Ditch the Dummy Subjects

It was a dark and stormy night. That sentence surely takes the prize as the most clichéd and often cited example of bad writing. Do you know the reason? It lies in the first two words, “it was”. This construction and its variants are ubiquitous in our speech and much of our writing. For example,

It’s snowing hard as I write this post. There are several people sitting near me who look worried. It’ll be hard to get up the slippery driveway when I get home if this continues.

In sentences like the ones above, “it” and “there” are dummy pronouns because they refer to nothing specific, thus functioning as dummy subjects. Simply put, they are a form of passive voice, which generally weakens your sentence and slows the story.

The fix is simple. Reword your sentence to ditch the dummy subject. For example, here’s a possible revision of that initial dark and stormy night intro:

The heavy scent of rain filled my lungs, and my scalp tingled with anxiety as I peered through the window. Nearly constant lightning showed trees bowing like ballerinas before the gale. I imagined the gods bowling up above, and the stakes were high.

Moving on to the next example:

I look up from my keyboard and see snowflakes the size of nickels rapidly coating the ground. Worry etches the faces of people peering out the window at nearby tables. A woman at the next table looks my way. “Wow, I dread the trip home on these roads, and my uphill drive is going to be impossible if this keeps up,” I say. “How far do you have to go?”

These revisions switch from telling to showing. They add sensory detail to pull readers into the scene and create connection.

Don’t worry about simple dummy subjects as you write your initial draft. They are easy to spot and easy to toss, so think of them as  your friends, giving you a springboard for going on to greatness. Use your imagination to flesh out the thoughts and add life to those dummy subject.

As with much writing advice, there is an exception to this rule has an exception for dialogue. Real people use dummy subjects and other grammar shortcuts all the time in casual conversation. Sanitizing these elements out off written conversation will result in stiff, plastic-sounding characters, so let them keep the occasional “there are” or “It is.”

Write now: Read through a story you’ve written, keeping an eye open for dummy subjects, then edit them out. Then read a published story by an acclaimed writer and reverse this process. See how many sentences you can deconstruct, adding dummy subjects. Analyze the effect.

Challenge yourself to write at least twenty pages without using a single dummy subject, other than in dialogue. Then, if you feel their absence has ruined your writer’s voice, of course you can add a few back in, but you’ll do so with the power of purpose and awareness, not because you don’t know better.

Entering the Next Age

A few hours ago the Mayan calendar reset. We are officially in a new “age”, at least according to the Mayans.

Nobody I know was surprised to wake up this morning to find the world unchanged in any discernible way. I heard reports that some were stockpiling Doomsday kits of food and survival gear, just as they did for Y2K thirteen years ago, but this event has had far less hoopla in the media or public attention.

I’ve been contemplating its possible significance for at least four years, never expecting anything dramatic to happen, but watching trends and listening to thought leaders who point out that change has become dramatic and global since about the end of World War II. They also point out, for whatever it may be worth, that the Women’s Movement has occurred in waves of about forty years from the first Suffragette efforts, to the Consciousness Raising of the 60s and 70s to now.

These gurus opine that the trends they discuss have brought us to a tipping point where change must and will occur. They express no doubt that this change will be positive, escalating mankind to new levels of awareness and collaboration, but they don’t promise it will come about smoothly, without a certain degree of pain and suffering in the interim.

Their intriguing theories boil down to one thing: Stories are changing. Stories shape collective awareness, collective perceptions and judgments. On one level, our individual stories have become so fragmented that at least in the USA, even those who claim strong allegiance to ethnic, religious, professional or other groups tend to feel isolated within those groups.

On the other hand, collective stories about things like political correctness, individual rights, and such things abound. The challenge is that we have numerous collective stories at work that compete with each other. Which is right, my story or yours?

Anyone writing life stories and memoir is well aware of perceptual and conceptual differences on a small scale, for example within families. It’s only a matter of degree to see it on the level of an entire society, even globally.

How does collective Story change? Just as personal stories are an accumulation of memories and scenes that may change as we explore, question and examine them, scenes that may be linked together in an infinite variety of ways, collective Story is a compilation of individual stories. Thus collective Story evolves as personal ones do.

My part in bringing about the change I hope to see in global Story is to continue writing and revising my own story, seeking ever increasing transformation from fear, resentment and worry to one of loving acceptance, peace, and gratitude.

While this may seem a small, perhaps insignificant contribution, reports continue to pour from the media indicating that “writing peace” into our lives is a skyrocketing trend. I’m part of this trend, part of what Jerry Waxler calls “The Memoir Revolution.” Watch for his forthcoming book on this topic.

In prophesies about the turn of this age, the ancient Mayans never predicted Doomsday. They pointed to this pivotal point as a time of decision for mankind. Depending on our decisions, we may plunge into chaos and possible annihilation, or we may shift into that promised age of universal peace and prosperity.

That decision rests on the stories underlying decisions at every level. My story and yours can help spread healing and peace or perpetuate violence. My hope is that you will join me and keep working on your contribution as we transform to a new Story of love and peace, worldwide.

Write now: write a story about change in your life. For example, has your thinking changed over time about volatile topics like same sex marriage or gun control? How has your understanding of your own relationships changed? Be brave. Be brutally honest with yourself and burn your writing if you don’t want anyone to read it. And be open to new ways of looking at what you find.

Unimaginable Story

“A gunman went into an elementary school and killed 18 children and 9 adults!” My husband’s voice cracked as he told me this, and I looked up to see his face contorting.

It took a minute or two for the full implication of what he had told me to sink in. I immediately grabbed my laptop – I wanted to know the story, right that minute! It took only two clicks to find it. The more I read, the more stricken I felt.

“Students were told to close their eyes by police as they were led from the building.” I read. The story went on to say that children were led out in a line, with each child placing a hand on the shoulder of the one ahead.

I had to stop and catch my breath. How can we possibly fathom or make sense of such unimaginable horror? That someone could be so deranged, so tormented, that he could gun down children at their desks?

