Six Things I Learned Going from Memoir to Fiction

Invited guest post by Carol Bodensteiner

Long time readers may be surprised to find a post about writing fiction on this blog about life writing. While it’s true that my focus is on memoir, lifestory, journaling and other forms that draw upon actual experience to express personal truth, sometimes the freedom of fiction is more effective in conveying truth. Carol Bodensteiner found this to be true. She has successfully written in both genres and her experience moving from memoir to fiction has lessons for all.

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I’d been a business writer all my life, so I was used to working with facts. Memoir was a logical first writing step. Growing Up Country: Memories of an Iowa Girl, tells the stories of my childhood growing up on a family farm in the middle of the United States, in the middle of the 20^th Century.

When I finally raised my head from writing, publishing, and marketing the memoir, I looked around for what I’d write next. I turned to family-inspired fiction, which I’d never written before.  My novel, Go Away Home, which I indie published in 2014 and was acquired by Lake Union Publishing (an imprint of Amazon Publishing) later that year, is the result of that effort.

The road from memoir to fiction brought many adventures and a lot of learning. Here are six things I learned along the way.

1) A family story can be a great launching pad to fiction.

Go Away Home was inspired by my maternal grandparents. My grandfather died of the Spanish Flu in 1918. Throughout my life, I’ve been intrigued by my connection to this major world event. As someone used to writing from facts, a family story gave me a starting point: A story I cared to write and people and places that were familiar.

Writing the story as fiction was necessary for many reasons. One was that I didn’t have enough facts to write it any other way. Of course I never knew my grandfather and even though my grandmother lived until I was well into my 20s, I never asked her a single question about him or their lives together. And she was not the type to share. So though the story began with family, it is fiction.

2) Don’t get stuck on the facts

Once I got into writing the story, one of the biggest challenges was letting go of the facts. Since the genesis of this story rose from people in my family, and I knew a bit about the people, places, and events, my inclination was to use those facts. But I quickly found that the facts didn’t work for the story I was ultimately telling. They didn’t create a good story arc. There was no drama. On his website, Write the Truth, Robert McKee said, “The weakest possible excuse to include anything in a story is: ‘But it actually happened.’”  Having gone this route, I believe him.

3) Do get stuck on the facts

Since Go Away Home is historical fiction, research was critical to creating the time period accurately. Clothes, transportation, hairstyles, technology, colloquialisms. The list of topics I researched and fact checked was long. Readers of historical fiction really care about the details. Writers must, too.

Research also helped shape the story. One example: Family lore was that my grandmother went to a sewing school. Research revealed that the town in question didn’t have a sewing school, rather that young girls apprenticed with seamstresses as a way to learn an important life skill and to meet a man to marry.  The idea that seamstresses were invited to their clients’ house parties had terrific dramatic potential, so I ran with that.

Another bit of fact to fiction. My grandmother took pictures, but the whole part in the book about the main character’s work for a photographer and her relationship with him is entirely fiction.  Most of the book is that way. Tiny fact. Huge fiction.

4) Planner vs. Pantser

Writers fall into two general camps: Planners and Pantsers. I wrote my way into Go Away Home, discovering the story through countless re-writes – by the seat of my pants. I always knew the end of the story; I didn’t know how we got there. In the first draft, the story started in 1900 and my main character Liddie was 10. In the second draft, the story started in 1915 and Liddie was 19. In the published draft, the story starts in 1913 and Liddie is 16. Believe me – those changes create seismic waves throughout the story.

Having used this highly inefficient “pantser” approach once, I’m reasonably certain that I’m a “plotter” at heart and will be more plan-ful in future writing.

5) Fiction is freeing

While I thought it would be easier to start with some facts because that was what I was used to, the reality was there was great freedom in starting with nothing. As the story developed (pantser), it became clear that connections were missing. I needed a scene to show my main character’s inexperience with men. No problem. I made up a guy. I found it was great fun to let my imagination run. Over and over, I filled holes with scenes that met a plot need.

