Decomposition

If you're like most writers, you pay careful attention to the composition of your stories. That's a good thing. But something I saw the other day turned that concept on its head in the most elegant way. I ran across a reference to decomposition books. What a surprise I had when I checked Amazon and found a wide variety to choose from. I must be a late adopter.

So it would seem. The Amazon description for Michael Roger's Honeycomb Decomposition Book refers to it as “a new spin on an old concept.” This old concept is not one I've been familiar with.

Searching around, I found no further explanation or discussion, but it can't be that complex. Blank notebooks are perfectly suited for recording journals. Nothing new about that, but that decomposition term points to a new way of looking at journals as compost piles for memories.

Think about it. When you pile weeds, grass clippings, dead lettuce and such into a compost pile in your yard, it all decomposes into rich fertilizer to spur the growth of newer plants. Something similar takes place with memory. Look back through old journals, if you're fortunate enough to have some. Some old thoughts may sound silly to you now, some profound. Even more mundane ones are likely to spark new ones, to give you fresh perspectives on perplexing matters. Nearly all will have been transformed, one way or another, by time.

Garden matter does not decompose overnight. Months or years may pass before it's ready to use. In the meantime, matter in the pile has broken down, fermented and mixed around, generating considerable heat in the process. You won't notice from the outside, but this is not a calm process. Decomposing memories can also generate heat, painful heat at times, which may encourage you to keep journaling and adding to the pile.

This decomposition process is one of the reasons to wait for a time before writing a lifestory or memoir. Letting things stew around with other memories for several months or years mellows them, deepens their meaning and generally enriches them. Using your mental spading fork to churn things around now and then speeds the process and produces a nourishing memory stew, ready to hit the page.

What better reason to keep a journal, at least now and then? And what better reason to dig around in old ones from time to time?

I’m in Love with Volya Rinpoche

I never expected to fall in love with Volya Rinpoche, a bald, squarely-built Russian monk who dresses in gold-trimmed maroon robes and sandals, has skin the color of acorns, and is a world-renowned spiritual leader and author. Neither did Otto Ringling, the narrator of Breakfast with Buddha, Lunch with Buddha and Dinner with Buddha, a trilogy of mind-bending, possibly life-changing novels by Roland Merulo . But who could resist that heart-melting smile, that endless compassion and infectious laugh? His naïve observations and whiplash fast “wessons?”

But wait. Nothing kinky here.As the story begins, Otto’s whacko, forever hippie sister tricks him into taking a road trip alone with this monk, her latest love interest. As miles and days pass, their relationship grows and Otto decides the Rimpoche is “the real deal.” Between volumes, monk marries sister, plots thicken, and Otto evolves. The novels are poignant in places, hilarious in others, always thought-provoking, and sublimely well-written. Otto’s acute observations on history, geography, philosophy and food are meticulously detailed.

I’ve always encouraged students of lifestory or memoir writing to read widely, to read like a writer, to find authors whose style they admire and immerse themselves in their work. Roland Merullo is my new hero behind the page. These digital volumes are full of pink highlights for exquisite description and gold ones for powerful points.

Although these volumes are clearly fiction, drawn from Merullo’s fertile imagination, they read like memoir. They are among those remarkable titles I occasionally find that convey Truth in concentrated form, more potent than most actual life experience could support. I consider them a prime example of the power of the fiction alternative.

The Buddha books came into my life at the perfect time (who believes in coincidence?). Over the last few months our nearly completed move from Pittsburgh to Austin has become unexpectedly complex and stressful, full of fretting and fear and second-guessing. I was convinced I had neither time nor the concentration to read. In spite of these self-imposed barriers, a book with a Buddha title slipped through the cracks.

I didn’t have time to not read these books. They reminded me of wisdom I’ve accrued over at least forty years, much of which I’ve ignored for the last many. They reminded me that I’ve largely fallen away from soul-enriching practice. They reminded me we can choose our reactions, our thoughts. Along the way, they altered and added perspective. I feel better now, stronger, and ready to forge ahead! Thank you Roland Merullo!

