My Process:
Gathering the Stories
I’ve been hanging out with homeless and newly housed people for about ten years. I wanted to understand who they are, what their lives and culture are. I’ve learned a lot.
I have moved in time from being a middle-aged white woman to a senior citizen. I’m not exactly sure why people talk to me. Perhaps my visible identity makes me nonthreatening, or it could be that, through our interactions, we manage to open up a space between us where we can meet simply as two people. I genuinely enjoy the company of many of the people I meet. Granted, there are also those who either don’t want to chat with some old white lady, or who are in the throes of a mental health crisis. I do my best to find a graceful way to leave them alone.
Mostly, I meet them at St. Ben’s, a place where they can get a meal, showers, help with connecting to social services or getting their identity documents, and in the winter, some shelter for the night. I see my acquaintances on the streets, hanging out in the library or outside on the steps, and some of them show up at my church. Sometimes I wander into an encampment if I feel it’s safe enough.
St. Anthony’s was an apartment building established through Housing First to provide homes for chronically homeless people. When the building opened, I spent a lot of time with the residents, and became good friends with several of them. The St. Anthony’s building has closed, a story unto itself.
These stories I write are not about me, but I am the narrator, and my internals tell part of the story. These are not “feel good” stories with happy endings. You won’t read anything here about how I fixed a situation, or did anything glorious. They’re meant to highlight the individuals I meet, to show who the human behind the stereotype can be. I might meet the person only once, or many times.
I never ask anyone how they ended up on the streets. That’s not the point, and none of my business. I start where the person is now, and if they decide to share their history, I’ll listen. Suffice it to say there are many ways a person becomes homeless, often for compounded reasons.
It all boils down to this: I’m one person who will simply look them in the eyes and spend some time getting to know them. I just listen for the story that I can tell.
Here's what people are saying about HomelessMKE:
“I like your short stories. Keep it up and I wish you many years of writing them.” (A friend I call Samuel in the stories)
"I thought there wasn't anything that interesting about me." (A friend I call Lamar in the stories)
"Jonnie Guernsey's stories describe the lives of people struggling on the margins of society. A friend and confidant, Jennie lets people speak in their own authentic voices of struggles, defeats, and triumphs, allowing them to come alive in all their quirky humanity.
~James Iverson, author with Jill Iverson, Exploring America's Great Loop
"Jonnie Guernsey writes about the desperately poor, the homeless, the unseen. Her brilliant stories bring them to life for us in ways that humanize them and us."
~Renee James, author Coming Out Can Be Murder, 2012 Chicago Writers Association Indie Book of the Year
I have moved in time from being a middle-aged white woman to a senior citizen. I’m not exactly sure why people talk to me. Perhaps my visible identity makes me nonthreatening, or it could be that, through our interactions, we manage to open up a space between us where we can meet simply as two people. I genuinely enjoy the company of many of the people I meet. Granted, there are also those who either don’t want to chat with some old white lady, or who are in the throes of a mental health crisis. I do my best to find a graceful way to leave them alone.
Mostly, I meet them at St. Ben’s, a place where they can get a meal, showers, help with connecting to social services or getting their identity documents, and in the winter, some shelter for the night. I see my acquaintances on the streets, hanging out in the library or outside on the steps, and some of them show up at my church. Sometimes I wander into an encampment if I feel it’s safe enough.
St. Anthony’s was an apartment building established through Housing First to provide homes for chronically homeless people. When the building opened, I spent a lot of time with the residents, and became good friends with several of them. The St. Anthony’s building has closed, a story unto itself.
These stories I write are not about me, but I am the narrator, and my internals tell part of the story. These are not “feel good” stories with happy endings. You won’t read anything here about how I fixed a situation, or did anything glorious. They’re meant to highlight the individuals I meet, to show who the human behind the stereotype can be. I might meet the person only once, or many times.
I never ask anyone how they ended up on the streets. That’s not the point, and none of my business. I start where the person is now, and if they decide to share their history, I’ll listen. Suffice it to say there are many ways a person becomes homeless, often for compounded reasons.
It all boils down to this: I’m one person who will simply look them in the eyes and spend some time getting to know them. I just listen for the story that I can tell.
Here's what people are saying about HomelessMKE:
“I like your short stories. Keep it up and I wish you many years of writing them.” (A friend I call Samuel in the stories)
"I thought there wasn't anything that interesting about me." (A friend I call Lamar in the stories)
"Jonnie Guernsey's stories describe the lives of people struggling on the margins of society. A friend and confidant, Jennie lets people speak in their own authentic voices of struggles, defeats, and triumphs, allowing them to come alive in all their quirky humanity.
~James Iverson, author with Jill Iverson, Exploring America's Great Loop
"Jonnie Guernsey writes about the desperately poor, the homeless, the unseen. Her brilliant stories bring them to life for us in ways that humanize them and us."
~Renee James, author Coming Out Can Be Murder, 2012 Chicago Writers Association Indie Book of the Year