6) New craft to learn

I learned a lot about creative writing as I crafted my memoir, much of which was also applicable to fiction. Dialogue, scene development, visual characterization – all come into play in both genres. Plotting was a new challenge in fiction writing, as I noted earlier. Developing multi-dimensional fictional characters was another challenge.

I used a number of techniques that contributed to creating the real, individual people living in my novel. I visualized people I know who were somewhat like the characters I had in mind. Writing exercises helped to identify key traits and to express them in fresh ways. I used Enneagram research to flesh out the positive and negative traits of various personality types.

From memoir to fiction, from craft to research, I will always be able to learn something new about writing, and for me, that’s great fun.

Go Away Home is available on Amazon in paperback and ebook formats.

Growing Up Country is available on Amazon in paperback, ebook, and audio book formats.

Carol Bodensteiner – Bio

Carol Bodensteiner is a writer who finds inspiration in the places, people, culture and history of the Midwest. After a successful career in public relations consulting, she turned to creative writing. She blogs about writing, her prairie, gardening, and whatever in life interests her at the moment. She published her memoir Growing Up Country in 2008. Her WWI-era, debut novel Go Away Home was acquired by Lake Union Publishing, an imprint of Amazon Publishing. It launches July 7, 2015.

Carol’s online links
Website/blog 
Twitter
LinkedIn
Facebook

Write now: think of an interesting ancestor or other person who has influenced your life that you know relatively little about. Drawing on Carol’s experience, write a short story about how you imagine this person’s life might have been. Don’t worry about facts. Just let that story rip. Have fun with this!

A Delicious Way to Eat Your Words

Thanks to the efforts of his creative wife Vivian, on May 9 this year, about thirty people helped Don Duncan eat his words.

We were all gathered at the Whitehall Public Library in Whitehall, Pennsylvania to celebrate the conclusion of The Power of Memoir, an eight-week series of classes  that I had the pleasure of leading. Each week a dozen eager students gathered for two hours to learn a few pointers from The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing. During the class, they read stories based on their assignment for the week.

Each week we had a predictably wide spectrum of stories. Some, like the one about a woman’s first date with the undertaker who became her husband, had us howling with laughter. Stories about growing up in foster care touched our hearts. We shared memories of growing up around the South Hills region of metropolitan Pittsburgh, holidays, and other aspects of life.

At the conclusion of the class, students brought their favorite stories to a Saturday morning event at the library and read them to friends, family and library patrons. Mary Kay Moran, the librarian who arranged for the class, provided a magnificent continental breakfast, and the crown jewel of the occasion was the cake you see above.

Don Duncan had read a story, “Singing Brings Joy.” His wife, Vivian, surprised everyone with the cake you see above. She knew which story he planned to read. She took the story file to her favorite grocery store’s bakery and had them print the first and last pages on special edible rice paper with edible ink. She explained that this is the same process they use to print pictures and other messages not formed with the traditional piped icing.

“You put the icing on the cake and immediately put the printed rice paper on top. If you order a cake, they’ll do this for you. I bake my own. It’s important to put the paper on as soon as you finish spreading the icing so the oils in it ‘melt’ the rice paper right into the surface. If you wait too long, it won’t react correctly, and the paper just sits on top.” She told us they’ll print anything and just charge you for the printed page, as long as you assure them no copyright violation is involved.

We enjoyed each story we heard that morning, and then we enjoyed eating Don’s.

As predictably happens with such a class, the group wanted to keep meeting to write and read together. The library agreed to provide space and Mary Kay has taken the lead to facilitate the group. I look forward to stopping by for a visit once in awhile.

I was excited to hear last week that a similar group is underway at the Community Library of Allegheny Valley in Natrona Heights north of Pittsburgh, led by Caitlin Bauer, one of the librarians there. I was especially thrilled to learn that Caitlin is using a leaders manual I prepared a couple of years ago to help libraries around the county start these groups.