This is not the first time books have restored or enriched my soul and nudged me around corners. Should I include any of these time periods in a memoir, for example this move, it could not be complete without mention of these three books and their influence. I could take things further. Pat Conroy, perhaps best known for his novel, The Great Santini, wrote My Reading Life, a themed memoir devoted to books that have molded and shaped him.

What better time to snuggle down and read than these days of early darkness, of golden leaves and frosty mornings? Find an author you love and read ‘til your eyeballs cave in. Make highlights in ebooks. Put sticky tags in print ones. Collect heart-stopping phrases and notable elements of structure.

Write on: start a list of books that have affected your life and thinking. Write about these in your journal and develop your thoughts into an essay. Add a few of your favorite titles to a comment, as a tribute to the author and a beacon to fellow writers.

What Is TRUTH?

Nine years ago as I pulled together the material that became The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, I thought I knew the answer to that question, what is truth: It's what really happened, or what you really think. It's basic honesty, plain and simple. Everybody knows that, right?

That's a good starting point, but as I've learned since then, that's both incomplete and misleading. Some of my increased understanding is old news, things I knew that had not integrated into my cluster of life writing neurons. Meanwhile, advances in the study of memory continue to deepen understanding. These discoveries have profound  relevance for life writers. Here's a list of a few evolving insights worth sharing:

Memory is fallible. Contrary to what you probably heard in psychology class, self-help seminars, and various other places, you do not remember every minute detail of every sensation that ever entered your brain. Recent evidence shows that incoming data is filtered, scrubbed and consolidated. Irrelevant material is unlikely to be retained. Furthermore, our brains often mistake vivid mental images for fact, embedding them as memory.

Memory morphs. Research shows that each time you recall an event or thought, current circumstances and thought become enmeshed in the memory, and the initial memory may become buried in debris over time. Compare this to your story files on disk. You may save your initial draft. Then you edit and save again. You may repeat that process twenty times, perhaps changing only a word or two each time you read. Five years later, if you had a copy of that original draft, you may not recognize it as the same story. But you didn't save the original, so there's now way to know.

Perception is personal and situational. In 1978 I grew sick of my long, hippie hair. I was enrolled in an off-campus graduate program at Central Washington U at the time, and made the hundred mile drive to the Ellensburg campus every couple of weeks. One day I left early and stopped at a hair salon before a lunch date with my mentor. Although I felt foxy as heck with my sleek new bob, I could barely see beyond a new fringe of bangs invading my view. My next stop was the library. When I stepped up to the checkout desk, I heard a man say, "Oh, my GOD!" A bomb exploded in my self-absorbed brain. Could my hair be that bad? I swung around and saw him gaping at a document.

Truth is relative. This perspective is based on the one above. In my essay, Mayhem at Camp RYLA, I cite the example of a young woman who worked as a bank teller and was held up at gunpoint a few months earlier. Shots were fired, though not at her. During a simulated crime at Camp RYLA, she saw an object held at arms' length, pointed in her direction. Not only did she tearfully swear under oath at the mock trial that a gun had been pointed at her, but that she'd heard a shot. That belief was so strong and true for her that she went into near meltdown at the revelation the "gun" had been a plastic water pistol.

Truth is situational and sometimes inconsistent. Victims of abuse often testify to this. "I loved him," they claim, years after they got brave enough to leave. "I really loved him. And I hated him when he beat me. Sometimes I wished he was dead." Those feelings, those truths, can exist side-by-side for decades.

So, you see, although I don't deny the existence of universal truths like the power of love, story truth is fuzzy, fleeting and personal.Write your story the way you see it, the way it's real and true to you. If you find truth changing as you write, consider yourself blessed.

