D.C. culture may have its faults, but laziness certainly isn’t one of them. We work hard here (and, according to a recent Men’s Health poll, we play hard, too). We work so hard that many organizations and companies, particularly those in D.C., try to recruit new employees by promising a “work-life balance” — something that used to be called simply “time off” or “after 5 p.m.” only a few short years ago. In a culture where maintaining even one career requires an abundance of strategy and electronic gadgets, attempting two seems out of the question.
Not for local writer Sarah Moffett. By day, she’s a lawyer (yes, we know: who isn’t?) for a large firm in Alexandria. At night, however, Moffett transmogrifies into a storyteller — something, she’ll tell you, she comes by honestly, having been raised by parents who immersed her in stories both imagined and experienced. A few years back, Moffett’s natural inclination towards storytelling finally prompted her towards the computer. The result was Growing Up Moffett, a memoir of a traumatic year in the author’s life that found her dealing with profound loss amidst a peripatetic existence, one in which her family’s faith drove many of their decisions and choices. Moffett’s cleverly shaped recollections of this year — at once funny, tragic, poignant, and revealing — bring the entire Moffett clan into relief, where we discover their charming eccentricities, overarching humanity and generosity.
DCist sat down with Sarah Moffett to discuss what went in to writing Growing Up Moffett.
Tell us about the stories within the stories. Your father must have been a tremendous storyteller.
There are actually two stories involved in Growing Up Moffett: first there’s my memoir, and then there’s my father’s story. This is particularly true since the book acts as a repository of sorts for his stories. These stories were passed on to me through my father’s nightly tradition of putting the Moffett clan to bed each night with a story. Some were fantastic fictional creations, and others were stories of his childhood. These tended to involve him and his twin, my Uncle Dave.