I want to know the story. All of it. Why did this person do this? How did he come to this state? What were the children thinking as this occurred, and how will their families handle the situation to keep it from scarring these kids for life? How will the community cope and heal?

Some of the back story, especially about the perpetrator, will fill the pages of papers and the web for some time to come. Much of the story I want to know is written on the pages of the future just now, but I hunger to know.

What more powerful example that Story is the operating system of the human brain? Story is the way we make sense of life and all that transpires. I’m writing my thoughts and reaction to this event in my journal, and writing this post about it as part of my attempt to come to grips with it. Will this click it into perspective right away? Probably not, but I feel better for trying, and my awareness of the ubiquity of Story is sharpened to a finer edge.

Right now this story stands on its own, but as time passes and I think about it more, I fully expect that it will link with other stories I remember, stories about school, about guns and violence, grief, tragedy and loss. Seeking more about this story helps me feel connection with that community and the people involved. Hopefully the story will ignite compassion in hearts all around the world, not just for the victims’ families, and those traumatized by today’s event’s, but also for the tormented soul who was driven to this abominable act. Story explains. Story sows seeds of healing.

Write now: pull out paper and pen – or use a keyboard – and do some freewriting about this incident and your thoughts about it. How does it affect you? How do you feel about it? What does it mean to you? How does it change your point of view about anything? Does it remind you of anything? If it does, write a story about that.

Image: “Maternal Grief”, sculpture by Carl Johan Eldh. Exhibit in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Dantes Plads 7, Copenhagen, Denmark

Purple Crayon People

Who doesn’t appreciate people who come along with a purple crayon and draw a door in the wall you’ve been beating your head against? Or points out the image you hadn’t noticed in the clouds overhead? Mentors wield purple crayons for us as they help us stretch and grow and see the world in fresh, new ways, and that’s especially valuable to writers.

Kathleen Pooler celebrated her third blogaversary with a post on The Magic of Mentors. The post includes a short video in which she interviews three of her own mentors, and I’m honored to be included, along with Linda Joy Myers and Jerry Waxler. Kathleen’s post includes a transcript of the highlights of the video.

One of the points I made in the interview is that many of the mentors who have had the most profound influence on the way I view the world and the way I write are people I’ve met only between the covers of an endless parade of books. I’d like to celebrate a few recent finds:

Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi take top billing with their amazing volume, The  Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression. These brilliant women convincingly demonstrate that emotions play a crucial role in moving a story along and fleshing out characters. After covering basic concepts and tools, they explore 75 leading emotions in exhaustive detail, explaining how people experiencing each one looks, feels, behaves, moves, and more. Even if you never write a word, this book will increase your awareness of emotion in yourself and others.

 Lisa Cron lights my brain with findings in her recent volume, Wired for Story: the Writer’s Guide to Using Neuroscience to Hook Readers from the Very First Sentence. Although Cron cites second party reports more often than technical ones, her findings seem intuitively obvious, reinforcing the importance of Story as the operating system of the human brain. Even without the neuroscience label, her thoughts on story structure ring true and inspire a few reaches and edits.

In Vex, Hex, Smash, Smooch: Let Verbs Power Your Writing, Constance Hale does for verbs what Ackerman and Puglisi do for emotions. You don’t have to be a writer to appreciate this book. Hale includes a linguistic survey of the history of language and how English in the USA came to its present form. You don’t need to read this book in order, or all at once to enjoy its benefits. You don’t need to read all of it. Skip the academic portions if they seem ponderous and stick with the milk of her simpler explanations and exercises.

Roger Rosenblatt is my latest mentor, and he covers two bases in Unless It Moves the Human Heart: The Craft and Art of Writing. In this remarkable volume he uses the memoir form to take readers inside his mind as he teaches an class (actually a composite from his experience), pointing out to the class what makes a story vital and compelling. As both a writer and a teacher myself, I derived double benefit from the book.

Perhaps most interesting is the fact that although Rosenblatt’s writing in the first chapter is definitely substandard (what are “French eyes?”), the value of subsequent material redeemed the weak beginning, and reviews show that at least some readers are willing to make allowances. Still, the fact that the intro wasn’t smoothed out makes me wonder if perhaps HarperCollins can no longer afford editors and shows that even renowned veteran writers need them.

I’ve often pointed out that reading the work of other writers can make your own stronger. While it’s important to read memoir and novels, it’s doubly valuable to include inspiring instruction such as that provided by these gifted and insightful mentors-in-print who wield mighty purple crayons and show you how to use your own.

Write now: leave a comment to tell us about one or more of your favorite mentors-in-print. This doesn’t have to be an instructional book such as ones above. I could have included Janet Fitch’s remarkable novel, White Oleander. Fitch continues to serves an an inspiration and example of remarkable writing for both voice and structure.

Like Santa’s Bag of Presents

“True, I’ve written a few stories, but I’m not a writer!” Such is the mindset of most beginning writers. In January of this year I posted an interview with author Nancy Pogue LaTurner based on her experience writing her memoir, Voluntary Nomads: A Mother's Memories of Foreign Service Life. I’m happy to welcome her back with this guest post building on the metaphor of Santa Claus as she outlines her writing path from novice to “real writer.”

Before beginning my memoir, Voluntary Nomads, I carried a weight around with me. Like Santa's bag of presents, I hefted my sack of stories. It was full to bursting and I needed to lighten the load by giving these gifts away.

Unlike Santa, with his centuries of expertise and magic delivery system, I worried that I was ill equipped to carry out my plan. When I began the memoir-writing journey, I didn't consider myself a writer. I could have, given my early experience as editor of my elementary and high school newspapers, columnist for my hometown weekly, and jobs throughout my working years that required writing grants, proposals, procedure manuals, and public relations material.

I didn't yet see myself as a "real" writer. Then I took a writing class, the first since college half a century ago. The teacher told us to introduce ourselves by saying, "Hello, my name is So-and-so and I'm a writer." It was embarrassing at first, and I felt like an imposter, but as the class continued over several weeks, I grew to fit the writer's costume and learned more skills to perform the author's role.