Write now: Make a list of beliefs about what you hold true. Jot down a few examples of each. Then ask yourself Byron Katie's question, "Is this really, really true?" and "How do I know it's true?" You may be surprised by what you learn.

Ritergal’s Birthday

Heavens to Betsy, today is Ritergal’s birthday, and  I just realized she is a teenager, In fact, she has been a teenager for a couple of years. That could explain a lot of things, but I won’t go into that. In honor of her birthday, she’s my guest today, sharing her flash memoir, previously unread and unedited by me:

That woman, the one whose fingers I’m using, thinks I’m only fifteen, and she thinks she calls the shots. Little does she know. I’m ageless. For several decades I lurked in a hidden closet of her soul, just beyond her awareness, waiting for the right moment to make my debut. In 2000, the time was finally right. The turn of the century signaled the coming of age of both the Internet and my lovely hostess’s relationship with it.

In 2000 She found the ThirdAge.com site and soon discovered that she could build her own website on it, for free. Back in that pre-Facebook era, people were leery of revealing their true identity online, and many adopted web names. She thought she made up the name Ritergal – sometimes she claims her muse Sarabelle gifted her with it. The truth is that I took that opportunity to step out of that closet and onto the Third Age stage she built for me.

The fun part of this story is that she thinks Sarabelle gifted her with an extra name, a costume of sorts. She wrote a post about that ages ago. I know Sarabelle well, and she was in fact in on this ruse. While it’s true that Sarabelle did introduce me, in a whisper as our hostess rightly proclaims, Sarabelle didn’t bestow the name on Her, she introduced me.

Sages that we are, Sarabelle and I have known the secret of Point of View for ages. We know what we know, and we know that it suits us to let Her believe her version of the story. I’m perfectly happy to let Her believe she is me or vice-versa. Let her enjoy this benign case of paramnesia. We all win.

But a teenager I am not, and that fact explains nothing about me. Considering the stage of our relationship, it might explain a lot about Her. But do understand, I am not complaining. She treats me well and we get along great. She’s a great sport when I decide to have fun – I think she’s secretly glad. I do what I can to help and support her. In fact, most of the time I enjoy acting like a responsible, mature (as long as that doesn’t mean stuffy!) human being. It’s a good cover.

She celebrates my birthday. I celebrate Liberation Day and my anniversary with Her. Hey, Sarabelle, party’s on!

Count me in on that party. Oh, wait … did anyone look at the calendar today?

Write now: in honor of April Fool’s Day, write a spoof of some aspect of your life. Make it an open-ended spoof so nobody’s quite sure at the end. Let them wonder. It’s not too late if you read this after April 1. Write it anyway and have fun doing it. Play is strong meat for anyone’s soul, and it’s essential for writers.

Kumi What?

Kumihimo is a Japanese form of braid-making. Cords and ribbons are made by interlacing strands. Kumi himo is Japanese for "gathered threads". – Wikipedia.

I first learned of kumihimo when I stopped to visit a craft-klatch group that met each morning in a lounge on the ship while I was crossing the Atlantic last month. I had no idea at the time that those few minutes started me on a loop leading to deeper insight into writing and creativity in general.

One woman in that group held a circular foam disk with strings of beads hanging around it and a thick beaded cord emerging below from a hole in the center. As she methodically moved strands back and forth across the disk, the cord grew longer. I was fascinated. I want to do this! It looks so simple!

As soon as I got home, I plunged into a sea of YouTube tutorials and was instantly hooked. I made a disk from a stray scrap of foam board, snipped off eight lengths of red cord, and began braiding. Sure enough, basic kumihimo is simple. My first project was a cord to replace the tacky ribbon holding a beautiful glass pendant I bought from a street vendor in Rome. Then I returned to YouTube for further inspiration.