I published that manual under a Creative Commons license, making it available for free for anyone who wants to start a group. I put no restrictions on its use, though I hope all groups will be open to anyone who wants to participate without restriction based on gender, etc. I do realize that organizations like Senior Centers may have age restrictions, but beyond that, in my opinion, diversity is the key to the success of these groups. So far more than a dozen groups have validated that it works.

You don’t have to be a strong or experienced writer to lead a group. The manual includes an outline for a six week workshop to get people started. Beyond that, people learn from each other. The leader’s main role is making initial arrangements and keeping people focused on their written stories rather than reminiscing during meetings.

If you are interested in starting a group, send me an email and I’ll be happy to send you the pdf file and answer any questions you may have.

Write now:  1) Be adventurous. Send for the Leaders Manual and use the suggestions for finding a location and group members. This will be one of the most rewarding things you’ll do this year. Start planning now to start a group this fall.

2) Bake a cake and let somebody eat his or her words – or yours.

Clear the Haze from Pictures and Memory

The pictures above have deep meaning for me, and I think they are likely to strike a chord with most viewers, evoking memories of their own. I want my stories to have that effect. I want readers to see themselves in my words, finding new ways to see old situations and become more fully themselves.

I recently found this left-hand picture from 1973 in a pile I was sorting through. Something in it stirred me, though haziness dimmed my response. I decided to try restoring it.

I scanned it with my Epson V600 scanner using Professional mode on the scanner interface. I used the Color Restoration tool and the Unsharp Mask tool set to high. That produced over 90% of the result you see on the right, but I wanted more. I cloned out spots on the pillow and sharpened the picture a bit more. Then I added a warming yellowish tone to approximate the wall color I recall.

The crisp, haze-free result makes me feel like I’m “back in the picture,” especially when I view it full size and zoom in on details.

I used an ancient version of Photoshop for this, but Paint.net does almost as much as Photoshop and it’s free. Picasa, another popular free choice, is easy to use. Most scanners should have some semblance of the  Epson’s capability. My husband’s 12-year-old Epson can do this, just not as fast.

Once I got a clear view of the photo, I sat with it until I sank into the feeling of having those tots around full time, and gratitude I felt. I thought about how different they were from each other. I looked at our clothing and recalled the joy of sewing. George is on the left. I made his jeans. I made Susan’s to match one I made for myself. I made John’s trendy fake vest shirt. Sewing with knits was big in the seventies. I’m surprised to realize that my shirt and pants both came from stores. Nearly everything in my closet was my own creation.

I remembered the challenge of reupholstering the tattered Goodwill sectional my mom was tired of. Fake animal fur was affordable and trendy. It was a perfect fit for the shag rug in our brand-new home. When we bought new living room furniture, this old stuff went down to the family room. On the right side you see the crewel embroidery project I was working on. That huge picture perfectly matched the carpeting. I put it away years ago. I may rehang it yet.

Oh, the hair – where did it all go? This was my Involved Earth Mother phase: PTO, League of Women Voters, Republican Women, bridge club and more.  I also recalled feeling overwhelmed at times, and wondering just where I fit into the larger scheme of things. Mostly it was a time of settling into house and community and keeping those lively youngsters and their daddy fed, clothed and happy.

I made a list of memories I can use in stories spawned by that picture:

• Shag rug: hard to live with! Vacuuming flattened it, and I used a garden rake to restore it to fluffiness. Needless to say, I did not do that on a daily basis.
• Bare feet. I lived in bare feet in the house. I still do in the summer.
• Making things. I loved crafting enhancements for our home. Repurposing “found objects” was my specialty. I hope to get back to that soon when we move into another new-to-us home.
• Informality: Our life style was and still is informal. What you see there is no formal pose. It’s typical.

The list goes on, but you get the idea.

