Alice’s Adventures With Self

Who would have guessed that Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland would be a source of inspiration to modern memoir writers? I can’t recall the last time I read this classic that I often enjoyed  as a girl. A couple of days ago I snagged a free ebook copy and dug in. I noticed many things freshly.

Nobody will be surprised to hear me confirm that Lewis Carroll is a master of metaphor and brilliantly creative. And of course the illustrations delight me even more now than when I was ten.

But those are not the parts I’m referring to. I was struck by the candor and complexity of Alice’s conversations with herself. I didn’t even try to count all the various facets of herself she brought into play via internal dialogues. Note that I said dialogs. It’s not unusual to hear recommendations to include internal monolog in memoir, that is, self-talk. But Carroll takes it one step further and has Alice talking to her selves.

This technique especially fascinated me, because it seems so true to life. I suspect we all do this, that a “core self” interacts with peripheral “others”, but we do it so automatically that it largely escapes our notice. I’m working on tuning in to see how many inner channels I can find. Then I’ll practice writing some “Conversations With My Selves.” I expect that will be both entertaining and enlightening. I’ll keep you posted.

My hunch is that as we start writing these conversations, we’ll become more aware of facets of self we never realized existed. We’ll become more complex and fascinating to ourselves, and including snippets of this dialogue in stories will add both authenticity and sparkle.

Why don’t you pull a copy of Alice off your shelf, out of the library or off the web? Free eBook editions are easy to find, and you’ll surely relish it again yourself. You may get a fresh inspiration while you’re at it.

Write now: write some internal dialogue between two facets of yourself that you are aware of. Since two personas are involved, punctuate it as regular dialogue rather than internal monologue.

Honoring the Simple Story

Everyone’s talking about memoir. It’s a hot genre to read, and definitely a hot genre to write. More people than ever come to writing classes with the stated intention of “Writing my memoir.” I’m firmly in the camp of those who support this intention, but with a caveat: few people who bandy the term around have any idea what it means, or the difference between autobiography, lifestory and memoir. 

As you can see from my oft-used “Tree of Life Writing” graphic, memoir is a complex writing form that draws on increasingly polished levels  of simpler writing. At the base is what I refer to as Raw Writing, a form that flows onto the page spontaneously and unedited. Its most structured form is journaling, which is generally kept in a volume for at least a period of time. Freewriting and rants may be discarded as soon as finished.

Although it is not included in the Tree image, autobiography is another umbrella form. Memoir is a slice of life, zooming in on a specific time period or topic. It is thematic and reflective. Autobiography tends to be documentary, concentrating more on events and chronology than reflection, and it covers your entire life to date of writing. Both memoir and autobiography are built from smaller component stories.

Stories and essays are relatively simple documents, focused primarily on a single topic or concept, and usually short in length. They can be as carefully edited and polished as you wish. They are well-suited for focusing on specific events, memories, or beliefs. They’re a perfect way for letting descendants know about ancestors and family history.

Memoir is the most complex mode, frequently composed of a mélange of short stories and essays blended into an integral unit. Scenes within the larger work are derived from stories – prewritten or freshly composed – and essay material may contribute to reflective elements.

I value and teach each of these forms, but I have a special soft spot for the simple story. I didn’t yet understand the full extent of the complexity and benefits of writing memoir when I wrote The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, which zeroes in on short story writing basics, placing them within the larger context. Even in my expanded state of understanding, were I to begin it now, I would keep that focus. There is a certain dignity and power in a short, focused story.

Short stories are an ideal place for new writers to begin, and many experienced writers choose to stick with this form rather than moving to the more complex memoir. The thought of writing an entire volume of anything is enough to send most people running in fear. But a story … we all know stories. Writing a simple story seems doable. Nearly anyone can write one story. And then another. If you write one story a week, you’ll have at least fifty by the end of a single year. If you skip a week now and then, you’ll still have a respectable pile.

Once you accrue a few dozen, you may want to begin organizing and sharing them in collections I refer to in the book as “Story Albums.” These make great gifts. Although the album is  not a formal memoir, it does serve most of the same purposes, and is far easier to assemble. Depending on how you package it, you can continue to add stories, occasionally, or  as you write them. You’ll find general instructions for doing this in my book, and Linda Thomas gives easily followed specific ones in her most recent Spiritual Memoirs post.

You still have time to make such a gift for giving this holiday season, but you’ll have to get started soon.