Faced with the instructor's scathing critique of my final short story in that class, I almost surrendered my name-tag along with any hopes I had of deserving the title "Writer." However, I surprised myself by having the courage to return to my story with a commitment to make it better. My persistence paid off. That story won a cash prize in an international contest sponsored by SouthWest Writers  and received Honorable Mention in the Writers Digest Magazine annual contest of the same year.

Even though more of my writing won other prizes and earned publication in two volumes of the Albuquerque Almanac and an anthology Wisdom Has a Voice, I still didn't see a real writer when I looked in the mirror. Like a department store Santa's promises, my sleigh full of gifts offered potential rather than actual achievement.

Even so, prizes and publication served as validation and infused me with energy to pursue my desire to make a book of my Foreign Service stories. I took more classes and joined critique groups. In 2009, NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) fever ignited the urge to write 50,000 words during the month of November. When I recognized the power of daily writing practice, I made January my own personal writing month and finished my memoir manuscript.

With the first draft completed, I began a new adventure. On this journey, I learned what it takes to publish a book, and I discovered plenty about myself too. At the beginning of the trip, I couldn't have guessed that I would be able to handle the critical input of an editor, find a publisher, format a manuscript for both print and digital editions, turn color photos into black and white as well as crop and size them for both print and digital reproduction, or carry out the marketing of my final product.

I should have worn a Santa suit to launch my book. On that day, as I signed and distributed my gift of stories, I finally felt like the real thing. I recognized myself as a real writer at last and changed my identity forever.

Nancy Pogue LaTurner plays Santa to three grandsons when they visit her home in Albuquerque where she enjoys retirement with her husband, Fred. Nancy's current writing project is a suspense novel set in New Mexico. Learn more about her on her website and read my review of Voluntary Nomads on Amazon.

Write now: Write a story about your writing journey. If you’ve been writing for years, include some of the blocks you’ve faced and how you overcame them. If you are just beginning, write about your hopes and dreams, and how you will know you are a real writer. Explore elements underlying your belief that you are not yet a real writer. Regardless of your state of maturity as a writer, include your dreams for what you’d like to achieve with your writing.

What Does It Mean to Fit In?

All my life I’ve wanted to fit in, or so I thought. Now I wonder. What is it that I wanted to fit into? Some might say their jeans, but so far, my jeans have fit fine. I wanted to fit in with others, to blend seamlessly with the group. To be an insider. To be like others. Suddenly I wonder: just what does that mean? What was I hoping to be like? And who were these people I wanted to fit in with?

Last month travel writer Annabel Candy published a blog post, 35 Ways I Don’t Fit In, and she challenged readers to make their own list and link back to her post. When I sat down to make my list I realized that any given item is far from unique. Each specific attribute will be shared by a multitude of others – like DNA, it’s the total combination of shared elements that makes me unique. In no particular order, I’ll list  35 of the countless elements that add up to my unique experience and self.

1. I love chili, the hotter the better – up to a point. Inspired by Elizabeth-Anne Kim, I’m working on a Kindle Short about my adventures as a Chilihead.

2. I spent my public school years in Los Alamos, moving there after the Manhattan Project chaos had settled down and Los Alamos was closer to being a “real” town.

3. I have visited all fifty states, and lived in eight of them.

4. I love working with Photoshop.

5. I’d rather be writing than nearly anything else – except traveling and playing with Photoshop.

6. I almost never use recipes when I cook.

7. One of my two earliest memories was sitting on the floor by my mother’s knee with a needle and thread and scrap of fabric. I knew I was only  making tangles, but that didn’t matter. I was sewing!

8. In 1961 I placed second at the state level in the New Mexico Make-It-Yourself-With-Wool contest.

9. I began violin lessons in fourth grade.

10. In high school I played string bass in the New Mexico All-State Orchestra.

11. My favorite afterschool activity in high school was drama club, known as the Olions. I always worked backstage.

12. I love to drive stick shift cars and still own one.

13. I have hiked the Milford Track and Tongariro Crossing in New Zealand.

14. I have walked across edges of Antarctic glaciers.

15. I can’t carry a tune by myself.

16. I love walking in the woods.

17. I do not enjoy gardening or yard work.

18. I do not like talking about myself!

19. I love solving puzzles.

20. I do things in binges, i.e. writing, playing computer games … even cleaning.

21. I used the kitchen clock as a calculator to keep score when my sister and I played tiddly winks as preschoolers.

22. I love taking pictures, but don’t give a fig about f-stops and all that jazz. That’s what Photoshop is for!

23. I have a great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother buried in Oakwood cemetery in Austin, Texas, right behind Ima Hogg, less than two miles from my daughter’s house.

24. I graduated from Boston University.

25. I was once a movie star’s houseguest at his beachfront home.

26. I was treated to a reed kayak ride on Lake Titicaca on my most recent birthday after dancing with village women.

27. I began using AppleWriter on our Apple ][+ computer right after Halloween in 1982 – 30 years ago!

28. I have six grandchildren living in three states.

29. I have made every type of clothing article from hats to shoes, lingerie to winter coats.

30. I was always the last one chosen for softball in grade school.

31. Many of my best friends live in my computer.

32. I’m a lifelong supporter of public libraries.

33. To my chagrin and amazement, I love ebooks!

34. While failure is not an option, giving up often is.

35. I quit wanting to fit in. I like my unique mix of me, and realize the joke was on me. When I quit trying, I fit in with most groups. 

Any life writer will recognize this list as thirty-five story ideas. You know lots of facts about me that you probably didn’t know before, but not the story behind the facts. I could easily cluster these ideas, combining them into perhaps a dozen or fifteen stories. That’s how a memoir is formed. Find your key ideas, cluster and arrange to fit a story arc, then let those fingers fly!

Write Now: Compile a list of 35 things that make you uniquely you, then write some of the stories. Post your list to your blog or Facebook, and please, link back! I’d love to hear a few of your items in a comment too.

