Google Advisory, aka Trouble in Cyberspace

For over twenty-four hours I've been unable to log in to view Ritergal's gmail. I am also unable to log onto this blog site on computers that weren't already connected when whatever it is happened. Right now my oldest computer, the one that's running Linux, is the only one connected to any Google services. If it happens to shut off, I'm out!

This morning, on my way to the monthly Pittsburgh Writers Project meeting, I was listening to speculation on the news that the North Koreans were causing havoc in Cyberspace. Maybe they hit Google. Who knows?

Anyway, if the blog goes blank for awhile, I'll be back as soon as Google is healed and lets me back in.

I think of this as yet one more sentence or paragraph in my ongoing story.

Write now: about a cyberspace adventure you've experienced.

The Durable Part of Memory

Photo by Helga Webber

Yesterday I was hit over the head with a hammer regarding the durable part of memory. While we were fellow travelers in Africa, Alice and I spoke briefly about a paper she wrote in grad school while she was studying to be a psychotherapist. She read a pile of memoirs and synthesized some conclusions. Had we not been on vacation, I would have hammered her with questions, but at the moment, admiring elephants was more important.

Early yesterday I recalled that conversation with regard to my upcoming presentation on writing and healing. Maybe Alice could tell me a few things not already "out there." I quickly jotted an e-mail, asking about her dissertation (well, I assumed that's what it was). She quickly responded. "I don't know what you are talking about. My dissertation was on (something very different)." I wrote back and reminded her of the memoir reading and how she said she had wept her way through much of the project.

"OH! That project!" It was not a dissertation. It was in a class on Jungian psychology and for each one she read, she had to derive and write some personal synthesis thing. Obviously this is a Jungian concept or practice I am not familiar with, but that detail doesn't matter. Her only memories of the experience were of the intense pain of going through it, both the reading and the personal analysis. None of the hard data or details of her insights or the titles of the memoirs have stuck over the intervening thirty several years. The experience affected her on a deep level and shaped her life.

The mention of memoir and the report of weeping, the emotional part, is what I remembered. Emotions, feelings, those are the enduring parts of memory, and they matter so much, because they shape our lives. I remember the connection with memoir because it is intensely personal value-laden for me and resonated strongly.

Weaving those emotions into our stories is every bit as important as any possible facts surrounding the experience. Indeed, the emotions, the feelings, may be the story — as in this case.

There is another angle to this story that Alice and I have discussed. That is the power of reading about the experience of others, empathizing with that experience into our own lives. Deeply immersing ourselves in reports of other lives, real or fictitious, can be as powerful as going through the experience ourselves and often less costly in every respect.

That certainly sheds more light on the value of sharing our own stories. We may help someone else get through a rough patch of their own, whether that gravel lies in their past, present or future.

Write now: about reading a memoir — or a novel — that affected you deeply and caused you to view your life a little differently. Something that made a deep impression. Tell how it affected you, and what you remember of the experience.

The Life Writing Progression

The graphic above is fresh out of my head. You have never seen it before. I came up with it this afternoon as I worked on the handouts for a program titled Writing for the Health of it that I’m presenting in a couple of weeks. For some time I’ve been cogitating about how to pull together all the information and knowledge (there is a difference) I have on this topic. I had identified the categories in this graphic, but not until this afternoon did the pieces fit together so beautifully.

Each of these levels has health benefits. The "Raw Writing", especially the rants, has the most clearly demonstrated physical benefits, according to the hundreds of studies that have followed the pioneering work by James Pennebaker, PhD. I summarized this research in a previous post. The work of Kay Adams and members of the Center for Journal Therapy have clearly demonstrated the value of journaling, using dozens of specialized protocols. Kay has an amazing series of internet radio programs you can download and listen to if you are interested.

As far as I’m aware, nobody has scientifically studied and documented the value of writing stories and personal essays for physical health, but testimonials about its value for healing resentments, increasing self-esteem, lightening depression and similar thing are well known to anyone who teaches in this field.

Far fewer people engage upon the more rigorous undertaking of writing memoir, at least not beyond simple vignettes. Until recently, most people have thought of memoir primarily as a project to be undertaken primarily for the purpose of seeking publication. Why else would anyone undergo such a rigorous exercise? Since I became involved in the early stages of writing a memoir myself, I’ve come to see that sharing the finished story with others is a minor part of the value.