 Write now: If you haven’t already begun to write, get busy and write a story about Thanksgiving. Use one of these ideas as a prompt: What do you remember about Thanksgiving as a child? How did your family celebrate? What did you like and dislike most? What vivid memories come to mind? What is Thanksgiving like for you and your family today? What has changed? What do you think and how do you feel about that?

Moon as Metaphor

Hang on! This is not about astrology or New Age philosophy. I’m working on my personal timeline – again. I made a table timeline years ago, and refer to it often. This one is graphical. I took a tabloid-sized sheet of paper and drew a line across the center lengthwise, placing it in the center vertically. I divided the line into seven decades, since I’m working on my seventh one now. My plan is to add “light” memories, happy ones, above the line, and darker, painful ones below.

As I began jotting memories in, I realized it isn’t always clear which side to put them on. Some, like winning the Distinguished Thesis Award, were clearly on top. Others, like being emotionally ambushed by classmates in a grad school class (I’ve forgotten the subject, but not the event) are clearly way down in the dark field.

Few are that clear. The majority are basically happy, but nuanced. Becoming engaged, for example. I was a freshman in college in Texas at the time, and my fiancé was in Cambridge, Mass. Although I was sincerely in love, thrilled at the elevation in my status, and relieved to have “landed my man” so easily and early, it wasn’t that perfect and simple. I was a bit sad about spending weekend evenings alone in my room studying or writing letters while most of the other girls in the dorm were out on dates. I did feel a bit of regret when a fellow I’d enjoyed dating earlier in the year asked me out again and I had to convince him I really was engaged. I sometimes wondered if I really knew what I was doing.

If I take the simple example of getting engaged, having that question popped and saying “Yes!”, or flashing that glittering stone, the memory goes high above the midline. If I take the entire cluster of memories, they scatter, with a fair number dipping below.

The implication for life story or memoir writing  is that writing about a single event, like getting that ring, will be short and sweet, and, well, trite. The story will be far more interesting if I include the full cluster of memories with reflections on my doubts and moments of angst. The shadows set off the highlights and amplify their meaning. Highlights give perspective to the dark times.

Looking down my timeline I notice that some periods shine forth brightly, lit with concentrated happiness and success. Conversely a few times, thankfully not too many, dense thunderclouds nearly obscured the sun.

Noting these cycles brought me to the metaphor of the moon and its phases. The moon is so predictable. On some clear nights, especially during the leafless season, it shines so brightly that color is dimly visible. (Cones, the eye receptors enabling us to see in very low light, are not sensitive to color.) Two weeks later the night will be inky, with varying degrees of moonlight between.

These cycles, these contrasts, are what make for compelling stories. Using the timeline is an effective way to find this contrast. Note memories for the period you’re writing about, and place them above or below the line. When you have the least hesitation, pull that memory out and break it down into components, placing each above or below the line. You may find that it expands into the far distant future, or reaches way back into your past.

Adding these details, these shadows, give depth to stories. They make it throb with life, placing it in the natural cycles of moon phases, seasons, breathing in and out, and our hearts’ squeezing and releasing to pump blood.

The shorter the story, the less opportunity for variation, but every story has room for a bit of depth. Longer ones, memoir length, may go through several cycles within the larger arc.

Write now: plot out a key memory from your past. Select a complex one, breaking it down into components and chart their locations above and below the neutral line. Then write the story.

Image credit: Wikipedia, creative commons license

Don’t Worry, Just Write It!

NAMW founder Linda Joy Myers has been busy posting about the memoir alternative for NaNoWriMo. In her most recent Memories & Memoirs blog post, she points out that this is National Life Writing Month. She posts four tips for writing a 50,000 word memoir draft this months in lieu of a 50,000 word novel.

Linda Joy has been extra busy. She also wrote a guest post for Nina Amir’s Write Nonfiction in November blog giving another eight tips to help you dig deeper as you write.

I suspect many writers are like me. It sounds fantastic to write an entire novel, memoir, or other nonfiction book in a single month – one of the busiest months of the year as it includes the Thanksgiving holiday and the onset of the December holiday madness. BUT … I already have three books underway, maybe four. Starting a new one seems counter-productive. So what can I do? Besides, the first week of the months is already history.

Here’s an idea: Maybe it’s cheating and maybe it isn’t. Who but me cares?

