12 Questions for a Writer: Ron Jansen

Ron Jansen unravels his combat experience with the past that shaped the Marine he is and the reflections of the man he came to be. Jill covered this one and recommends to all- especially civilians.

1. Who are you, and what have you written?

My name is Ron Jansen. I'm a husband, father of four, and I work in the corporate world. Our family has two cats, two dogs, and six chickens, but the chicken number fluctuates from year to year due to a long-running raccoon-chicken war. I grew up in West Michigan and still live there while sneaking away to the outdoors every chance I get.

My book is called An Otherwise Healthy Person: A Marine's Story of Going to Fallujah and Fighting to Come Home. It covers my time as a Marine reservist in Iraq from 2006-2007. In the first two-thirds of the book, I write about my time as a squad leader in combat, and in the last part, I detail some of my struggles and experiences since returning.

2. What drew you to writing? Why write this book?

Until four years ago, I had never written anything except under duress from a teacher or professor. However, once I started writing, I found that I really enjoyed it. I actually had to limit the amount of time I spent on it every day because it all just started coming out of me, almost like a stream of consciousness. Looking back, I see there were a lot of experiences clanking around in my head, and writing allowed me to understand them better and see them through a different lens. My goal wasn't really to help others understand my experience, it was solely to understand it myself.

3. The book feels like snapshots of your deployment and glimpses into your life in and outside of the military. You seamlessly wove comparisons throughout your story. As a civilian, your experiences at home felt somewhat familiar and provided a bridge to trying to understand the moments you shared of deployment. Did you feel these comparisons while deployed, or was this something that came to you only when you began writing this book?

I've found that combat veterans tend to compartmentalize our combat experiences and keep them completely separate from our everyday lives. It's a natural response to keep the chaos and traumatic experiences from creeping into everything else. Over time, that compartmentalization kept me from accessing any of the experiences, whether good or bad.

Comparisons between my military and civilian experiences were a way of me trying to integrate them into a more cohesive story. The specific details of a situation might be very different but I'm usually very aware of how I feel and how it might compare to how I've felt in the past. I can't fully describe it, but I know it is similar. Maybe that's why I love exploring new places so much, because I'm constantly comparing them to places I've already been.

4. How did you choose what memories to share and which to keep for yourself?

I tried to write about the things that I remembered best, which was a rough proxy for events that were most impactful to me. I wanted to write about some memories, but they just didn't flow into anything useful, and I'm not a good enough writer to make something out of nothing. Others just popped into my head randomly and ended up as full chapters.

5. Your words paint a picture that is so vivid. Was it difficult to recall moments, or did they play like a movie reel in your head? Did you keep a journal?

Many of the memories were very vivid, especially when I first started writing. It felt like the memories were joined by an unseen thread that connected things in ways I did not understand. Remembering some events then led to other memories that I hadn't thought of in years. Sometimes the movie in my head started playing and I had to type as fast as I could to keep up with it. I've come to understand this is how memory works - in networks of similar thoughts, feelings, sensations, and images. It didn't make sense to me in the initial writing process, but I understand it differently now.

I kept a journal sporadically while I was overseas so that helped me recall some events as well. I also triggered memories by looking at pictures. Each digital photo has a time and date stamp on it, so I was able to recreate specific scenes by seeing exactly what happened at that point in time.

6. What did you learn in the process of writing this book, and what surprised you?

I was surprised at how my perception of events changed once I had them on paper or on a screen. The details didn't change, but my experience of them did. There were times when I was typing and thought, "Holy shit! I can't believe that happened!" and other times when I had a completely new perspective as I wrote something out. This was part of creating a cohesive and integrated narrative of my story that furthered me on my personal journey.

7. Would you do it again?

I'm not sure if you are asking about whether I would choose to deploy to Iraq again or to write about it again. Either way, the answer to both questions is yes.

