The Things I Never Said

Finding this card tucked away in a box felt like receiving a love letter from “the other side.” I’ve kept it in the box for so long without reading the message that I’d forgotten its origin, and even the fact it was used. A couple of days ago I opened it, thinking maybe I’d send to someone, and discovered anew that it is a birthday card from my long-gone mother, sent in 1985. It is full of questions about how things were going for me on various projects I’d long since forgotten, and the reminder of her level of interest in my life was touching. Since we lived in the same town during the years I was raising children, I never had letters from her as evidence of this.

But the most amazing thing was the message on the cover. “The things I never said...” I was flabbergasted that I’d never noticed or “got” that message before, that she was aware there were some “things she never said” and maybe this was her way of saying them. I did not grow up in a family that openly expressed caring, concern, and support. I don’t recall ever hearing the words, “I love you” from my parents. I don’t feel deprived for that — I knew I was loved and cared for. We just didn’t talk about it. So, now I find this message about those words that were never said ... I think they are still waiting somewhere, and I think I just realized what they are. Perhaps that card finally said the things for her.

Perhaps the card is most poignant because of its ambiguity. I have no way of knowing what was on her mind when she selected it. Shucks, if I found the card on the rack at the store today, I may think of all the stories I have not yet gotten around to writing, and that if I wrote non-stop for the rest of my life, I’d never be able to cover even half of what I’ve already experienced and thought. Or that conversations always branch and there are always “roads not taken.”

That’s pretty much how I understood it at the time. Just as I always have at least half a dozen writing projects underway, she always had stacks and piles of paintings, glass, sewing and other arts and crafts projects underway, so she could also have meant it that way.

But she sent that card a generation ago when she was about the age I am now. Perhaps she was a generation ahead of me in understanding and understood it then as I do now. Perhaps I have caught up?

The card will remain an enigma, but I’m going to hang onto my fresh view of it, because it is so satisfying and enriching.

Meanwhile, it can also serve as a reminder that because readers bring their own experience and needs to the page, even the most carefully crafted story will be understood differently by each one, and perhaps understood quite differently from what we had in mind as we wrote. And that story may be understood one way today and quite differently a generation from now. Our job is to write the words, the stories, the “things,” then release them to serve whatever purpose they will.

Who knows? Perhaps a card, letter or story you’ve already written is tucked away somewhere, waiting for a time many years hence when it will be rediscovered and mean way more than it did at the time. Maybe more than you realized you meant at the time.

Write now: about some of the things you never said that are waiting somewhere. Pu them in a letter and mail them, or write them in a journal. Or write them down and shred or burn them. But write them down.

It Really Is All About You

It’s easy to forget that a lifestory or memoir really is all about you. “I didn’t want to say too much about that, because I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging,” is a common response to the urging to the question “Why didn’t you say more about that?”

Most of us learned early that bragging was to be avoided, and those who were fortunate enough to achieve unusual success in life or receive rich blessings often hesitate to elaborate on them in lifestories. The inverse is just as true: nobody wants to sound like a whiner! And yet, to give nothing but fleeting mention of triumph or tragedy is a form of insincerity and leaves readers wondering what the real story was.

It boils down to a matter of telling rather than showing. The problem arises when you are “reporting” on your life, focusing on facts to the general exclusion of feelings and insights. The solution is to put more of yourself in the story. Tell your readers what you thought and felt at the time. What did this event mean to you? Why was it important? How did it affect your life?

I’m reminded of an occasion my senior year in college when a friend I’d met in a small, intimate psychology class received notice that she had not only been admitted to Columbia for grad school, but had received a full fellowship. I happened to call her within minutes after she received the letter, and she couldn’t contain her joy. I was genuinely thrilled for her, but when she missed the next class meeting, I decided to keep silent, to allow her the added joy of seeing their faces light up with delight as they heard.

When she did see the class and realized they didn’t know, she turned to me. “Didn’t you tell them?” she asked. “No. I wanted to let you tell them yourself,” I replied. She looked crestfallen and her report had an edge of disappointment.