I could take the rest of the month and FINISH the memoir I started nearly two years ago. The one that’s been languishing, morphing in my mind. The one I think I know how to handle now, “when I have time to work on it again.”

Who am I fooling? When do I think I will I have time to work on it? I work on things when I decide to. When the muse whacks me hard enough to get my attention. I’m a big girl. I can make decisions. I already have about 18,000 words. That’s over 1/3. I should certainly be able to finish a draft in the remainder of the month.

I invite you to join me:

JUST WRITE!

Don’t worry about word count or ethics. Don’t worry about punctuation, grammar or even structure. Don’t worry about what your clothes or hair or make-up. Just write! By hand or computer. The idea is to complete a manuscript, from beginning to end. What better way to honor the intent than to finish a work in progress?

If your enthusiasm or motivation begins to wane, think of all the writers around the country – indeed the world! – who are feeling the same challenges, and get those fingers moving again. And sign up for the FREE NAMW roundtable discussion this Thursday, November 10, with Nina Amir and Denis LeDoux to hear more tips about writing a memoir.

Write now: think about your works in progress. Do you have a book-length one you’ve been meaning to get back to? Open that file and take a look. If you have at least 12,000 words there, you can easily finish in the allotted time. I invite you to take a deep breath, spend two hours a day, and blast through to the end.

Photo credit: Julie Jordan Scott

Giving Helpful Feedback

Kathy Pooler’s Memoir Writer’s Journey blog post, “The Art of Constructive Feedback in Writing and in Life”, blew me away. Everyone who works with children in any capacity should read her account of the way her grandson’s soccer coach interacts with his team. Everyone who works with people should read the post and pay close attention to the juxtaposition of that style with the feedback she got on an early writing assignment that shut her down for decades.

Her post especially hit the spot because I’ve been deeply reminded lately that strong writing – deep, meaningful writing – generally benefits from feedback of one sort or another, and yet awkwardly given feedback can do more harm than good. In an attempt to prevent such a negative outcome, writing classes I teach, I always give each student a copy of the follow  Feedback Ground Rules:

• Stories you hear in this room stay in this room! This is crucially important for classes and writing groups to ensure people feel safe enough to share honestly and openly. This caution is not just about story content, it’s about writing skills. Who wants to run the risk that a fellow writer or student might blab to others the sort of thing your own Inner Critic is screaming? You need to respect everything about the writing process. If you want to share an amazing story, ask the author. Most likely the answer will be yes.
• Be care-fully honest. Don’t white wash your feedback, but strive for compassion and tenderness when you point out aspects of a story that don’t work for you.
• State at least two or three strong points for each piece. This may include memorable (velcro) words and phrases, a feature of the story structure, great description, moving content, anything at all.
• Limit comments about needed improvements to the two or three most compelling ones. Respect each person’s need to grow writing skills gradually.
• Avoid opinion — I like it, I didn’t like it, that was a great story. Opinion isn’t inherently bad, it’s just too easy to fall back on opinion rather than exert the mental effort to quantify why you liked or disliked a piece.
• Tell how you felt about it — how it affected you. Were you inspired, amused, touched, saddened … ?
• What worked especially well?
• Did the story seem to be missing anything?
• What one or two things can you suggest to make it even better?
• Avoid the temptation to start telling related stories — make a note of them on your story idea list.

That last item is not specifically related to feedback, but it is a frequent sidetrack in classes and writing groups. I encourage people to keep paper handy to write these ideas down while they’re fresh so they can go home and write the stories.These same rules work with one-on-one critiquing, although in this case, you may do more line-editing. Find out from the author just what information he or she needs and wants. If it’s an early draft, there’s no point in pointing out every missing comma. Stick with conceptual and structural comments.

Should you find yourself in an unenlightened group and be subjected to a barrage of negativity, have a firm talk with your Inner Critic. Tell her something like “Consider the source. Some of those comments were valid, but I’m not going to throw the baby out with the bathwater, and I’m' not going to assume their mean spirits meant anything other than that they don’t know much about how to be helpful. I’ll keep writing.” You may bring this up with the group and suggest some ground rules (you are welcome to copy the ones above), or you may just find a new group.

Be kind with yourself and others, be patient with all concerned, and remember that neither writing nor feedback skills are mastered in a single sitting.

Write now: jot down some thoughts about feedback experiences you’ve had. Were they negative or positive? If they were negative, use the “Is it true” technique to explore the implications.