My final thought is that stories are like that these pictures. I liken the left one to an early draft. A robust round of editing clears the haze, letting the story shine through. A few more tweaks enhance detail. The final version conveys the sense of the situation so well that readers feel “in the picture,” much as I do with the finished version on the right.

Write now: Find an old picture that’s hazy and indistinct. Play with settings on your scanner and use Paint.net or Picasa to touch it up. Zoom in on details in the finished result and look for stories everywhere.

Dreams Do Come True

Dreams do come true – the day dream kind, the wish upon a star kind. I know this because many of mine have. I know they have because I wrote them down. Two examples stand out and show how writing dreams down can benefit life writers.

Moving to Pittsburgh
Around 1983 I began dreaming about moving away from what I considered to be the serious career limits of life in Washington’s Tri-Cities (Richland, Kennewick and Pasco). That was during the hey day of the goal setting movement, at least for me. So I drafted a list of everything I wanted when we moved, even though no move was in sight. That list had over twenty items. Among other things it included

• Major university.
• Major corporate headquarters
• A house with high ceilings
• A stream in our backyard. (That was pure whimsy, nothing I expected to get.)

I stuck that list somewhere and forgot about it. 

In 1985 my husband accepted a job transfer from the Westinghouse Hanford Nuclear Project to the Westinghouse Nuclear Center in Monroeville, Pennsylvania. I was thrilled to be in a suburb of a real city. Fast forward about three years. I found that list. I was stunned. Every item on it had been fulfilled. True, the high ceiling is only a half-cathedral and the stream only runs after a serious rainstorm, but it is a stream, and it is in the woods in our backyard.

Moving again
in 1993 I wrote a future vision as part of another goal-setting/dream-building exercise. Over the past several years I’ve remembered that exercise often, and looked all over for it, primarily to show my daughter that a dozen years before she met their father, I knew she’d eventually have two daughters. My memory was of writing it by hand in one of the pile of notebooks I began as journals of one sort or another and then abandoned. I’ve found it perplexing that I’ve never been able to find it.

Yesterday I found it. While sorting through various artifacts in my office, thinning things out before packing to move (date as yet undetermined), I found some gorgeous 20-year-old overhead slides I used in workshops and programs on holding effective meetings. Hoping I could find the original file on my computer, I began digging through back-up folders uploaded from old floppies (remember those?). I never did find the slides, but I found something even better:

I found my dream building file, the one I’ve been looking for. Memory was wrong It was never on paper. It’s beautifully done in workbook format. I remember now that I had visions of publishing that workbook, without my personal content.

Reading over the elements of that dream, I buzzed with excitement. I’m living most of that dream right now. Other elements, like the office and house I describe, exactly match what I recently wrote about the house I hope to find in Austin. The dream document said Seattle, but at this point Austin is a better choice. My daughter has built the free-lance writing business I foresaw, and she does have two young daughters. Nearly 25 years after writing that, we will live near each other.

 So what?
Quite aside from any mystical, metaphysical “laws of attraction” aspects of goal-setting, these documents are jewels for lifewriters.

• They document with laser precision just what we hoped and dreamed for at various points in time.
• They provide a mirror for reflecting on subsequent events. If we were on target as I have been, we can follow the trail of events that led from then to now. If not, we can explore the insurmountable obstacles, how they affect us, and how they shaped our lives.
• They provide a focus for stories and memoir.

Sowing and reaping
It’s never too late to start harnessing the power and fascination of dreams. I can’t guarantee they’ll all come true, but I do guarantee you’ll have a fascinating experience as you consider the possibilities. Although it does work to lose them and find them years later, I suggest you start a journal for this specific purpose and keep track of it. That  might be on paper, but a computer file serves well too. Just back it up and file it where you’ll be able to find it again.