This is a great example of how things not said may loom larger than what is, resulting in misunderstanding. I personally valued the joy of sharing my own good news and in that close-knit group didn’t think of it as bragging. How would I know that she didn’t see it the same way? I also sensed that she thought my reticence was due to jealousy on my part — further proof of the danger of bragging. In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth. Sure, we would all have liked to have been in her shoes, but that didn’t diminish the joy I felt for her.

Circling back to writing, the same potential for confusion exists for unwritten details. If you just report that you won the Pulitzer Prize and move on to something else in the next sentence, I’m going to feel shortchanged, and maybe a little angry when I read that. I may feel like you didn’t trust me, the reader, to understand.

If you elaborate with something like, “When I hung up the phone, I could hardly breathe. I sat there with tears streaming down my face as I realized that all those weeks, months, and years of pounding away on my Underwood had finally paid off. The ultimate critics had bestowed the ultimate honor. As contradictory as it sounds, I was overwhelmed by a mixture of humility and tumultuous joy. I simultaneously sank with grief that my mother had not lived long enough to share this joy and felt my spirit rise like a hot air balloon, soaring through the sunny sky. I wanted to run and shout, stop strangers on the street. I wanted to crash down the solid walnut door and storm unannounced into the Publisher's office. Instead, I took a deep breath and strolled into the press room with wicked anticipation and glee.”

Just remember, whether triumph or tragedy, if readers think it is a big deal, they are not going to believe you if you say it wasn’t. Let us know how it was a big deal to you, or if it really wasn’t tell why not.

You don’t likely have anything as dramatic as a Pulitzer to report, but small things that brought elation or devastation matter too. Don’t hesitate to “brag.” Just be sure to package it in context and let us feel your response. Remember, this is your story, and it really is all about you!

Write now: a few paragraphs about a great victory or joy and/or devastating event. Recreate the whole scene as you heard, and and describe what you thought and felt and how you reacted.

Inner Critic — Guide, Guard, or Enabler?

You will never, ever, in a million years be that creative and write that well!

With nuclear force, Gretchen (my Inner Critic) burst onto the scene shouting these words and a stream of related ones as I began reading Three Bites, a 675 word life story by Leslie F. Miller, found on the most excellent Brevity28 website. Leslie’s imaginative description totally blew me away and seemingly raised the bar out of reach. I knew what was happening; still, I was stunned by Gretchen’s outburst. What was this all about?

Two days later, still reeling from that attack's aftershocks, I journaled about it, using the technique I’ve evolved of posing questions — to myself or whatever source of inspiration may be floating around — and then just writing without further thought. I’ve found many powerful answers that way.

The answer that morning seemed ambiguous. It didn't address Gretchen's outburst at all. Within a sentence or two, my words turned to the day my hubby and I set out to climb Cathedral Rock near Sedona. We both wanted the heady experience of scaling the sheer slopes. He wanted to take pictures. I was curious about the vortex energy Native Americans and mystics associate with the site. I wanted to experience it myself — or not.

The first half of the trail wound gradually up and around the base. Then we had to scramble up a fairly steep rocky area. Did I really want to do this? Was it worth it? “Come on. This is nothing. Keep moving!” Hubby urged. I kept going. Sure enough, in minutes we were on the next level and moving along a fairly level path.

Finally we came to the last ascent, and it seemed to go straight up to heaven, figuratively if not literally. Well, maybe only maybe a couple of hundred feet, but still ... In truth, my fear was not about climbing up. I knew I could make it up with no problem. Getting down again was another matter. Heights make me queasy, and I’m more aware of them going down.

“I don’t think it’s worth it. I don’t need to go clear to the top. This is good enough,” I whined. “You go on up if you want, I’ll poke around down here.”

“You’ll always regret it and hate yourself if you quit. Come on.” His voice was gentle, encouraging, and I knew he was right. I would hate myself later if I wimped out. Up I went.

