time reading something you don’t like. I say, it’s okay to let it go.” I think of her words every time I get to page 100 and I’m still not liking the book. I won’t say it works every time, but these days I’m feeling better about closing the book before I’ve finished it, and donating it to the library.

What piece of clothing tells the most interesting story about your life?

The first thing that pops into my mind is an outfit my grandfather bought for me when I was eleven. The outfit consisted of a pair of shorts and a matching crop top. It was bright orange with yellow daisies printed along the bottom of the top and shorts. I no longer have the outfit but my memory of it is so vivid that it feels as though I do.

I’d spent a week caring for my grandfather while Grandma was away visiting her family. The day before Grandma was due to return, Grandpa surprised me with a trip to town. He didn’t tell me why we were going and when we got to the General Store, he asked the saleswoman if she had anything that might fit me. The only thing she had was the outfit. I suspected Grandpa would pass. He didn’t like shorts, especially the short shorts that were popular then. To my surprise, he asked me to try it on. As it turned out, we both liked the outfit; the shorts weren’t too short, and the crop top didn’t expose much of my midriff. When I walked out of the store, I held my head high. And I could tell by the big grin on his face, that Grandpa was proud I was his granddaughter. It made me feel a confidence that I rarely experienced as a child. 

I don’t think I wore the outfit more than a few times, but I remember it often as a souvenir of a wonderful week with my grandfather shortly before he passed away.