Annette Januzzi Wick is an award-winning writer, speaker, teacher, and author of three memoirs, including I’ll Be in the Car and I’ll Have Some of Yours. Her work has appeared in Writer’s Digest, Creative Nonfiction, Belt Magazine, Cincinnati Magazine, Edible Ohio Valley, and Italian American journals. Her latest, Something Italian: From Distant Shores to Family Tables, The Recipes That Held Us Together, blends stories of immigration, family, and food. A former tech consultant and coffee entrepreneur, Annette lives in Cincinnati while her imagination wanders to her Italian roots and the Oregon coast. She writes at annettewick.com and on Substack: Morning Finds.
Annette will be reading from her latest book, Something Italian, at Women Writing for (a) Change, 6906 Plainfield Road, Cincinnati, OH 45236, on Friday, May 15, 7:00 – 9:00 PM. Register here. Then on Saturday, May 16, she will be offering a workshop, “Finding Memoir in Food,” from 10:00 AM – 1:00 PM, also at Women Writing. Cost; $39. Register here.
What past event do you often reflect upon, and how did that event change you?
As a memoirist, I’ll reflect on all aspects of my life. Writers often tell one story, over and over, reframing their essential questions based on current experiences to gain new wisdom. In my life’s pivotal events –– sitting bedside when my grandfather died, preparing for my young husband’s death and later, that of my parents, and further, my infant oldest brother’s death, grief changed in me –– and through me. As a youngster, I grew more irreverent. In my grandfather’s death, angry. In my husband’s death, maturity. In my parent’s death, accountable. I witnessed my own stages of growth from grief.
How does your work add to the quality of your life?
Writing doesn’t feel like work. When I write, the world makes sense. On the page, I encounter society’s ponderings and mine. On paper, I struggle and celebrate, mourn and love. That’s the work of a writer. That’s the work of a human being.
Recently, a meditation guru spoke about starting over to find friends after a job loss. I discovered writing after my young husband had died. I too was starting over. My extended family became artists and writers, seekers and listeners. I made a home in writing, which aided me in making a home in the world.
Tell us a story you would like to share with the world.
As a teen, our home sat west of the intersection of Washington and Lincoln Streets, symbolizing the wisdom of “founding fathers.” Whenever I approached that stop, my father, outlined by khaki work pants stained white with old paint, became visible. He kept a close eye as I took the turn from Lincoln to Washington without pause.
His motto to us, years later, whenever we drove to the family home in the dark or rain: There’s never anywhere you have to be, that you can’t be five minutes late. He was wrong. Home—I never wanted to be late for home.
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Author photo: Courtesy of author
Side bar image: Pixabay/Edar