The more important value lies in examining a large collection of memories in an organized way, looking for the common threads that tie them together, finding meaning in unexpected places, and seeing my life as an ongoing arc of story. I’m finding more continuity than I expected, and am delighted to report that several old scabs have fallen off long-standing grievances, leaving no evidence of scar tissue below. Insight enables forgiveness and personal peace. Now, isn’t that worth investing some time in?

I have no plans to seek publication of my memoir project, but who knows? Neither Heather Summerhayes Cariou or Karen Walker had publication in mind when they began their memoirs, and ultimately their stories have emerged between covers, to the benefit of a growing number of readers. Both shout the healing power of memoir from the rooftops.

This graphic shows that memoir begins small, and develops in a predictable progression. If you sit down to write a memoir with no previous journaling or stack of vignettes, you’ll be combing back through memories, searching old letters, calendars and anything else you can find. And you’ll write stacks of vignettes and essays before they coalesce into a smoothly flowing story.

But you don’t have to progress to the stage of memoir to experience health benefits from writing. Much of the value can be derived from the simple act of ranting on paper, according to Pennebaker’s guidelines.

Hang onto Inspiration

Last night during the preview session for the NAMW Make Your Stories Sparkle teleseminar previewing my upcoming teleclass by the same name, I mentioned the value of building a collection of inspiring passages from books you read. My focus last night was on collecting a wide selection of descriptions that grab my eye and attention, but I also collect other types of examples.

I began this collection several months ago for the purpose of comparing and studying how various authors I admire use various descriptive techniques. It has since grown to include other types of amazing writing. I have found that perusing my collection is sort of like reading the Bible or other inspirational material, and it has been a great help in furthering my understanding of effective description and my skill in writing it. Reading a concentrated collection of pure excellence primes my creativity pump. It pushes me out of my perception ruts and nudges me to expand my awareness boundaries and see things from angles I may not otherwise have considered.

One caller last night asked me to explain exactly how I create and manage this collection. I was delighted by her interest, and realized that others will probably also want to know.

The process begins with reading. I’ve begun keeping a pad of flag-sized sticky tags at hand as I read. When I find an especially delightful, succulent passage, or one includes a powerful thought I want to hang onto, I stick a flag along the side of the page, as in the passage below from Anne Lamott’s book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. I carefully position the flag to cover the row just about the first sentence of the passage I’m interested in, and a smidgen beyond the edge of the page.

When I finish reading a book by an excellent writer, it generally looks like a porcupine, with a dozen or more tags protruding from the edges. Then I type the relevant passages into a jerry-rigged database consisting of a table in OpenOffice (my preferred alternative to Word, which would work the same way). That may take half an hour or so for an especially inspiring book, but I find the time is an excellent investment, reinforcing the power of the examples and setting them more firmly in memory. I’ll let this picture save a few hundred words of how-to explanation.

Click to enlarge this image, then use the browserback button to return to the blog

Notice that I include the page number for the passage, in case I want to go back and find it later. Publication data is minimal. I can get that online later if I need it. As I enter the material from each book, I leave the Source column blank, then type that once, copy it, and paste it in each row below for that book.

The Tags column is especially valuable to me, because I use these examples increasingly often in blog posts, articles, and workshop materials, but anyone will benefit from them. If I were using a more sophisticated database, I could put multiple tags in one field. They can be anything that helps or interests you. Keeping it to one word allows me to sort the table on the Tags column and find all the material on that particular topic quickly and easily. Of course I could also use the Find function to do this.

My method is crude, and someone with more savvy could improve upon it. Possibly a spreadsheet would be a better approach, but the boundaries of my geekiness don’t include spreadsheet or database expertise. A gal’s gotta have limits!

Write now: start a new file with a simple table like the one in the example and purchase a stash of sticky flags so you can start your own collection of juicy examples for further study and inspiration. Your writing skills will soar as a result. If you need help creating the table, refer to the last chapter in The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing.

Dare to be YOU!

