This post is one of 26 I am writing for the A-Z Challenge on the subject of writing a memoir. I’m not an expert in writing memoirs, but I’m exploring the topic with thoughts about writing one, and am happy to share the fruits of my exploration.
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I’ve already made one whole attempt at writing a memoir and a start at another. Each time I brought another chapter, another set of scenes, to my writing group, they said, “But how did you feel?” And I was stumped. Because when these things were going on, I didn’t have any great thoughts. Generally, I felt sad but was sure I deserved what others did to me, that I was somehow to blame for it all. But each scene? They were just things I thought I had to suffer in silence. I didn’t really know what my feelings were.
This is probably the main factor that’s holding me back from trying again. How do I write about feelings that weren’t apparent to me at the time? How can I keep the reader’s attention without feelings?
Sorry, I don’t have any answers today. Maybe you do….
As always, or even more so, I’m looking forward to reading your comments. But please remember the comments button is at the top. If you comment on the wrong post, I have to go through a long procedure to move the comment, and I’d rather not. Thank you.
This post is one of 26 I am writing for the A-Z Challenge on the subject of writing a memoir. I’m not an expert in writing memoirs, but I’m exploring the topic with thoughts about writing one, and am happy to share the fruits of my exploration.
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How do you create empathy in your memoir? You certainly need it if you’re going to carry the reader along with you. It’s not by making yourself into a victim – not now, anyway. Readers can empathise with a child who has been a victim, but not with the adult who has remained a victim. By the end of the book, they want to see signs of positive change, however many setbacks there have been along the way.
How do you create empathy in the childhood scenes? By bringing them alive. Include conversation, little details, sounds, smells and, above all, feelings. Now you know what the next post is about.
This post is one of 26 I am writing for the A-Z Challenge on the subject of writing a memoir. I’m not an expert in writing memoirs, but I’m exploring the topic with thoughts about writing one, and am happy to share the fruits of my exploration.
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There are two (or more) I’s involved in a memoir: the I that’s writing the memoir and the I that takes part in every scene in the memoir. It’s important to keep the two separate. You are not the same person you were when the scenes you are describing took place.
Detachment is what enables you to laugh at your former self and to understand truths that were not clear at the time. We’ll be coming back to these traits in future posts.
Detachment is what enables you to recreate yourself. I’ll leave you with a quote by Orson Scott Card:
You know how writers are… they create themselves as they create their work. Or perhaps they create their work in order to create themselves.
This post is one of 26 I am writing for the A-Z Challenge on the subject of writing a memoir. I’m not an expert in writing memoirs, but I’m exploring the topic with thoughts about writing one, and am happy to share the fruits of my exploration.
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How do we get from starting to write to a ready-to-publish memoir? Many qualities make up the craft of memoir writing:
Memory
Detachment
Insight into the past
Story-telling
Humour
Ability to draw the reader in
Order
Logic
Understanding
Perseverance
I’ll be discussing these in future posts. Can you think of any to add?
This post is one of 26 I am writing for the A-Z Challenge on the subject of writing a memoir. I’m not an expert in writing memoirs, but I’m exploring the topic with thoughts about writing one, and am happy to share the fruits of my exploration.
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Where do I begin? Every beginning is hard to write, whether it’s the beginning of a fictional story, an essay or a memoir. The beginning has to draw the reader in, to make the reader want to finish the page, the chapter, the book.
But the good thing is: the beginning doesn’t have to be written at the beginning. You can write it in the middle, at the end or whenever you like. It’s often easier to write it at the end when you know what it has to introduce.
This post is one of 26 I am writing for the A-Z Challenge on the subject of writing a memoir. I’m not an expert in writing memoirs, but I’m exploring the topic with thoughts about writing one, and am happy to share the fruits of my exploration.
And today a special “THANK YOU” to Arlee Bird who started this challenge.
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One of my first memories is of Daphne Oxenford saying, “Are you sitting comfortably? Then we’ll begin.” These words, spoken at a quarter to two every day, always meant that I was about to hear another story on the radio programme, Listen With Mother.
To this day, if I happen to notice that it’s a quarter to two, I hum the signature tune of Listen With Mother, either to myself or out loud. My husband joins in.
This seems a good way to begin my series of A-Z posts about writing a memoir. What does my memory mean to you, my readers? Well, if you’re from the UK and old enough to remember Listen With Mother, you might feel as nostalgic as I do.
What if you’re not? Why would you be interested to hear about that piece of information?
The answer is, you probably wouldn’t be interested, as it stands. But what if I told you about the only story I remember out of all those I heard every day at a quarter to two? The story was about a dog who rushed home for his meal and burnt his tongue on the hot food, but then remembered being told to start at the edge because food at the edge is cooler. I remembered the story all these years because it taught me something.
“Okay, but that’s not so interesting to me,” you might say.
What if I told you my mother used to say, “Now you’ve listened to your programme, you must keep quiet and let me listen to mine.” And I tried to keep quiet for the whole hour of Woman’s Hour because I had listened to my fifteen minute-long programme. Only at that time I didn’t realise my mother’s statement wasn’t as fair as it sounded, because I didn’t have a good idea of time.
“That could be interesting,” you might say. “But only if it has some bearing on the theme of your memoir, or one of its topics.”
“How would that work out in practice?” I might ask.
“Well, say you wanted to show that your mother used to tell you things that weren’t really true for various reasons. Then you would give several examples of times when she did that.”
“Like telling me that they moved house just so that I could go to the school I was at?”
“Exactly.”
“That backfired big time.”
“Then write about it in your memoir.”
I will. And I’ll be returning to the topic of theme in other posts.
How about you? What are your first memories? Why would your readers want to know about them?
Miriam Drori, Author 