Dancing in the Rain

Elizabeth-Anne Kim recently published two collections of life stories, DANCING IN THE RAIN (free Kindle download Thanksgiving Day through Sunday, Nov. 25, 2012) and WHAT MY MOTHER DIDN’T KNOW, as Kindle Shorts. These memoir pieces were largely unplanned. In this guest post, she explains how incidental writing can turn into something surprising.

If you can be an accidental life story writer, that's what I am. I didn't mean to publish independently either; it just sort of happened.

After nearly four years in Korea, my husband and I transitioned our family back to the United States in the spring of 2010.  I found myself in a new setting with two children who needed me close at hand. Traditional career options were not going to work. I decided to try writing. I had previously done a bit of writing work, and I felt pretty confident in my ability to transition back and forth between genres.

What I didn't feel comfortable with was my ability to stick to a deadline all by myself.

ADHD runs in my family, and I desperately need deadlines, lists, and accountability. Finding writing groups I could join with two little boys in tow was difficult. Finding writing groups that met consistently was even harder! Fortunately, I ran across a life writing group at a nearby library that met religiously on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Proud to have found a group that would give me a solid writing deadline, I told myself I could learn to write memoir.

I did learn. Sharon's book, The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, has helped. I am writing a full-length memoir—but this isn't it. Once again, serendipity stepped in. In response to a county library initiative, our life story group concept was expanding to other libraries. I started facilitating a life writing group at my own local library, and I needed some stories that were more relevant to the general population. Those stories essentially boiled down to my stories as a child and my stories as a parent.

Until that point, I had only blogged about my children, who are bright, creative, active little boys who also happen to have some mental health issues. Reactions from the writing group and others in the community cemented two things for me. First, many parents are grappling with mental health issues in their children now. Secondly, while there are plenty of heartbreaking memoirs out there and lots of self-help books for children with ADHD and spectrum disorders, very few people are writing about the joy found in life with these children. And that was my intent—to connect with others who were determined to enjoy their sometimes rather difficult children.

I began with four solid stories. I thought about building up enough stories for a complete memoir, a feat which would require quite a bit of time and would have no guarantee of eventual publishing success. I thought of my community. Those of us struggling now need encouragement now, not a few years down the road.

That conviction in and of itself, however, probably wouldn't have pushed me to publish independently either.

I was convinced instead by a combination of an upcoming project in our life writing group that I would like to convert to book form (and would therefore need a book to practice on first!) combined with Will Bevis's Kindle Shorts. If you haven't read Will Bevis's work, please do! It's hilarious, and I never begrudge the $0.99 I spend on it. In fact, I appreciate the brevity of the pieces. I will finish his work (and laugh the whole time).

With the project looming over my head, I began investigating the Kindle Short and Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP). It requires no initial monetary investment by the writer, takes care of all the sales taxes and online sales, and offers free promotions. It merely requires that there be no other electronic formats of one's e-book out there while that e-book is enrolled in KDP. So essentially, you can publish and un-publish in KDP. It allows me to get stuff out there in a format to test the waters. If I decide that I want to expand this material, which I think I'm going to do, it allows me to incorporate it into something larger by taking it down at the end of my contract period and putting it in a different format. It also allows me to test my voice as well as give a preview. As I write that longer memoir, I'm thinking of taking the stories that don't fit and putting them into a Kindle Short to use as a promotional piece later on. KDP will NOT work for my group project, but it has really allowed me to enter publishing at the shallow end of the pool. I'm extremely grateful for that.

Like many authors, I'm a little overwhelmed at the promotional end of the publishing process, but I think that KDP offers the perfect place to start. I have no initial costs to pay back, so my mistakes in promotions are not disastrous to my bank account. Because I'm confident in my stories, I'm satisfied that putting them out there, in whatever small capacity, will eventually help build my career, and I fully expect that as I publish more, the books will sell each other.

Elizabeth-Anne Kim, mother, writer, editor, teacher, records her personal thoughts at Kim Kusli, her pedagogical reflections at Umm, Teacher?, and tips for life writers at Lives in Letters. She is also currently coordinating the Share a Pair of Stories initiative.

Write now: Write about something annoying and go on to find the joy in it. Write about your most recent annoyance and include thoughts on how your attitudes might seem when viewed from another perspective. Empathize with yourself and gain a big picture attitude. Then turn your frustrations into a story we can all laugh along with by walking us through the whole situation with a few well-placed asides.

Odds and Ends

Everybody has a junk drawer in the kitchen or somewhere, a drawer where you put the stuff you don’t know where else to put. Stuff you intend to sort and put away properly “someday.”

I have a folder like that in Documents – odds and ends of lifestory starts and sandpaper drafts. Bits and pieces of memory and story that beg for completion, but I haven’t had time, or lost the thread or … you know. Stories that made it past the Story Idea List stage, but not by much. Stories with beginnings, but no endings. I’ll bet you have a folder like that too.

Today, when the post I’d planned didn’t work out because the video I wanted to include doesn’t display right, I decided to peruse my junk file. To be honest, I have more than one such folder. I found an older one with files dating back about four computers. I haven’t looked in it for ages, and I found some real treasures.

Among them is a file I’d intended to use as the first chapter of a memoir about my mother. The folder date on that file is in 1999, and I have not worked on it since. Usually when I find a file that old, I instantly find at least a dozen ways to improve it based on the countless writing lessons I’ve learned in the interim. Not this time. It’s all there: description in all seven senses, emotion, reflection, dialogue, tension stretching several ways, bait on the opening hook… .

That story is the exception. I also found meaningless scribbles that I’ll probably delete. Someday. But maybe not. Maybe I’ll leave them there, and someday one of my kids will look through my hard drive and find these files and either spend several days reading through it all, or simply delete the entire file structure.

Maybe I’ll keep them all for awhile yet, because just as I look at the kitchen drawer you see in the photo above and remember where we got the chopsticks we’ll never use, or the countless trips to the bread store represented by the balls of string, and the sweater or dishrags I’'ll never crochet from it, and the fragrant bottles of wine that held all those corks and the friend we drank it with, or the good intentions of the friend who gave us the beeswax candle I’m “saving for someday”, and the market in Victoria Falls where I bought the giraffe salad servers from a destitute woman too proud to beg, I realize that drawer is full of my life. Parts of my brain and heart live in that drawer, and much larger parts live on my hard drive.