What the heck has happened?Why am I having so much trouble writing? I asked myself these questions as I wrote in my journal this morning. In recent weeks I have noticed my writing has begun to feel stale and forced, lacking the joy I usually feel. Sarabelle has been conspicuously absent and I’ve been feeling boxed in, pressured.

As the answers flowed from my heart into my fingers, I discovered the reason. I’ve been trying to force my writing and even more so my workshop content into conformance with the examples of others. Not the expectations of others, but my own expectations of what people want to read and how they want to learn, and those expectations have been based on how other successful people are doing things. I also admit there was a tad bit of competition in there, and fear of being left in the dust. These emotions spring from my Inner Critic do not foster creativity and growth!

Before I write another word, I must emphasize that as Herm pointed out in a recent post, learning from Other People’s Examples and Experience is a brilliant way to avoid traps yourself. It’s well worth the effort to study what others have done and analyze what makes it work (or not), applying the results to your own work. However, beware lest you fall into the trap of imitation, the sincerest form of flattery, but a most insincere way of writing.

Posing questions and then beginning to write without thought or predetermination is a powerful way of gaining insight, and the technique came through for me like a magic wand. I quickly reconnected with my core identity of Explorer, one I’ve been aware of for years. I am an adventurer. I delight in discovering new places and ways of thinking and making connections between people and ideas from various sources. I take joy in finding new ways of doing things and overcoming obstacles. I love writing reports of my findings. I enjoy pushing my own limits and helping others do the same.

Formulas and detailed maps don’t work for Explorers. We must find our own way, sometimes using the latest technology and other times falling back on the basics, (like walking, chopping wood for a fire, or writing with pencil and paper). We read the situation and do what’s called for. We shun routine maintenance. We focus on climbing the current hill.

This thought-full re-vision rekindled my passion for the memoir I’m working on, and reminded me that I must avoid the trap of hammering my course content into someone else’s mold. That’s the surest way to bore students and stifle real learning.

So, I discovered that I do dare to be ME — my own unique, juicy, creative self . I don’t want to be responsible for running an empire with all the schedule anchors and promotion that involves; I want to travel light and write and teach footloose and fancy free. I invite you to learn from my experience, and dare to be YOU! Live and write your life your way.

Write now: pick up your journal or a handful of blank paper and write a burning question at the top. This question can be about your writing or anything else that’s puzzling you. Then free your mind of preconceptions and expectations and let the answer flow from your heart into your fingers.

Coming to My Senses

I recently spent a few days on retreat at a friend's house in southern California. Something about the mellow gold and ocher hills and spare landscape of the Golden State strikes me as magical, profoundly relaxing and invigorating. In the stillness of the coastal hills, without the distractions of daily life, I’m able to get in touch with the essentials of life more deeply than usual.

One morning I walked up the steep hill above the house. I went alone, with no agenda and no planned destination, just wandering along a road lined with magnificent mansions scattered among simpler California classics dating back fifty years or more. I went early enough in the morning to avoid the full heat of the day and intense sun exposure, but late enough for the slight chill and haze to burn off.

Warm sunlight activated all sorts of fragrances, and I began to “come to my senses.” Sights, sounds and smells took on unexpected intensity. I delighted in a sudden burst of fresh, moistly cool fragrance as I stepped beneath an ancient pine tree shading a variety of blooming lilies and other garden plants set in a moist mixture of mulch and dry needles. The scent was intoxicating.

Further along, I noticed a small daisy-like flower that looked like drops of vivid paint splashed on an otherwise bare canvas of muted adobe-colored dirt. I became aware of a multitude of birds chirping a lively chorus in the tree tops, and the churning of an earth mover in a nearby canyon. Houses loomed like mysteries, evoking a sense of pleasantly cool darkness within their thick walls. From the condition of the exterior and landscaping I could sense distinct personality imprints of their owner, imagining the nature of accumulated belongs inside.

My awareness alternately focused within my body. I noticed how my breathing strained as I walked up the hill. I felt the pull of muscles not often called so intensely into play. I felt my heart pound as it pumped extra blood to oxygen-starved tissue.

I wondered as I wandered. I wondered at the sights and sounds around me. I wondered at the sensations within, at the memories this all evoked, and I wondered what to do with all this awareness. How can I work some of these intensely personal observations into my writing​? Here are a few ideas I came up with to anchor such treasure on the page:

• Turn the walk into a story or essay. If all I do is report on the walk itself, it will be as dry as the dirt under my feet. But if I use the walk as a thread for stringing memory snips triggered by the sensory input, a story will emerge.

