Meet Deb Brandon

We recently connected with Deb Brandon and have shared our conversation below.

Deb, we’re so excited for our community to get to know you and learn from your journey and the wisdom you’ve acquired over time. Let’s kick things off with a discussion on self-confidence and self-esteem. How did you develop yours?

Lack of self-esteem is very common among Brits. Even though I was born in England,
I’ve lived most of my life outside the United Kingdom. But my English parents, in some ways,
brought me up in the British spirit, probably because that was how they were brought up.
Concerned for my vanity was fundamental to them. My achievements were downplayed. They
joked that my consistently good grades at school were boring. Words of praise were rare. As an
adult I learnt that many thought highly of me. But I never heard it from my parents.
Consequently, whenever anyone complimented me, I didn’t really believe them.
Impostor syndrome has plagued me throughout my life, in a variety of forms and
situations. The two that come to mind now are about being a mathematician and a writer. I never
quite got over it. It still resurfaces occasionally. But I have been able to keep it to a minimum
manageable level.
My impostor syndrome as a mathematician started way back when, several decades ago,
when I first applied to graduate schools in 1983. I felt that I probably wasn’t smart enough to
become a mathematician. Once I started my doctoral studies at Carnegie Mellon, my feelings of
inadequacy increased. I was surrounded by mathematicians and aspiring mathematicians, many
of whom, I believed, were smarter than me. Receiving my Ph.D. a year before all my
contemporaries helped alleviate some of these feelings. But my upbringing quickly intervened. It
was mostly a matter of luck, in my choice of academic advisor and the field or research. My
feeling of inadequacy rose to another level when I started applying for jobs. Every time I went

for a job interview, and whenever I started my new job, self-doubt plagued me. But once I settled
in and realized that I was, in fact, qualified and productive, and had plenty to contribute, the
doubts receded.
In 2007, I experienced several brain bleeds (hemorrhagic strokes) and subsequently
underwent three brain surgery to prevent future bleeds. Though I presented with a couple of
physical disabilities, most of my neuro-deficits were cognitive. My sequential thinking was
damaged (not good for a mathematician), my thought process significantly slowed down, my
short-term memory was compromised, my attention span shortened, and I became easily
distractable.
I recovered to a large degree during my first two years post-strokes. But, to this day, I
contend with residual deficits—recovery from severe brain injury is ongoing. Over my first year
into recovery, as I struggled to recover my cognitive functions, from relearning the multiplication
tables, to working my way through mathematics textbooks. I was terrified that I’d never be able
to call myself a mathematician again. Fortunately, my lifelong stubbornness came to the rescue,
and I persisted. After every failure, I retreated to my bed and cried into my pillow. And once the
tears dried, I went back to work. By the end of that first year, I felt that I was ready to return to
the classroom, or as ready as I could be. I asked to teach the lowest level math courses available
at Carnegie Mellon University—Calculus for Humanities majors. I was too afraid to teach
anything more advanced. I was terrified of exposing the damage to my cognition to my students
and colleagues.
In time, thanks to my brain-injury-related struggles and lessons learned from them, my
teaching skills vastly improved. From a competent+ teacher, I transformed into an excellent
teacher. At first, I didn’t see it, because of my focus on my deficits. But within a couple of years,

feedback from students and colleagues, I finally came to own my improved teaching skills. Yet I
continued to fear teaching more advanced courses. I also refrained from doing any mathematical
research—I was terrified of being found out as less, of being an impostor.
However, now that I’m retired, all my feelings pertaining to my career as a
mathematician have faded to the background. I just don’t think about it.
On the other hand, my writing-related impostor syndrome is an ongoing challenge. After
I returned home from hospital, where I underwent my brain surgeries, I started writing about my
journey through life with my injury. I needed to understand the enormity of what happened to
me.
During my first week back home, even answering emails was hard. But being in survival-
mode, living from difficult moment to the next, operating on fumes, impostor syndrome about
my writing wasn’t on my radar. Especially since anyone who read my journal-type writing,
marveled at my writing skills. But within a couple of years, as I healed, it resurfaced.
My feelings of inadequacy as a writer reached new heights after I decided to turn my
manuscript into a book available to the general public (to raise awareness of the impact of brain
injury).
I realized that my writing wasn’t good enough to publish a book, so I hired a wonderful
writing coach, Judy Fort Brenneman. She was very encouraging, yet very honest—any praise
from her meant a lot. Every time I submitted an essay for publication, I second guessed myself.
Luckily, whenever my impostor syndrome threatened to overwhelm me, Judy talked me out of it.
She’s a superb teacher and an extremely empathetic and sympathetic person. We have since
become close friends.