8. Your continued war at home resonated with me; much of your story resonated with me - someone who has never experienced combat. You talk about a vision you had; in this vision, you carried a log. The vision was beautifully written, and I want others to have the experience in full context, but I want to comment on "The log became the foundation of a new way of living and seeing the world: A way of living that allowed me to see my own brokenness and the brokenness of others. I could connect to others in a new way." I sat with those words for a while. Your writing style is why I think I could connect so well while never having close to the experiences you have. What has been the reaction to your book? Have you had people from all walks of life relate?

First, thank you. That feedback means a lot. To answer your question, I've been surprised at how people from various backgrounds have connected with the book. Sometimes we veterans tend to think our experiences are unique to us and that others won't understand. However, the major elements of the veteran's experience: duty, love, trauma, betrayal, loss, courage, fear, and healing are universal to the human experience. We do ourselves a disservice by focusing on what sets us apart from others rather than focusing on the common elements that we all share.

I've really appreciated hearing from veterans and civilians about what they connected with. Every person who reads a book is reading it through the lens of their experiences and beliefs and has different takeaways.

9. You mentioned, "Many stories could not be shared outside the group of Marines who experienced them." I've heard this a lot. Why do you think this is? I recently took a class on death and dying. Friends and family really didn't want to hear about what I was learning, even when I preached I wish I had taken this class much earlier in life. Do you think it's our aversion to death, the unknown, and the uncomfortable? What has been your experience with these types of stories now that you have published your book? Are you more prone to share, and are people more keen to listen?

I think we have a universal discomfort with death and the unknown. One thing I recognized is that part of the reason that the death of others impacts us so much is not just the grief of loss but the reminder that we are all mortal. It's part of the reason people who experience so much of it find ways to joke about it to make it manageable. It's a heavy subject and one that humans don't really know how to handle.

10. Looking back on your book, was there anything you wished you had included but didn't or couldn't at the time?

I wish I had shared more about the guys in my squad and my platoon. Writing a memoir unintentionally makes you into the hero of your own story, and if anyone is considered a hero, I want them to be.

I also recently remembered a really funny thing that happened when a rabid cow got loose during a patrol. One of the guys in my squad who was called Potato was pointing his M240G machine gun at the cow standing between him and me and had his finger on the trigger. I guess I'll have to add that in the next edition.

11. Is there anyone who influenced your writing? Another creative - author, artist, musician, or a mentor, family member, fellow Marine?

The two writers I admire most are Mark Twain and Ernest Hemingway. I'd love to say that they influenced my writing, but it's a stretch to say that you would know it by reading anything I write.

I was very fortunate to have a few friends, Brent Becker and David Hoffman, who gave me real-time feedback on what I was writing, one chapter at a time. Both of them are better writers than I am and helped me understand the heart of what I was trying to communicate.

12. "I've heard it said before that shame isolates, but I also believe that isolation shames." This hit hard. It's relatively easy to stay comfortably uncomfortable in the familiar feeling of isolation. It might not feel great, but as you said, "When I'm losing the war, I believe I'm alone and I operate as if it is true. I live a coward's life." Do you have any advice for people struggling with isolation, shame, and/or losing sight of their identity?

My friend Matt is a licensed counselor, so I try to listen to him at least some of the time. He often says that the antidote to shame is vulnerability and community. To paraphrase, to deal with our shame we need to seek out community and find places where we can be honest and real with one another. It can be terrifying—for me, it was harder than going into combat—but when we show parts of ourselves to others and they don't run away or tell us we're f'ed up then the shame loses its grip.

It can be hard because we've all probably had experiences where we shared vulnerably and it quickly turned to disaster, so it takes a lot of courage to keep reaching out. Our experiences in the military could have deepened some major shame messages because we're taught to hide our vulnerabilities and stamp out vulnerabilities in others so no one is a liability. That might be the right thing to do when preparing for or engaged in warfare, but once the fighting is done, it's the opposite of what we all need. My life's mission today is to help provide those spaces where people can set aside their shame and discover their true identity, which is much deeper than the uniform they wore or the things they've accomplished. I think that's where healing and growth begins.

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You can buy An Otherwise Healthy Person: A Marine's Story of Going to Fallujah and Fighting to Come Home here.