Write now: write down a dream of life as you’d like it to be at some point in the future. Give your inner critic a sleeping pill and call in your muse to help you be creative. Be precise and specific about describing details that make it real. Include whimsical elements like that stream. Include emotions and feelings you expect to have. Don’t worry about editing or spelling. Just write it all down. It’s worked for me to file this stuff away and forget about it. Most gurus have you post it on your wall and keep it in sight to keep its power alive. Follow your instincts on this. Years from now, you’ll find it again and have something to remember, write about, and maybe share with your family and the world.

Image credit: Ruben Alexander

Check Your Rhythm

Sometimes you read a story and know something is “off,” but you can’t put your pencil on it. Chances are, the story’s rhythm or “music” is the problem. Most people are aware that rhythm is an inherent facet of poetry, especially classic, rhyming poetry. But if you went to the mall and asked random people if they thought stories have rhythm, the typical person would give you that lopsided, raised-eyebrow look that implies she thinks you’re nuts. 

“What do you mean, rhythm in a story? Like in a song? Foot-tapping rhythm with a beat?”

 “Any kind.” You shrug.

“Well . . . no. There’s poems and songs. That stuff has rhythm. Stories, not so much. No. Stories don’t have rhythm. They’re just plain old talking like people talk."

The fact is, plain old talking does have rhythm, at least when thoughts flow freely. Even the occasional “uhm” or stumble is rhythmic. For example, read aloud the following two sentence excerpt from a YouTube interview between Kathleen Pooler and Susan Weidner. As you read, tap your fingers rhythmically, like a ticking clock or a metronome.

Kathleen: How was writing this story, uh, how did it differ from writing your memoirs?

Susan: Well, it was quite different because I was allowed to use my imagination.

Read these lines aloud again and tap your fingers rhythmically, like a ticking clock or a metronome as you read. Broken into even beats, Kathleen’s sentence sounds like this:

|How was |writing this |story, |uh, |how did it |differ from |writing your |memoirs? 

Susan’s words have a similar flow:

|Well, |it was quite |different be|cause I was |allowed to |use my |imagi|nation. 

Not only are these sentences rhythmic, but they’re streamlined, with no extra words. Contrast this with a sentence from an early draft of written story.

Nobody could refute the certainty of the arrival of furious storms every winter that lashed at houses built out of solid rock that was hewn out of the very bedrock we all lived on . . . 

My head spins and my tongue tangles when I try to read that sentence aloud. I’m reminded of riding on an unpaved mountain road. If this sentence occurred on the first page, I would set this story aside immediately. My sense of things is that if this sentence were actually spoken, it would sound more like this:

Nobody could refute the certain arrival of furious storms every winter. They lashed out at our solid stone houses built from the bedrock we lived on. 

 That revision still isn’t going to gain fame. I’d consider the underlying thought and smooth it even more:

Everyone knew we had killer storms every winter that seemed like they’d wash our solid stone houses off the bedrock we lived on. 

Even that sentence may need more work within the context of the larger story.

Tips for giving your stories rhythm 

• Trim extra words. 


• Clear out the dead would. 


• Question every use of “that.”


•  Eliminate the word “very” and related intensifiers in favor of precise language.


• Use scrap paper and a pen to write the simplest possible version of what you are trying to say in a complicated sentence or passage. Use that to simplify your draft.


• Read sentence and stories aloud! Notice where your tongue stumbles and follow its lead as you edit.


• Read them aloud to a group. You’ll notice where your tongue stumbles, but you may not notice that what your spoken words don’t match what’s on the page. Again, follow the lead of your spoken words. That’s what you really mean, and what sounds best.

Write now: read through the draft of a new story or an older one you haven't seen for awhile and find sentences with awkward rhythm. Use the tips above to smooth them out.

Monkeys, Jackasses and Wispy Mist

In her blog post, “Jackasses & Monkeys – Inner demons of writing,” Carol Bodensteiner reveals that her inner writing demons take the form of monkeys. She expresses relief on learning that others, such as Kimberly  Brock, have similar problems. In my opinion, Kimberly’s challenge is worse. She is beset by Jackasses.