The view from the top was spectacular, and he got some great photos. I sat for about half an hour gazing out, and I wish I could say I was transported somehow, but if the energy is there, my receiver was not tuned into that frequency. All too soon we headed down again, hoping to also make it up Bell Rock several miles away. The slopes I’d feared descending turned out to be no big deal, and the exhilaration I felt from having overcome my reluctance surely equaled anything The Force could have offered.

Recalling this adventure reminded me that Gretchen could be doing any of several things. She could be posting trail markers to help my stay on the path that makes the best use of my talents. She could be guarding me from danger. Or, she could be giving me the excuse I need to wimp out and avoid the challenge and exhilaration of scaling new heights of achievement.

In the final analysis, I decided that this time Gretchen was functioning as an enabler for my Inner Wimp. Guides and Guards give reasons.
Enablers use fear and intimidation. I won’t be deterred by stories that seem to eclipse my humble efforts. I shall continue to approach reading as a source of inspiration and use it as a springboard for expanding my vision rather than lapsing into meaningless comparisons. And I’ll keep writing, revising, and writing some more, honing my skills with practice.

Regardless of the whines of my Inner Wimp, I’ll take the next steps, writing and revising, slowly scaling my way to that peak, strengthening my writing muscles in the process. Climbing that rock is a robust metaphor for writing. I’d hate myself if I quit trying to improve. My work will never sound like Leslie Miller's because I’m not Leslie Miller. But I can do a fine job of telling my stories my way, and what more could anyone hope for?

Afterward: Perhaps the joke was on me. I recently learned that the Cathedral Rock vortex is not at the top of the rock as I thought, but down at the bottom, across Oak Creek, nearly a mile away. We actually did hike there another day, passing the site without realizing it. But I’m still glad I climbed the rock, and now I know that the most powerful results may not come from the most strenuous effort.

Write now: have a freewriting conversation in your journal or on scrap paper with your Inner Critic about (her?) motivations. Explore previous times, perhaps unrelated to writing, when you have overcome your fears and consider how that relates to your writing. Did you have coach or cheerleader urging you on? Where can you find that sort of support for your writing?

I Had a Dream

I had a dream — and so did you. Whether we remember them or not, dreams are an integral part of normal sleep. Dreams have rich potential for lifewriters and memoirists, but this resource is seldom tapped. In fact, this resource is seldom even remembered. But considering that the average person spends about two hours a night dreaming (that adds up to something like six years total over an average lifespan), our dream life is definitely worth further exploration for the insight it can provide. and including dream content in stories can add poignancy to our writing.

If you write about your dreams at all (sleeping or otherwise), your probably do it in a journal. Journal therapists frequently urge people to keep a special journal by their bedside to record dreams as soon as they wake. With practice and firm intention, it becomes easier to remember dreams and record the key components. Since ancient times people have been curious about what their dreams meant. Information on dream interpretation abounds in print and on the Internet, but in the final analysis, it’s your dream, and it’s your analysis that counts.

I find that journaling about a dream usually leads into writing further thoughts on the dream topic, and a page or two of this kind of freewriting often clears up ambiguities in my thinking about all sorts of things. I’m not an avid dream journaler, but I have begun to remember and record them more often and definitely recommend the process

While dream journals are not uncommon, few people take advantage of the depth and richness dreams can add to stories. Linda Joy Myers, president of NAMW (the National Association of Memoir Writers) begins her memoir, Don’t Call Me Mother, with a dream about riding on a train. That dream is a powerful image and draws readers into the story like a magnet. Linda Joy references that dream often as she develops the story, using it as a sort of metaphor for her relationship with her mother and a cornerstone of her story.

A conference speaker I heard awhile back (I wish I remembered who she was so I could give her credit), had a fascinating observation about dreams: nobody can argue with the truth of a dream because they aren’t “real” to begin with. So, she advised us, “If you have some difficult truth to tell, consider using a dream to tell it.” An audible gasp went up from the room at the thought that she was recommending fabricating dreams! Some were horrified; others were stunned at the cleverness of this solution.