Yes, I’ll keep the story crumbs, the odds and ends, and I’ll move that chapter about Mother up onto the active list. I’ll make yet another folder and move all the odds and ends of Mother stories into it where I can easily find them. I may yet get that memoir done. But even if I don’t, I have a solid start.

Write now: look through your scrap folder and find an unfinished story that merits polish or finishing, then take it to the next step. If you don’t have such a collection yet, open your kitchen junk drawer and find a memory. Write about it.

Give the Gift of Story

If you, like Santa, are making a list and checking it twice, here’s a gift idea for adult relatives: stick a copy of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing in their stocking.

This gift is a way of urging them to record their stories for you and the future. While you’re at it, order a copy for yourself. While you may not be able to crank out the story of your entire life in the next six weeks, you can begin now with a single story or two. If you write two pages a week, you’ll have six hundred pages in two years.

Amazon has dozens of books explaining how to write lifestories, and all have merit. In fact, I encourage anyone who is serious about writing lifestory, autobiography or memoir to read several.  I also encourage them to begin with mine, which is the most comprehensive I’ve found.

In addition to the usual guidelines for writing stories, here’s a list of features that set The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing apart:

• Start-to-finish instructions on planning writing projects, whether you want to write a simple story about a single incident or a complete history of your life.

• Guidelines for finding your personal writing style, whether you are a spontaneous binge writer, or someone who likes an orderly, little-bit-at-a-time process.

• Simple explanations of elements that bring stories to life like description, strong beginnings and endings, including personal reflection, and more.

• Concise overview of grammar and punctuation. Everything the average writer needs is covered in a one place.

• Layout guidelines with step-by-step instructions for using your computer to prepare attractive printed pages.

• Self-publishing overview explains the basics of preparing finished volumes of stories or memoir for uploading to free Print-on-Demand (POD) publishing sites like Amazon’s CreateSpace.

• Extensive list of writing prompts to trigger memories about any stage of life.

Please understand: this book is not intended to be read cover-to-cover, non-stop. It’s a user manual for the writing process. Read some, then write. Then read more. Repeat until your project is finished. Then read again and start another volume. It’s addictive!

Write now: click here and enter ordering information for several copies of  The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing! Then write notes for each recipient explaining that you’ll never be able to remember or tell their stories the way they do, and you hope they’ll write them down as a legacy of family history. Explain that it’s okay if they write these stories as a series of letters. The book will show them how to get started.

How I Realized that Poetry Alone Was Not Enough to Convey the Story in My Memoir

Guest Post by Madelyn Sharples

Madeline Sharples’ memoir began as a collection of poems, that she thought would suffice to record her memories of living with her son’s bipolar disorder and subsequent suicide. In this invited post she explains how she realized poetry alone would not suffice.

My memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On: a Mother’s Memoir of Living with Her Son’s Bipolar Disorder and Surviving His Suicide consists of a mix of prose, poetry, and photos. And if I could have put music into it I would have.

I originally dreamed about publishing a memoir in poems. I had a finished poetry manuscript early on and since poetry came out almost miraculously from my pen soon after my son died, I thought telling his and my story in poems would be most appropriate.

But I was soon convinced the poems could not stand-alone. My book would lack the details, characterization depth, and the thoughts and feelings of my husband Bob and surviving son Ben that were necessary in the telling of our whole family’s story. The poems provided the chapter themes and emotional impact, the prose provided the details and descriptions, and the photos helped to make the story seem more real.

Early on my son Ben introduced me to a former literary agent who asked to read the poetry manuscript. After her reading she suggested I use the order of the poems as a way to organize my book’s chapters. And that organization stayed mostly intact in the final book manuscript. This young woman also generously gave me writing prompts that helped me flesh out my story in prose. I worked with her in developing the first draft of my memoir for about a year.

As I began to introduce more prose into the manuscript, using my huge supply of journal entries, pieces I wrote in various writing classes, and my advisor’s wonderful writing prompts, I formed chapters each starting with a poem. Then I began to worry that interested agents would reject my book because of the poetry. That concern was not unfounded. As I looked for appropriate agents I found more and more who did not want to be involved in poetry books in any way. I even work-shopped the book and was advised by my instructor to take the poems out.

I also remembered the words of a good friend. She told me no one had the right to tell me that I had to take something out of my book if I, the author, felt it belonged in it. So, I kept the poems in although I didn’t mention their existence in my query letters. I thought I’d discuss the poetry later if it ever came up. Even then I was still waffling about leaving them in or taking them out.

Although I never found an agent to represent my book, I happily contracted with a small traditional press. My publisher asked me to revise my book in many ways, but her only suggestion about the poetry in the book was that I should add more. She resonated with my final decision to include poetry in my memoir.

Madeline Sharples studied journalism in high school and college and wrote for the high school newspaper, but only started to fulfill her dream to work as a creative writer and journalist late in life. Her memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On: A Mother’s Memoir of Living with Her Son’s Bipolar Disorder and Surviving His Suicide, tells the steps she took in living with the loss of her oldest son, first and foremost that she chose to live and take care of herself as a woman, wife, mother, and writer. She hopes that her story will inspire others to find ways to survive their own tragic experiences.

Madeline’s mission since the death of her son is to raise awareness, educate, and erase the stigma of mental illness and suicide in hopes of saving lives. She and her husband of forty plus years live in Manhattan Beach, California, a small beach community south of Los Angeles. Her younger son Ben lives in Santa Monica, California with his wife Marissa. Click to visit Madeline’s blog, Choices, and on Red Room.com.

Read my Amazon.com review of Leaving the Hall Light On.

Write now: if you write poetry, find a poem or few and write a narrative version of the story they tell. Those like me, who lack the poetry gene or muse, can find a photo and do the same exercise.

