The Push That Turned My Stories into a Book
By Elena S. Smith
Today, in 2026, when someone hears my accent and asks where I’m from, I hesitate. I lower my eyes, give a small smile, and say, “I was born and raised in St. Petersburg, Russia.” I hear the words and feel a pinch of embarrassment. I don’t always want to explain the Russia I knew—my Russia—because it feels so different from the Russia people picture today.
But things were very different in 1993. That was the year I moved, by a rather unlikely twist of fate, from St. Petersburg to a small college town with a surprising name: Moscow… Moscow, Idaho.
Back then, when new friends asked how on earth I ended up trading the grandeur of palaces and canals for wheat fields and rolling hills, I was delighted to tell them. I shared the stories of my improbable journey across the ocean to the American Northwest—the culture shocks, the winter storms, the discoveries both comic and heartbreaking. Often my listeners would lean in with curiosity, laugh at the funny bits, and then say the words that seemed, to me, completely absurd: “Oh wow! How interesting! You should write a book!” A book? Me? I usually laughed it off. Surely, they were joking. After all, who in their right mind would ask a young Russian woman—still thinking in Russian and translating on the fly—to write an entire book in her second language?
Yes, I had a degree in English. But having an English degree in Russia is a bit like owning a good pair of running shoes; it doesn’t automatically mean you’re ready to run a marathon. Writing a whole book in English felt more like trying to run an ultra-marathon uphill. So, I smiled politely, shook my head, and went on with my new life.
Life in Idaho was both ordinary and extraordinary. I learned to navigate grocery stores without getting lost between the cereal boxes. I figured out that a smile was expected when you passed strangers on the street. I adjusted to the strange concept of “self-serve” gas stations and the equally strange idea of Halloween, where even grown-ups are dressed as pirates or pumpkins.
Two years later, I finally landed a position as an ESL instructor at the University of Idaho. It was a good job, but I had no idea it would lead to the next chapter—literally—of my story.
At a cultural event on campus, I met a professor from Washington State University. We struck up a conversation, and soon I found myself, as usual, telling the story of how I’d come to Idaho. But this time, something was different. She didn’t just nod politely and say, “You should write a book.” She looked me straight in the eye and said, with unmistakable seriousness: “You really need to write these stories down. And when you do, email them to me.” Her words felt less like a suggestion and more like a command:kind, but firm.
Weeks went by. I told myself I was too busy, too tired, too uninspired. Still, her insistence lingered in the back of my mind. Then, one rainy October day, with the clouds hanging low over the Palouse hills, I finally gave in. I sat at my small desk, opened a blank document, and began typing. Words poured out—memories were my inspiration. When I finished, I had something that felt substantial enough to call Chapter One. I took a deep breath, attached the file to an email, and hit “send.” An hour later, her reply pinged into my inbox: “It’s fabulous! Love it. Do you have Chapter Two? Send me everything you have.” Her enthusiasm startled me. I didn’t have a Chapter Two. I barely had Chapter One! But her words lit a small, bright flame inside me—the kind of encouragement that makes you believe in possibilities you hadn’t dared to imagine.
That email was the spark that began a ten-year writing journey. Over the next decade, I shaped and reshaped the stories of my life’s “Big Change”—the move that altered everything. I wrote in airports and coffee shops, in quiet moments after classes, sometimes with joy and sometimes with frustration. I deleted whole sections, rewrote paragraphs until they sounded right in English and still felt true to my Russian soul.
At last, in 2006, I held in my hands the finished book: Why Birches Are White—245 pages of my journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow, Idaho, and all the laughter, confusion, and transformation along the way.
Most of us have life stories to tell, but they remain to be just our memories until it takes one special person who will push us in the right direction, and a book will be born.
Elena S. Smith, born in St. Petersburg, Russia, holds a BA in pedagogy, an MA in English grammar, and a PhD in English linguistics. After immigrating to the United States in 1993, she proudly became an American citizen. Dr. Smith has spent over three decades teaching English, literature, culture, and film at universities in Russia, China, Japan, and the United States, always inspired by her students. She has published widely on lexicology, academic writing, and teaching methodology and has presented her research internationally. She has two novels and a collection of short stories for children published by BookBaby. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, golfing, traveling, and having fun with her family, friends, and beloved dogs.