YouTube videos are mental popcorn. Sidebar suggestions are addictive, and so is creative action. One video led to another, from Kumihimo projects to soda straw weaving, to paper tube baskets, to paper beads, to hammered wire craft.... Oh my! So many beautiful things to make! That mental popcorn was exploding. Where should I start? Transform worn storage boxes with fake forged metal finish? Braid another necklace? Make paper beads? Dig out denim scraps for a jacket? Maybe stop and clean house? I was paralyzed by possibility.

After a good night’s sleep, I realized that I’d gotten more than project ideas from those hours on YouTube. I picked up new understanding and skills. They showed me how I could decorated those aging storage boxes more durably. I didn’t know to base coat the cardboard. I didn’t know about using old credit cards to spread glue smoothly or about sealers for the paper I used. When I do tackle those new projects, I’ll be better prepared.

In the dawn’s early light I realized that creativity knows no bounds, and changing channels can recharge energy all around. After switching from writing to creative channels with more physical involvement and nonverbal imagery, I see writing with fresh eyes. I see a connection between the tutorials I just binged on and all the writing-related blogs posts and books I’ve read, podcasts I’ve listened to and classes I’ve taken. Just as I discovered new ways to braid and make jewelry, use the tools I already have, durably decorate boxes and more crafty tips, over time I’ve accumulated piles of writing tools and learned to use them.

Now I see that my YouTube journey into crafting has been a perfect sidetrack, jolting me out of mental ruts, exposing me to new ideas, and showing me new skills and tools. Best of all, these videos reminded me of a part of The Story of Me I’ve neglected and miss. Last post I suggested we all make Happiness lists. I’d forgotten how happy I feel when I’m making things. Finally, it all circles back to writing. This post is a trip journal of sorts, adding more depth and meaning to my crafty discoveries.

Write now: If you are distracted this month with holiday preparations, relax into them. Savor them. Enjoy the season. Make a few notes and process it all on the page in a few weeks. Hopefully you too will find fresh perspectives and inspiration. If you have time, do something unusual and creative. Bake Christmas cookies. Make a couple of gifts or decorations. Let this creativity fuel your writing later.

Tips for Dealing with Details

Several pages into a highly recommended memoir, a factual error popped my eyeballs nearly out of my head. Can you find the mistake?

In September 1963, the Cuban and Russian governments placed
          nuclear bombs in Cuba.
In October 1963, the Cuban Missile Crisis ended….
In November 1963, John F. Kennedy was assassinated.
In December 1963, I was born….

The Cuban Crisis was in 1962! Both that event and the JFK assassination are indelibly burned into my memory. The author can’t remember, I thought, but how could something this obvious slip by the editing involved in a traditionally published book? I checked Wikipedia to be absolutely sure, then kept reading. Along the way, I found half a dozen typos, and by the time I finished, I’d found several loose ends in the story along with an apparent contradiction.

But still, I do appreciate the book and its many strengths. The story is powerful and the author’s voice superb. I understand the book’s appeal. The mess saddens me on the author’s behalf.

In one sense I felt vindicated that such casual editing was released by an established publisher when self-published authors are widely slammed for flooding the market with slop. But the point is to write your personal best, not to meet standards.

Whether you are writing a few stories for family or a major opus for the world, these guidelines will help you smooth wrinkles in your stories.

Check your facts. Always validate times, dates or places, if you’re sure you know. Those erroneous dates for the Cuban crisis may be accepted as factual reality by younger readers. Your error about a birthplace or date could throw genealogists into a tizzy years down the road.

Look for loose ends. They may be subtle. For example, this author doesn’t mention how she generated income, but despite a divorce, she spent money like it grows on trees. She says she remarried. To the man she had the amazing relationship with?

Look for conflicts. She reports reflections of someone with her son’s name who met a celebrity she was about to meet. It makes no sense that her young son would have met this person before she did, or that he would relate such a mature impression. Ebooks make searching easy. No other person with that name was mentioned at any other time. Confusing!

Look for missing information. She cites results of certain studies with assurance. The topic is new to me and I’d like to read more. I don’t need footnotes, but I’d love to see an appendix with references and suggested reading.