You Can’t Trust Memory!

I would have bet half the farm that this picture I drew was an accurate representation of my first backyard in Albuquerque. I would have lost half that farm.

I pulled out my 64 color box of fragrant Crayolas a dozen years ago and had a blast drawing a vivid memory of that backyard, calling on artistic skills little improved since I last sat on that swing. I remembered sitting inside a curtain of leaves on the pictured stump of one of the four trunks of that willow tree. A second stump, hidden in the picture behind the two intact trunks, was cut off somewhat higher, about shoulder level for me as I sat on the lower one. I drew the grass beneath the tree, and my sandbox back somewhat behind the tree to the left. The chicken house is in the back, along with the storage shed.

Sometime later I asked my father when the two trunks had been amputated. He had no idea what I was talking about. “That tree had four trunks,” he insisted. “We never cut any off.”

His report was a jolt, but the nail in my memory’s coffin came when I reviewed blurry photos from the first roll of film I took with my first camera when I was three. This one settled the matter in my mind and convinced me, I can’t trust my memory. Mother is sitting on something – I have no idea what – in what passed for my sandbox, and the tree clearly has four trunks. There is no grass under that tree!

Where the devil did that memory of sitting on the stump having a tea party with my doll come from? I have no idea.

A later photo shows that later I did have a proper sandbox with  wooden sides around it, and as I think about it, the sandbox never could have been back where I drew it. That area was over the septic tank, and I didn’t have to be told twice not to walk there – it could cave in!

In the larger scheme of things, it doesn’t matter a bit whether I sat on that stump or not, whether the yard had grass, or the state and position of my sandbox. I’ve enjoyed that stump scene pretty much forever. To me, that’s still the true memory, whatever the evidence shows. So how should I handle this schizzy memory?

When I wrote The Albuquerque Years, a memoir of my preschool years, I intended it as a family historical document. I wanted it to be as accurate as possible, so in the face of the evidence, I chose to simply ignore the faulty-but-cherished memory of the tree stumps. The memoir is written as a simple past tense narrative, tightly confined to those few years, so there was no way to discuss discrepant memories, and it didn’t fit with the rest of the content anyway.

If my purpose were more literary and the structure more sophisticated, I might include my original memory, mentioning how happy I felt sitting there looking at blue sky peeking through green willow leaves with the scent of roses and honeysuckle wafting my way on gently balmy breezes that caressed my skin. That’s a memory I return to now in meditative moments. The memory carries its own truth, and I would let it stand on its own, with no further explanation.

This trivial example applies equally well to more substantial situations. One aim of a memoir is to document changes and insights, so it’s entirely appropriate to include discussion of discoveries such as mine – but only if they fit within the framework and structure of the story.

Write now: write about a time you discovered you remembered something wrong. What implications did the discovery have? How did you handle it? How might you incorporate this discover in a larger story?

The Passing of a Grand Dog

With deep sorrow, I announce the death of my only granddog, Walker, who succumbed today to the ravages of bone cancer in Austin, Texas.

At the risk of alienating half my readers, although I fully understand and respect their importance and value to others, I admit that I’m not a dog person. I don’t want to take care of a dog or be tied down to a dog’s schedule. I don’t like being jumped on (my friend Martha the Dog Trainer could help with that), I don’t like having dogs climb into my lap, I hate being licked, and doggie smell is one of my least favorite ones.

Only two dogs in my adult life have nuzzled all the way through these barriers to my heart. One was my father’s miniature Alaskan, Pixie, who could have charmed a smile from Ebenezer Scrooge. The other was my daughter’s rescued greyhound, Walker. Perhaps the fact that neither of them lived with me helped seal my half of our mutual affection, but neither of them jumped on me, invaded my space, or licked me, and their doggie smell was mild.

When my daughter announced yesterday that Walker was in such constant pain that his meds no longer worked and all he could do was moan, she asked that friends and family send stories about him as a memorial. That’s a request I was happy to oblige.

I described the way our relationship began with a good crotch sniff and was cemented with dozens of trips out to check Walker’s “Pee-Mail.’ Greyhounds lack a keen sense of smell or direction, so he was hopeless as a guide, but on our rambles I had amble time to ogle some of the most elegant and historic mansions in Austin.

I mentioned how gentle and patient he was with occasionally rough tots, and his antics when left alone long enough to get bored. I recalled how his lean good looks and knowing gaze reminded me of a canine Sean Connery, and when he wore his scarlet paisley fleece “smoking jacket”, I imagined he had a long black cigarette holder and martini stashed nearby. He was straight out of Esquire and perfectly suited to play the lead in spy thrillers.

Since I spent only a few weeks with Walker in the eight years he lived with my daughter’s family, my stories are limited, but I hope that they are a comfort now, and a source of memories for my granddaughters in years to come.

Especially for those of us who do not have animals in our daily lives, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that their passing leaves a void in the lives of their immediate human families as surely as if they were also human. Just as stories of departed people help us through their passing, so pet stories can ease pet owners through this knothole of loss.

Write now: about animals in your life, past or present. Perhaps they were your own pets, maybe borrowed ones, or even wild animals that touched your spirit. Write about someone else’s animal and share the story with them.

Red Ink, Green Ink: Stop or Grow?

Red is the color of danger, a universal signal to stop. The mere thought of red ink splattered on pages triggers fear, maybe a slightly sick feeling. Fingers freeze, brains block. Creativity comes to a halt.

Stop right there!

Rather than launch into a lecture on the Inner Critic you know so well, let’s look at a fun work-around for times when you are in a red-ink frame of mind.

Write with green ink.

Green is the symbol for “Go” and “Grow.” It’s a safe, nurturing color of fertility and creation. As odd as it may sound, whether you write on paper or the computer, changing your ink color can make a difference in how your words flow, but you must try it yourself to experience the power. Use a green ink pen, or set the font on your computer screen to green. While you’re at it, try a new paper color, on-screen or under your hand. You can find more information and instructions for doing this in an old post, Write It Your Way.

