The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire #109: Samantha Mann
"It will always be subversive for women, particularly a queer woman, to write about her life."
Since 2010, in various publications, I’ve interviewed authors—mostly memoirists—about aspects of writing and publishing. Initially I did this for my own edification, as someone who was struggling to find the courage and support to write and publish my memoir. I’m still curious about other authors’ experiences, and I know many of you are, too. So, inspired by the popularity of The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire, I’ve launched The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire.
Here’s the 109th installment, featuring , author of Dyke Delusions: Essays & Observations.-Sari Botton
P.S. Check out all the interviews in The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire series.
Samantha Mann is a Brooklyn based writer covering queer life, popular culture, mental health, and motherhood. She has written for Vogue, The Cut, Elle, Huffington Post, Bon Appetit, Bustle, Washington Post Magazine, and others. Her essay, The Orgasm Gap and DJ Khaled, was featured in Roxane Gay’s newsletter, The Audacity.
Samantha is the author of the essay collection, Putting Out: Essays on Otherness (Read Furiously, New Jersey 2019). In 2023 Putting Out was added to CLMPS recommended reading list for Women's History Month. Samantha edited and curated the anthology, I Feel Love: Notes on Queer Joy (Read Furiously, June 2022). Buzzfeed Book review said, "This is the perfect collection for readers looking to appreciate and celebrate the many talented writers within the LGBTQIA+ community."
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How old are you, and for how long have you been writing?
I’m 36. I’ve been writing since I was at least 12 years old, though I began seriously journaling in 1st grade and continued through college. I started writing with the intent to publish at 28.
What’s the title of your latest book, and when was it published?
Dyke Delusions: Essays & Observations is published today, June 3rd, 2025
What number book is this for you?
Two, technically three if you count the anthology I curated and edited.
How do you categorize your book—as a memoir, memoir-in-essays, essay collection, creative nonfiction, graphic memoir, autofiction—and why?
Essay collection—this book is a classic essay collection, which I’d say are harder to find these days. Unless you’re David Sedaris, mainstream publishing is obsessed with essay collections having tight themes, which in my opinion is the antithesis of the idea of an essay collection. This collection is corralled by broad themes including girlhood, motherhood, and body.
This book is a classic essay collection, which I’d say are harder to find these days. Unless you’re David Sedaris, mainstream publishing is obsessed with essay collections having tight themes, which in my opinion is the antithesis of the idea of an essay collection. This collection is corralled by broad themes including girlhood, motherhood, and body.
What is the “elevator pitch” for your book?
It’s a nonlinear memoir-in-essays that confronts the body, motherhood, and queerness with tenderness and humor. It opens with unfettered joy, freedom, and power I found in childhood as a serial flasher and chronicles my attempts to regain those feelings of being fully present and comfortable in my skin.
What’s the back story of this book including your origin story as a writer? How did you become a writer, and how did this book come to be?
Not to sound woo-woo or cheesy, but I identified as a writer well before any other cultural identities; ie, Jewish, Gay, Female, etc. Growing up I was always more of an observer than a participant. Like many lesbian writers, watching Harriet the Spy for the first time at age 8 was hugely formative for me. I understood myself better after finding Harriet and glommed onto the identity of being a watcher and writer.
There isn’t a huge story for this book. I always wanted to publish a book, and after I published my last essay collection, I just assumed I’d keep doing it until I couldn’t anymore. If someone will let me, I’ll keep writing books. I simply love to explore my life and aspects of pop culture.
It will always be subversive for women, particularly a queer woman, to write about her life. I’ve had plenty of people ask, “What’s the point of the personal essay? Who cares about that time you flashed your neighbor or went to the psychiatric hospital or hated your body? Who Cares?” If people don’t like to read nonfiction, fine, don’t read it. But having accounts of people processing/exploring/coming to term with their lives, particularly those with marginalized lives, will always be vital. It will always be a form of representation, comfort, and proof of life. You are documenting being alive. At a minimum you are not allowing others to speak for you or your experiences.
What were the hardest aspects of writing this book and getting it published?
I am lucky to work with a small press who has always trusted my vision, but generally getting someone to think what you wrote is worth publishing is the toughest part, and is the part that can mess with your head making you second guess if what you are doing is “worth it.”
There are so many no’s in publishing. For every essay I’ve published there are 10-20 others that were passed on. It takes a lot of mental work to separate the no’s from your feelings of worth as a writer and feelings of legitimacy.
The hardest part of writing this book was the editing process. I am extremely type B, so the nuanced part of editing is never my favorite.
I’ve had plenty of people ask, “What’s the point of the personal essay? Who cares about that time you flashed your neighbor or went to the psychiatric hospital or hated your body? Who Cares?” If people don’t like to read nonfiction, fine, don’t read it. But having accounts of people processing/exploring/coming to term with their lives, particularly those with marginalized lives, will always be vital. It will always be a form of representation, comfort, and proof of life. You are documenting being alive. At a minimum you are not allowing others to speak for you or your experiences.