Since there is no scientifically definitive explanation of what a dream is or the purpose it serves, dreams can legitimately be whatever we want or need them to be. For example, day dreams are dreams. We have hopes and dreams. So if we dream of a certain circumstance, whatever the time we envision, is that any less real as a dream? If I had any doubts before, they were resolved that day. You can always use some disclaimer like, “Did I dream that?” Or, “As I awoke, I recalled a dream about riding the train ... ." As I thought about the dream, I realized that (this certain circumstance) was a lot like that...” Or perhaps some unfolding event “took on the surreal quality of a dream...”

At the bottom line, dreams are the ideal solution for ducking disputes about the accuracy of imagination and expressing the way you wish things had been. Given the amount of time you spend having them, don’t you think your dreams deserve more attention and space in your writing?

Write now: start a dream journal or log. It doesn’t have to be fancy — a small spiral notebook, or even loose sheets of paper kept in a folder, and use a dream as the basis of a story or story segment.

I Refuse to Accept Limits!

“WOO HOO! I DID IT!” Even though I was home alone when the last piece of my "impossible" puzzle clicked into place, I sprang from my chair and dashed wildly around the circuit of kitchen, dining room and living room a couple of times in a wild victory lap, waving my hands and yelling. Although I wasn’t sure my aging spine would take it well, I jumped for joy. Oh, sweet, sweet success. YES! YES!

My success was discovering a way to create flawless PDF (Adobe reader format) files for digital scrapbooks made from software you already have or can get for free. There are some pricey programs out there to help you lay out scrapbooks onscreen, but as far as I’m aware, they are all geared toward selling print services that will convert any cash in your estate into a legacy of glossy pages encased in premium bindings. I’m talking about eBooks that can be viewed on a computer and require an investment of nothing more than your time and maybe a blank disk.

The puzzle sprang from a discovery that any object with slight transparency acquired a nasty set of grid lines when converted to PDF format. By a convenient quirk of fate, I made this discovery as a cold and sore throat set in. Not feeling up to doing much else, I camped in my recliner with my laptop and delved into the matter.

For over two days, I Googled, I downloaded and test drove fifteen free or low-cost PDF writer programs. I put together a comparison chart to keep track of the results. Ultimately I discovered that not even the gold standard Adobe Acrobat was up to this challenge. I despaired. I almost gave up. But I was cornered. I’ve committed to demonstrating this magic at the Digital Imagers meeting on January 4, and cringed at the thought of having to back off in any respect.

I REFUSE TO ACCEPT LIMITS!

There had to be a way, and I determined to find it! I joined a couple of user forums to ask for advice. While I waited, I decided to try the built-in PDF function in OpenOffice. I’d been using Word, because most people use Word, and I wanted to share the results of my discoveries. Well! OO does a stellar job. The problem lies not in the PDF programs, it lies in Microsoft’s software structure.

But my search was not over. OpenOffice was not perfect. On pages where I had a stack of objects (think of glass over a mat over a picture that’s mounted on floral background paper inside the mat) the bottom layer did not show in the PDF version if it had a patterned fill. Solid colors were fine. That ribbon at the end of the course was so close, but still out of reach! At that point both PrimoPDF and BullzipPDF, the two freeware programs that otherwise passed my testing, worked perfectly. My problem was solved. I burst through that ribbon and into song.

But the good news doesn’t end there. Later in the day I downloaded and installed the brand new OpenOffice version 3.0. Oh, my, Santa came early. I’m dazzled. It’s so hard to believe that such a polished software package is just sitting there for the taking. It has so many splendid new features, it’s hard to tear myself away to do real writing. And ... icing on the cake ... the upgraded PDF writer now catches all the layers.

Lest this all sound like nothing but crowing, bragging and crowing are good for the soul, in the right time and place, and this crowing ultimately relates back to life writing. It’s more about the packaging than the writing, but it does all fit together.