For yet another variation, with or without color change, try a new handwriting style or font. If you usually use script, try printing, or use a different slant, or different type of pen. On the computer, try a new font.

Playing with  color and fonts is easy to do, and you can quickly change back to something more traditional by editing the Normal style (or Text Body – whatever your default is) that word processing programs use to make sure everything looks the same. When you change it, you only change it for that document, so have no fear. (Check for YouTube videos to teach you everything about styles.)

It’s easy to find fun fonts for free on the web, but it’s also easy to get totally lost in a web of spam sites as you search, or you could click the wrong button and inadvertently install malware along with your free selection.

One site I like, that at the time of this writing is still immediately accessible and safe, is 1001 Free Fonts. I suggest clicking the Handwriting category found in a block near the top. That link will access eight pages of alphabetically arranged “handwriting” fonts.

The site has reliable links at the bottom to find yet  more options. Just pay extra attention to any download links. Sometimes it’s hard to find the actual file you want rather than some “downloader” program you neither need nor want.

As a general note of caution, when downloading anything, double-check each and every screen to be certain what you are authorizing before clicking “Next.” If it isn’t exactly what you expected, stop the process. There is usually some way to skip or cancel the “suggested” toolbar, download helper or other app that generates revenue for the provider of the free software at the expense of your privacy and system integrity.  If not, you really don’t want that free download – it isn’t free!

If you need help figuring out how to use the fonts you download, this site tells you everything you need to know about installing and using new fonts on any operating systems.

Even if you aren’t feeling stuck, try a new color and a new font to match your mood and add zest to your story.

 Write now: Have some fun. Download a handwriting font or two and install them on your system. Look around your page formatting options and find the spot to change your page color. Find a color you like, or maybe a texture instead, and set your font color to a nice strong green. Now you are ready to tackle a tough story. You can change it back to standard color and layout later if you want, but for now, try the green.

Flat As a Shadow

My write brain feels flat and gray as a shadow.

If I were writing on paper, the wastebasket would be overflowing with crumpled blog post drafts. Since I’m at a keyboard, cyberspace is awash in electron static whirling off my hard drive as my brain spins and my fingers flail, trying to gain purchase on the page.

Each of those posts began with a great idea that I may eventually find a way to develop. Right now they are flat. Flat as a pancake. Flat as a board. Flat as stale beer. Flat as the hat an elephant stomped. You get the idea.

I think I know the problem: I’ve been reading blog posts and advice articles with titles like 7 Tips for Captivating Readers, or Bore into Readers’ Brains for Keeps. (Don’t go searching for these articles. I made up the titles. Besides – why would you go looking for something I just described as trouble?)

The advice wasn’t bad. The concepts they espouse are solid and useful. Maybe. Sometimes, for some people. Trying to follow those formulas drained all the life from my words, sucking them dry. The resulting posts sound like they came from fill-in-the-blank templates. They are preachy and BORING. They sound like I’m determined to write until I reach a certain word count.

The problem is they lack passion. They lack heart. They take someone else’s idea and try to embellish it beyond what it deserves and that makes them preachy. You deserve better.

They violated a key rule in the first chapter of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing:

There is no write way to write.
Try lots of things. Find what works
for YOU, and run with that.

Obviously there was one key piece of advice missing from all that wisdom:

Write from your heart first, then apply the craft.

If that sounds like a formula, it is, and it’s the exception to the rule. It’s the one formula that will prevent blog-by-number posts and same-old, same-old stories.

That’s the story, that’s the message, and that’s all that needs to be said.

Write now: strip a story down to its basics and write those, only those. Don’t embellish in any way until that story is finished.

Happy 100th Birthday to Blanche Lippincott

Blanche Lippincott, 100 years old (photo by Susan Lippincott Mack)

Although the number of centenarians is rapidly growing, having a hundredth birthday is not a once-in-a-lifetime experience for very many people. My mother-in-law, Blanche Lippincott, is one of those people, and I pause today to celebrate with her.

Blanche was born 100 years ago in Tucson, in the newly admitted state of Arizona. Her family soon moved to Ray, Arizona, a now deserted copper mining community, where they lived until she was about twelve. When the the copper industry declined, her parents, along with a few aunts and uncles, decided to move back to Philadelphia.

After high school she worked for a few years in the accounting department for the telephone company. In 1937 she met and married Ezra Lippincott, and they lived happily ever after – although ever after came a bit sooner than expected. He died unexpectedly early in 1969, leaving her a widow at only 57.

During those happy years they enjoyed entertaining, and their parties were always a hit. They took several Caribbean cruises back when ships were smaller and dinner was a full dress event.

After his death, she began a new career, working as a teller for a neighborhood bank, a job she held until she was forced to retire at the age of seventy.

If you asked her, she’d tell you she has had a rather ordinary life, and so it may seem to some. She’s never done anything truly flamboyant. She hasn’t set records, started a business, or written a best-seller. But she has tackled life with gusto, always open to new adventures and experiences. She’s played golf and bridge. She collected and refurbished antiques. She took tailoring lessons and dancing lessons. She belonged to Questers for dozens of years.

Perhaps her  most important attribute is her devotion to family, friends and community. When she married she became a member of the Religious Society of Friends, better known as the Quakers, and she has been a steadfast member ever since, serving on countless committees and helping with events. No family member or friend ever has to ask for help – things are taken care of, often before the need is recognized. She always has something good to say about anyone she speaks of, and she excels at showing gratitude and appreciation.

In 1994 she moved into an independent living apartment in a  Continuing Care Retirement Community, and within a short time she knew virtually every one of about 150 residents along with their life stories. Every time we’d go from her apartment to the central area, we’d have to stop a dozen times as she greeted another resident and introduced one or both of us. It has often been difficult to reach her by phone because she’s always out at an activity. Until recently that often included playing bridge, but her eyesight has deteriorated so much that’s no longer possible. When she quit driving five or six years ago, she retired from the local hospital thrift shop where she had served as a volunteer for over twenty years.

