Georgia Chehade is a multi-genre writer who’s called the PNW home since she was nine years old. Her obsessions include walking in the woods and creating mosaics on the beach with her three-year-old son. She is currently querying her debut book, a memoir about motherhood, daughterhood, and the powerful self-reclamation that can occur through grieving. Her new project is a work of historical fiction about a 16th-century midwife who spends her time lucid dreaming when she’s not busy birthing babies and rescuing women from being burned at the stake.
Read my micro-essay “Limits,” published in Beautiful Things
Stay in touch…
I send out my newsletter on the second and fourth Fridays of each month, covering topics as varied as dying galaxies, tree communication, and whale songs. I’ll keep you in the loop about what I am reading, writing, publishing, and offering, in addition to updates on my memoir, which I am actively querying. Each newsletter will contain an essay or poem recommendation connected to a writing prompt.
About the Memoir
When a star goes supernova, it scatters stardust across the galaxy, altering everything it touches and spurring new life. But dead stars can also leave behind a black hole—a place where all known laws of the universe begin to break down. Daughter God: A Cosmology of Motherhood is a literary memoir tracing the convergences of a maternal line in crisis: my mother’s loss of sanity, the loss of my firstborn daughter to full-term stillbirth, and the self-resurrective reconstruction of my own life.
Growing up, I often felt solely responsible for my mother’s happiness. But when I turned twenty-two, my maternal grandmother died, my parents’ marriage dissolved, and my mother’s lifelong spiritual eclecticism warped into a severe, drawn-out mental health crisis. Her existence unfurled into a succession of delusions, con artists, and a quest for a romantic “twin flame” who never materialized. For years, I tried to manipulate her into getting help—until my own life cracked open with the stillbirth of my firstborn daughter. I emerged from the wreckage with a fierce desire to untangle myself from generational legacies of depression and longing. Rebuilding a life worthy of my love for my child, I realized, would mean doing the hardest thing of all: letting my mother go.
I am actively querying this project.