Rely on beta readers. You aren’t likely to notice loose ends or missing information, because you fill in the blanks from memory as you read. Even family members may gloss over omissions like these. Discerning readers who aren’t privy to the backstory will pick them up in a flash.

Don’t rely too heavily on professional editors. I don’t know what shape this manuscript was in when it arrived on the editor’s desk. Perhaps she did as much as she was able in the time allotted to meet deadline or budget. Maybe loose ends fly under her radar. If you are paying for editing, remember that more time means more money, so have things in the best shape you can before you seek help. Professional or not, nobody is perfect, and any given reader will fail to notice something. Have two or three more people read for further edits and errors after the formal edit is done.

Be gentle with yourself. Readers love this book in spite of its flaws. Write great stories, give them your best shot, and then chill. If you pour your heart into them, readers view mistakes with compassion – if they notice them at all. Many won’t.

Write now: if you don’t already have a writing group or a list of trusted beta readers, find or start a group and begin a search among friends, local or online, who can read pre-release versions and give you reliable feedback.

Eternal Optimists Piss Me Off

At the risk of sounding judgmental (how human would that be?) I’ve got to admit that when I continually hear nothing but rosy accounts from the same person, I grow suspicious, even angry at times.

For example, an elderly woman I knew many years ago never had anything but the kindest, nicest things to say about people, even about people I found monstrously arrogant or rude. She was always smiling and cheerful, even in her nineties when I knew she had aches, pains, and countless physical problems and not everyone treated her well. By her account, people were always delightful, and her cheerfulness never ended.

Get real, Gertie, I thought. Admit it. Some of the cherries in that bowl are rotten.

Another example is an acquaintance who seemed authentically forthright and open. Until serious illness set in. At first, rosy Caring Bridge accounts of awesome friends and caregivers, minimal side effects, and even the blessing of illness seemed brave and spunky. Later, when no post ever mentioned the least affliction of the spirit, I became suspicious. These sound like press releases from the Ministry of Positive Thinking and Eternal Gratitude. What's it really like? What are we not hearing?

Snarky bitch am I not? But those reports increasingly reeked of dishonesty. I became increasingly convinced I was not reading the whole story. I felt disrespected and misled. While happy to hear good reports, I wanted to read about the challenges of remaining positive in spite of the odds, in the face of obstacles. I wanted survival lessons "just in case."

Now, lest you decide I’m totally lacking in compassion, please understand that I realized both these people presumably held back for good reasons. The old lady belonged to an ethnic minority and learned from her first breath not to make waves. My annoyance with her was fleeting. The ill acquaintance was probably hanging on by fingernails, frantically stomping all negative thought, hoping thereby to promote healing for self — and also for the world. This person is like that. Genuinely compassionate and caring, expecting the best of others and determined to set a great example by walking the talk

But it pissed me off. Reports — STORIES, that is — that lack conflict, lack a bit of appropriate, expected pain, suffering and angst don't ring true. Authenticity holds my attention, especially authentic transcendence. You can't transcend what you don't experience and unless you give a fuller picture we don't know but what you had a fortunately light case of whatever, sort of like being passed over by a blizzard after dire forecasts.

I'm not perfect. I obsess, fend off fear, dread and demons of doubt and despair like anyone else. I bite back now and then. So the last thing I want to read or hear about is someone so good, so saintly, that they don't have these carnal thoughts or problems. That makes them unattainably better than me. I must cut them down to size or feel diminished myself. Unfortunately, cutting them down to size makes me feel rotten, not encouraged.

So here's the irony for lifestory and memoir writers:

If we record only the light sides of ourselves, our noble accomplishments — the sides we want to be remembered for and examples we want to provide, we come across as plastic stereotypes who set an unattainable standards. Through perceived insincerity, we run a great risk of pissing off readers.