How did you handle writing about real people in your life? Did you use real or changed names and identifying details? Did you run passages or the whole book by people who appear in the narrative? Did you make changes they requested?
Everyone has their own take on how to write about others. The only person I run anything by is my wife, and luckily she has always been extremely open about my writing and has never asked me to not write anything or censor any of our experiences. Otherwise, I don’t generally check in with anyone. When writing about friends I change names, identifying characteristics, or even create amalgamations of people.
There was one story in this essay collection (When We Believed), which was about a specific incident from girlhood. I used working on the essay as an opportunity to reach out to this friend to confirm her memory with mine, and it was a good excuse to call someone that I don’t talk to on the regular anymore and reminiscence together. For now I write about experiences with my kids, but if either of them asked me not to I would honor that.
Who is another writer you took inspiration from in producing this book? Was it a specific book, or their whole body of work? (Can be more than one writer or book.)
When looking for layouts of essay collections, I was drawn to
’s Bad Feminist. I liked that it was an old school grab bag of essays, but it’s organized in a way that makes it easy for readers to pick and choose a section or certain essay if they want and sets up overarching themes for the work. When I write, I am always trying to channel my favorite nonfiction writers ( , , —just to name a few!) who all write down to the bone in beautifully lyrical ways.What advice would you give to aspiring writers looking to publish a book like yours, who are maybe afraid, or intimidated by the process?
The process is grueling, but my biggest piece of advice is to keep at it and don’t expect anything to happen overnight. *Particularly if you don’t have a MFA—like me! I’ve been publishing for almost a decade. I started by cold pitching editors, and just in the past few years have begun landing bigger bylines. Like any field, you have to put in your time. *This is not to say that publishing isn’t also deeply unfair, unlevel, racist, misogynistic, ableist, sexist, classist, etc.
Learn everything you can about the industry and the people in it. Make a community. Go to readings. Introduce yourself to editors. Be brave. No one cares about your writing as much as you, so just do it. Don’t write the essay half assed. If you write with half of your ass (leaving out the important and tough bits) then don’t bother. You would not believe the amount of women I work with one-on-one who want to write an essay but are worried that people will judge them, that they aren’t good enough, or their story isn't worth sharing, etc, etc. Let me tell you, these women have great, interesting, complex lives worth writing about, but so many of them are paralyzed by fear that they end up not trying. It bums me out beyond belief.
If you feel the calling, just do it. I also always think about this Reese Witherspoon quote, she is actually quoting an older actress who says something like, Ladies, I’ve been on the front of the bus, and I’ve been on the back of the bus, but I’m still on the bus. You gotta stay on the bus. I tell myself this all the time.
What do you love about writing?
I love when a piece finally clicks. I love when I start writing one essay and end up with a completely different one. I love surprising myself. I love figuring out what I want to say. I love letting a rip.
What frustrates you about writing?
Writing without the pressure or desire to publish doesn’t frustrate me, it’s all the external stuff that I feel frustrated by. The constant stream of no’s makes me question my initial ideas. The more I publish, the harder time I have staying connected to my internal creative compass.
What about writing surprises you?
I am surprised—and excited—that I have gotten better over the years. I love knowing that writers become better with age. I always feel so sad for the Olympic athletes who peak at 22!
I am lucky to work with a small press who has always trusted my vision, but generally getting someone to think what you wrote is worth publishing is the toughest part, and is the part that can mess with your head making you second guess if what you are doing is “worth it.” There are so many no’s in publishing. For every essay I’ve published there are 10-20 others that were passed on. It takes a lot of mental work to separate the no’s from your feelings of worth as a writer and feelings of legitimacy.
Does your writing practice involve any kind of routine, or writing at specific times?
My most important writing practice was learning to differentiate between times when I don’t feel like writing but I should be writing, and times when I don’t feel like writing and I should take a break. I don’t have a specific writing time or structured practice. There are times when I write for hours a day throughout the week and times when I don’t write for months. I am always trying to stay open to collecting in my subconscious (reading, music, observing, seeing live theater, looking at art, etc.).
Do you engage in any other creative pursuits, professionally or for fun? Are there non-writing activities you consider to be “writing” or supportive of your process?
Taking psychotically long walks is a huge part of my process. Sometimes I will set out with some kind of intention for the walk, but often I just walk and assume my brain is doing the work it needs to do so I can sit down later and type something out. Living in New York City is perfect for those of us who like to walk three to seven miles for no reason. I’ve gotten very into baking, which requires precision and patience, attributes I don’t naturally have, so I hope practicing those skills is leaking into my writing. To the surprise of no one in my family, my bakes continue to be mediocre and often over cooked!
What’s next for you? Do you have another book planned, or in the works?
I’m working on a new essay collection about what life looks like after the “healing journey,” tentatively titled Slouching Towards Sanity.
Great interview! I especially loved the parts about the personal essay. I couldn’t agree more!
"I always feel so sad for the Olympic athletes who peak at 22!"
This is good perspective. There's hope for writers to hit Olympic peak performance well into their Oldster years!