Write now: a story about some huge personal accomplishment that set your inner world on fire. It only has to matter to you, not be something anyone "out there" would even notice. And help Santa out by giving yourself the gift of a stunning new Office Suite that anyone can afford.

The Best of Intentions . . .

Before the crack of dawn this morning I woke up, glowing with excitement about a essay idea that probably came from a dream. The vision was luminous and the concept was crystal clear. I knew that the minute I sat down at the keyboard, print-ready copy would pour forth in minutes. How could I risk drifting back to sleep and forgetting? Sarabelle is a ferocious taskmaster.

I slid from between my warm covers out into the cold, dark room, reaching for robe and slippers. I came down to my computer and ... I had fifteen e-mails. And ... I answered a couple. And ... here I sit, looking at a puddle of story that melted in the heat of the thought required to respond to those e-mails. Turning my mental energies to the thought required to craft those replies was blowing a strong wind across the surface of the previously mirror-still pond reflecting my idea.

Rats! I know better! How could I let this happen when I left my cozy bed for the specific purpose of recording it before it went poof?

Well, no point in beating myself up about it. I could pull out my journal and do some freewriting to see I can recapture the thought. But it's way more tempting to slip back between those warm covers and see if Sarabelle might be compassionate enough to give me a second chance. In any event, next time I have an epiphany (in the early morning or later in the day), I will not allow e-mail or anything else to distract me from recording it! I’ll at least get enough of it onto my story idea list to make sure I can recapture the moment.

Write now: start a story idea list if you don't already have one. That might be a piece of paper that you add to and check things off of. It might be a cigar or file box for collecting random scraps of paper, or a document on your computer. However you manage it, be sure you have one!

A Gift That Keeps On Giving

Now that Thanksgiving is out of the way, most of us will soon be swept up in a rush of holiday activity, whether that’s Christmas, Hannukah, or something else. It’s gift-giving time for nearly everyone, and many are looking for creative ways to trim costs this year without making it obvious. Here’s a thrifty idea for parents, grandparents, and other family members (or friends!) you’d like to encourage to get started on writing their lifestories — create a lifestory gift box. This is a gift that can reap dividends lasting for generations. You can keep it basic, or get as elaborate as you like.

Suggested contents for a basic box include:

• The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, by Sharon Lippincott
• One or more packs of blank index cards for capturing story ideas
• A new pen
• A pad of writing paper (not a fancy book — such things are intimidating to write in)
• A blank printed timeline (you could enter basic information to get them started)
• A neatly written or typed list of stories you hope they may start with
• A binder or file folders for holding finished stories. Decorate an insert for the cover and spine if you use a binder.

The following optional items are listed as suggestions, but none are essential. Let your budget, knowledge of the recipient’s tastes and preferences, and your imagination by your guide.

• Photos of memorable events to jog their memory
• Records, tapes, CDs, or mp3 files with favorite memory-jogging songs and music
• Hole punch (for adding printed pages to binder)
• A gift certificate for typing up hand-written stories (depending on need. You can offer your own services, draft a friend or relative or offer to pay for this)
• Mementos
• Chocolate
• Gourmet coffee, tea or other beverage of their choice
• Scented candle
• Lap desk

If this idea appeals to you, click over to Amazon right now and order the book. Order one for yourself while you’re at it if you haven’t already, and save on shipping.

While you wait for the book to arrive, choose a box that’s big enough to hold paper, pen, the book, and related items. The kind with the lid that has tuck-in flaps to hold it closed works especially well. Cover it with lovely, durable paper and include a note to let the recipient know it’s intended to be used for storing writing supplies and maybe using as a lap desk. Then click here to download a blank Heart and Craft Timeline and follow the instructions at the end to customize it before printing. (A version for filling out on the computer is also available there.)

This gift from your heart is sure to open theirs and result in lots of stories that will keep people reading for generations and keep them aware of family history and ancestors.

Write now: about your memories of holidays past and memorable gifts you’ve given and received.