To claim admiring respect spin around in front of the camera, for at least a quick rotation, and prove that you are/were human. It doesn't have to be much — only what's required to flesh out the story. A few lines of inner reflection may be enough, if they support the story to help readers understand your point and person.

Only vampires and liars lack shadows.

Write now: pull out an overly bright story and add a few lines of shadowed reflection for depth and credibility. Readers will love you for it.

Discover by Doing

“I don’t really know how things will turn out until I start making them. They don’t always look like I thought they would, so sometimes I’m surprised.”

My eight-year-old granddaughter Sarah was talking about the clothespin doll she was wrapping in a scrap of cloth when she told me this, but she could have been talking about writing. She is also a budding writer, though most of her story-making remains in her head at this point.

I covered her doll making process in my previous post and explained how observing her expanded my creativity. Here are a few tips I gleaned that apply to any creative endeavor, especially writing.

Remain open to possibility. The doll pictured above became an Evil Queen, eventually  named Medusa. Sarah didn’t know who the doll would be when she began. Its identity emerged from the choice of spikey silver hair and black fabric and grew with the addition of lace and lamé.

Stories often work that way for me. Sometimes fanciful stories emerge from freewriting and their significance and meaning for my personal or life story become apparent only later. Other times I may know the bones and drift of a life story, but  my reflections often refract in new directions, adding unexpected elements. Based on my observations of Sarah, I’m ready for lots more freewriting!

Bounce back from mistakes. Sarah discarded several scraps that didn’t look “right”, didn’t quite fit, or didn’t please her. “Sometimes I have to try lots of things before I find what works.” Doesn’t this sound just like the editing process for writers?

Take a break when you need it. These dolls joined several she brought from home to become characters in a sequel she began writing to a book she dearly loves. I saw in silent awe as she made notes on a clipboard to set up the story , then began acting it out. “I’ll work on it more later,” she decided when she hit a snag.

Accept dead ends. “Or maybe I’ll just start over.” Sarah does finish projects, but she has no qualms about abandoning the ones that don’t please her, at least if they aren’t assigned projects for school. Aside from homework and chores, her equivalent of adult work tasks, everything she does is play. What a liberating way to view self-assigned writing projects.

Use organization tools. Sarah didn’t need tools to plan her dolls, but she is using them for writing projects. Her school begins teaching story organization tools in kindergarten, and I wish I’d had time to learn more about them. Her abbreviated notes looked like an outline of sorts, a cryptic sketch of plot. It reminds me of story idea lists, outlines, mind maps, and other planning tools covered in previous posts.

Play with your work. In my opinion, this is the key. Sarah asked various forms of the question, “I wonder what if …” constantly. “What if she had a silver cape? …” “What if” is said to be the most powerful tool a writer can use. It pushes us into the Land of Make Believe, perhaps better understood as the Land of Unlimited Possibility.

You can use “what if?” to explore writing techniques, and you can also use it as a way of examining alternate views of past experiences: “What if she really meant … ?” or “What if something else was going on that affected that situation?”

Realize that imperfections add character. This is a touchy tip, a tw0-edged sword. Sarah’s dolls are quirky and rough cut, exuding the power of primitive art. They are perfect for her purpose, capturing the heart of her vision, but they are imprecise, with blobs of glue peeking beyond hairlines, ragged edges, and more. Would they work as they are in the marketplace? Hard to say. Perhaps our biggest challenge as writers is retaining the freshness of a draft while editing out major flaws. Over-editing can sanitize the life out of a story or interject additional sparkle. Keeping the right balance between Heart and Craft is an ongoing challenge.

Another side to this tip is that imperfections in the people you write about (yourself included) add character to the people and the story.

My time with Sarah as we made these dolls and I watched her begin developing a story was a powerful reminder that life can be an ongoing writing workshop. It’s all a matter of perspective.

Write now: take a play break with your writing and indulge in fifteen or more minutes of freewriting. Explore the results and look for material you can polish into a memorable story.