• Use fragments as freewriting triggers.

• Take an existing story set in similar surroundings and use this experience to polish descriptions.

This list could be much longer, and serves as tiny preview of the type of material we’ll cover in the Make Your Stories Sparkle teleclass I am teaching for members and friends of the National Association of Memoir Writers next month. Please join me on June 30 for a free* preview conference call to learn more about the class. Those who sign up for the call will receive a link to download a recording the phone call, so you can listen later even if you are unable to participate in the live call.

Write now: go on your own mini-retreat by going for a walk in a park, the country-side, or even the sidewalks around your neighborhood. Location matters less than awareness. When you return, sit down right away and record your observations in a journal or anything you have at hand.

* There is no charge for the call, but normal toll charges will apply to dial in.

How to Read Like a Writer

One of the best workshops a writer can take is found between the covers of books, and if you have a library card and return your books on time, it doesn’t need to cost a penny. Of course I’m talking about reading, often, widely, and deeply. Reading the work of others fires your imagination, and exposes you to myriad voices and ways of expressing thoughts and opinions.

Before I give you tips on how to turn your reading time into your own personal writer’s workshop, please heed this caution: Reading the polished prose of successful writers can put your Inner Critic on steroids. “I can never write that well,” it screams into your brain, hiding behind the first person pronoun as a disguise. “Why bother? My life is so dull, and my writing plain as dirt. I don’t know grammar and forget to run spellcheck. Nobody cares anyway. Why should I bother?”

Here’s what you shout back to that Inner Critic, out loud if nobody’s listening or you’re holding a cellphone to your ear: “I’m a student. I’m learning. I write better today than I did last (year, month), and next year I’ll be even better. If you look at the details, my life is amazing, and I’ll use this book to find a way to show that to other people.”

You don’t have to stick to reading memoir. Well-written novels, mysteries, travelogues, and other topical non-fiction books are also useful. Here are tips to make them do double duty for you:

• Take notes. Since I generally read library books, I don’t make notes on the page, but I do stick in Post-It flags when I find an especially delectable description or a section that lights my fire. Right now I’m reading Christina Baldwin’s amazing book Storycatcher: Making Sense of Our Lives through the Power and Practice of Story. This book is like rich chocolate to me, so I’m taking my time with it. I’m only about a quarter of the way through, and it already looks like a porcupine, with pink quills sticking out the edges. Later I’ll sit at my computer as I go back through and transcribe notes from those sections. That works better for me than taking notes longhand on paper, but you’ll find your own system.
• Ask the same question about the book as a whole. What did you like? What didn’t work as well? What questions are you left with? Why would you or would you not recommend this book to a friend?
• Analyze. When you find those glowing sections, ask yourself what grabs your attention? What makes this section work especially well for you? Jot down the answers and create your own text or checklist to use when you are writing.
• Review it. Write a review of the book. This may be a long and detailed or a few sentences. Post your review on Amazon if you feel brave and have an account. The process of writing the review helps you hone your writing skills and practice putting random thoughts in logical order.
• Discuss it. Join a book discussion group, at your library or bookstore, or start your own. You can also find online book discussion groups. You can learn even more from hearing how other people experienced the book.

For a powerful set of examples of how to wring the last bit of juice from the books you read, visit Jerry Waxler’s blog, Memory Writer’s Network and browse through his 150+ insightful analyses and reviews.

Books are indeed a powerful workshop, but I also encourage you to sign up for occasional classes, workshops and writing groups. Books can inspire your ideas and help you craft your content, but they will never supplant the value of feedback from compassionate and insightful readers. You’ll also benefit from reading books about writing, participating in teleseminars and listening to podcasts about writing. For further guidance and inspiration, get involved with the Life Writer's Forum (see box in left column to join) or the National Association of Memoir Writers.

Write now: write a short review of the last book you read. If it’s been awhile, visit the library and check out a few. Bring home several. You don’t have to read them all, but it’s helpful to browse through them and you’ll help the library by keeping circulation stats high.