Though I still worry about my ability and identity as a writer and author, the praise I
receive, helps me. When my confidence is particularly low, I discuss it with Judy, and she
alleviates my anxieties by reassuring me and by suggesting writing prompts exercises that ease
my way back on track. But kind words don’t always do the trick. I am often unable to convince
myself that they are deserved.
I have yet to find a guaranteed remedy for impostor syndrome. However, the combination
of my stubbornness and my optimism, keeps me from giving up, no matter how much my inner
voice berates me. No matter how badly I feel about my abilities, within a short period of time,
my optimism guides me away from those emotions and leads me to persevere. In most cases, I
end up with a series of indisputable triumphs, which finally convince me that I am capable and
even skillful as a writer.
After year in the classroom post-surgeries, my Faculty Course Evaluations were
consistently high, and my inner critic finally accepted that I had become an excellent teacher.
And after I received several awards for my books, I began to realize that I am also a good writer.
Though to this day, I occasionally have my doubts.

Thanks, so before we move on maybe you can share a bit more about yourself?

I am a writer. I write mostly memoir. I have also written about traditional textiles around
the world—a particular interest of mine.

There’s so much that I love about writing, especially when I’m on a roll. Being that
immersed is an amazing feeling. But there’s more.
Writing about textile traditions involves a lot of research, which I loved. Poring over
resources often takes me into interesting directions, often unexpected. I enjoy learning new
things in general, and about textile-related topics in general. I cherish the “aha” moments.
Sometimes those moments arise while figuring out a new textile technique. Other times they
occur when I finally understand a particular tradition or discover an intriguing aspect of
indigenous life. Then putting all the pieces together and producing an effective explanation, is
extremely satisfying.
Though writing memoir is very different, it also brings me joy. I started writing memoir a
few days after I returned from hospital where I underwent three brain surgeries. I wanted, no,
needed, to internalize the enormity of what happened, how it affected my life and me as a person.
Through writing memoir, I learn a lot about myself and my place in the world. It helps
me gain a better perspective on the bigger picture. The “aha” moments feel incredible. Even
when facing challenging aspects of my life and delving into them shakes me to the core, the end
result is satisfying.
The most gratifying part about writing is the evolution of my stories. I start writing a
piece with a particular topic in mind. Often, midway through manuscript, I experience a
revelation—the focus of the story shouldn’t be on that original topic. The story is, in fact,
centered around a different aspect than my initial perception of it. Subsequently, I rework and
rewrite yhe piece accordingly. Such revelations always result in a better story, with more depth.

I was writing an essay about my daughter’s first driving test. It didn’t occur to me that
there was another, mor compelling aspect of the story. It was a humorous piece about an
experience. But later, I realized that the story was about my relationship with my teenage
daughter. I rushed back to my computer and reshaped the essay.
It doesn’t happen whenever I write, but when it does, I come away with a huge smile.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

Curiosity, perseverance, and patience are key for good writing.
Curiosity helps guide you towards new, intriguing, or tricky topics, which, at the very
least, prevents writer’s block. But also enriches your writing.
Perseverance is crucial as well. Only then can you finish your piece that is worthy of an
audience. Perseverance also helps us through challenges.
Patience comes to the rescue as you write. The first draft is never perfect—give yourself
a break. It’s okay, even the best of writers messes up—not everything they write is worth reading
Be patient. Take the time to rework and rewrite. Your final version will only benefit from
it. And sometimes, you need to take a break from writing, whether because it’s a challenging
subject, or because life gets in the way (e.g. illness, family emergencies, or uncooperative
surroundings). Be patient—your writing can wait.

We’ve all got limited resources, time, energy, focus etc – so if you had to choose between going all in on your strengths or working on areas where you aren’t as strong, what would you choose?

I would advise a combination of the two. Certainly, going all out on my strengths is a
good way to start or to get back into writing if you experience a writer’s block or any other long
break in writing.
When I first started writing about traditional textiles (way back in 2003), I chose to write
about Palestinian embroidery. Not only did I love the topic, but I was also confident that I would
have an easy time researching it. After all, I grew up in Israel and was very familiar with it and
owned some glorious samples.
Once I’d dipped my foot in researching traditional textiles, I felt confident delving into
unfamiliar textile techniques.
Beginning with a topic you’re familiar with builds confidence in your writing and eases
you into( or back into) the craft.
Writing my memoir began with focusing on fresh innocuous memories. As I progressed
and tackled tougher memories, I placed a tissue box by my side—I accepted the challenge and
faced my demons. I’ve learnt that when my inner critic tries to convince me to avoid ruminating

over a difficult topic, I do need to challenge myself and confront it full on. Writing about the
difficult stuff helps me understand it and learn from it. Once I’ve completed such a piece, I can
set the tough experience aside and file it under “bogeyman conquered.” I can then discuss it
without having a meltdown. I suppose you could call it therapeutic writing.
I’ve found that the stronger the emotions involved, the better and richer the piece.

Contact Info:

Image Credits

Brendan Wiant took–weaving, 1639, DebGreatWheel
Joyce Miller took–techno1 and 1504

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