I could not ask for a sweeter, more supportive and helpful mother-in-law, nor is anyone prouder than she of her two children and their spouses, her five grandchildren and their spouses, and her six great-grandchildren. She is the most optimistic person I know, and should I live to be 100, I hope I’ll be as vital and involved as she continues to be.

Happy Birthday Blanche. May your good health and happiness continue for every one of your remaining days.

You Grow into Your Story

“You grow into your story.” I was surprised to hear these words come from my mouth the other day as I met with a new group of lifestory writing students. I’d never thought of things quite this way, and their truth was a bolt of psychic lightening.

The sentence emerged during a discussion about the need for every story to have a “moral.” Moral is a word with a lot of baggage.  We came to an agreement that strong stories include some element of change or growth as a result of events and experiences included in the story.

As mentioned in the previous post, it isn’t always apparent what that insight is. I pondered for a couple of days as I reflected on the lesson learned in “Grabbing Grannie’s Dishes.” Only as I adapted this previously written story for the Gutsy Story contest, did I realize that the initial version, written a dozen years ago, was an extended vignette, lacking the insightful closure that adds impact and meaning to a full story.

As I explained to the class, I was not ready to discover these lessons a dozen years ago. I had to spend hundreds of hours writing hundreds of draft stories – I know now that they were drafts – at the time I thought most of them were polished and perfect. But most are merely vignettes, lacking the full closure of a complete story. They do a good job of documenting experiences, so they remain a valuable contribution to family history. Far more than enhancing the message for others, the primary value in taking them the next step is the personal insight I’ll derive in the process. 

For many years I had to write simple stories, to practice putting memories on the page. Only recently, much later, have I begun to see the structure of stories and be able to analyze what I wrote earlier to see the gaps and voids, to recognize what’s missing to make them complete on a literary level as well as a personal one. As I see this, uncover the missing parts, my life perspective is coming more sharply into focus, with deeper meaning.

It’s become more clear than ever that writing your lifestory will always be a work in progress. No matter how thorough you are or how “mature” your story becomes, there will always be another angle, another way to tell your story, perhaps better, perhaps with specific application to a new purpose.

If you are just starting to write, please, don’t worry about digging deeply for meaning. Write your stories. Write one hundred stories. Write five hundred. This is a case where more is better.

When you do feel ready to dig more deeply into a story, use some or all of these questions to shed new light on the situation and add impact to your story:

• What does this story mean to me?
• What did I learn from this situation?
• How did it change or affect my life?
• What would I do differently today in light of what I learned?
• How might (that other person) view this situation?
• What other situations does this remind me of or apply to?
• Where is the tension in this story?
• What is the most true part of this story?
• Is any part of it not true?  

Ultimately, the only way you can grow into a story is to start writing.

Write now: look through your collection of “finished” stories and find one you’d like to revisit. Use the list of questions above to explore other ways of looking at it. Explore your thoughts with freewriting. Rewrite the story to incorporate new insights.

If you are new to lifestory ory writing, draft a pile of stories, setting each aside to polish and probe later.

Image credit:  Brian Lane Winfield Moore;

Gutsy Writing–Help Needed

Most people might reflexively answer “Sure!” to the question, “Are you a gutsy person?” then be hard-pressed to come up with an example. Others would simply demur, “Not really. I’m more the quiet type.”

Sonia Marsh, author of the memoir Freeways to Flip-Flops: A Family’s Year of Gutsy Living on a Tropical Island, plans to change all that. Sonia has begun a campaign to help people find their inner gutsiness, and she’s doing that through story. She’s running a monthly writing contest, asking readers to submit their own gutsy stories. Each week she selects one entry to publish in her blog. At the end of each month, readers vote to select the winner of the  month.

I need your help!

Her contest is bearing fruit. My heart went pitter-patter at the thought of writing a gutsy story for this contest, but for the life of me, I could not think of a single one. I pondered for weeks before the cork popped from the bottle. As soon as I sat down to write, another came to mind – then another. I felt I’d reached a new level in a computer game that activated my “Gutsy Goggles.”

The story I submitted, “Grabbing Grannie’s Dishes,” is what I might call “micro-gutsiness.” You can read it here.  After you read it, I shamelessly ask that you vote for Sharon Lippincott as winner of the August contest. Scroll down a couple of screens to find the poll and click on the author of your choice (I hope that’s me!).

Getting in touch with gutsiness

By Sonia’s definition, a “Gutsy Story” centers on a decision you made that either changed you, changed the way you think about something, or made your life take a different direction.  These decisions may be huge  (like her family’s decision to move to Belize, then to move “home” again a year later) or tiny (like my decision to grab the dishes). Each one matters.

Getting in touch with my gutsiness is exciting and empowering. It’s not about public acclaim or crowing, it’s about remembering times I felt strong and able to “face the fear and do it anyway.” Some fears were bigger than others.

Not all gutsy stories have happy endings. Once I learned to “see” my own gutsiness, I saw plenty of times I made gutsy decisions that slammed me into a wall of one sort or another, but even those had hidden value: I learned from them, and often had new gutsy opportunities as a result.

A key to their power

At first it seemed this story would be easy. I wrote it a dozen years ago without realizing its gutsiness. It wasn’t hard to pare the fluff to reduce word count over 33%; that was a great exercise in finding the core story. What was more challenging was complying with the contest requirement that the story include a lesson learned. Without that lesson, the story was merely an amusing anecdote.

Therein lies the power of story – the lesson. It may spring from the author’s experience or some other source. The lesson is the key to the changes Sonia refers to. Finding that lesson in your own stories may take some digging, but it’s well worth the effort. In fact, it’s a gutsy thing to do. You may learn something in the process of finding the lesson, and writing about it may spark change in others.

Stories – gutsy stories – are seeds of change that can have far-reaching effects. Even quiet people have quietly gusty stories. So be brave. Write gutsy!

Write now: read Sonia’s contest guidelines, then begin writing a series of gutsy stories. Select your favorite and send it off to Sonia. Everyone is a winner in her contest, even if you don’t receive the most votes, because finishing a gutsy story is its own reward.