Carol invited readers to share their experiences. I also have demons, as I believe we all do. Like Carol, I battle monkeys, described by Zen masters as Monkey Mind. My monkeys are different from Carol’s. Mine swing through the trees at random, taking my thoughts along with them, rendering me incapable of staying focused. They dangle distractions, and they're a hindrance all the time, not just while writing.

Look this up NOW! Right NOW! one shouts while I'm unloading the dishwasher or chopping celery for salad. When the monkey shouts, I enter a state of paralyzing need to obey. I crave the closure of filling that gap. Sometimes I return to chopping celery, but laundry may remain unfolded for days, a blog post unfinished for ... maybe ever.

Jackasses? I’ve known a few of those, but they don’t live in my head. For me the voices Kimberly attributes to jackasses are more subtle and indirect. Much harder to quantify. Mine are formless entities. They whisper from wisps of mist. "It's not good enough. It's shallow," they whisper. But wait. I reread my work and it is shallow. It isn’t ready for print. Those critical voices protect me. They drive me to more research on craft, to yet another round of edits. My whispering wisps protect me. I cherish them.

Tips for silencing monkeys, jackasses and wispy mist

1. Talk to them – ask them for their advice. If they tell you to work on your craft, they speak true. Heed them. If they tell you you’ll never succeed, you’ll never be good enough … tell them firmly to zip their lips and stuff them into their crates.
2. Talk to others – like Carol Bodensteiner, you may find it a huge relief to compare notes with fellow writers and learn that they battle the same demons. Compare notes on coping strategies.
3. Write stories about them – especially stories that poke fun at them. Write yourself as the shero of your own story (or hero, as the case may be). Have fun with these stories. Be silly, be bold, be outrageous. Smash and bash away.
4. Feed them cookies and make friends – because they can be helpful, as mine have turned out to be. Just don’t eat the cookies yourself. It is not true that writing success is directly proportional to body mass.
5. Call their bluffs – by succeeding in spite of them and yourself. Just write. And edit. And get lots of feedback. And then publish or share your work with legions of others. Those critters will get the message.

Write now: write a story about your inner demons. What form do they take? What do they sound like? How have you dealt with them? If you haven’t yet neutralized or harnessed their power, imagine that you have and write about that. Post your story in a comment or email me a copy. I’d love to read it.

“I Could Write About My Sex Life”

Soon after I began teaching lifestory writing, I met with a man I knew only slightly, I’ll call him Sam. Sam wanted my advice on how to write his lifestory. I was several years short of sixty,  and this crumpling man in his late eighties. As usual, I suggested he start with a story idea list and asked him what he might want to write about. I sat patiently for what seemed like an hour while he sat silently, slumped in his chair and lost in thought.

Suddenly he seemed suffused with high noon sunshine as his head lifted. A huge smile spread across his pallid, wrinkled face. “I could write about my sex life!” he said, sounding like a child who just spotted the carnival’s cotton candy stand.

I’m embarrassed to admit this – I remember recoiling in shock. I hope that  reaction was confined to my mind and didn’t show on the surface. Age difference was definitely a factor. It’s true that I would have been stunned to hear anyone say this, male or female, but I would have pursued the topic with someone my age. Generational differences made it unthinkable to pursue it with Sam. I knew that I would absolutely not, under any circumstances, want to read about my parents’ sex life, and he was older than my father. I assumed his children would feel the same way. I’m sure a psychologist could have a ball with my reaction.

“You could …” I demurred. “It might be a little hard for your children to read ….” I swallowed and took another breath. “Is there anything else you might write about?” He visibly deflated. 

The meeting was short. I never saw or heard from Sam again.

I’d answer him differently today. I’d return his radiant smile, maybe wink, and encourage him to write about those lovely memories that obviously gave him great pleasure. He could celebrate the good times and perhaps grieve their decline. I would still alert him to the fact that his children may not want to read those accounts and remind him that he should discuss things with his wife before sharing with anyone else. But I would definitely encourage him to write for himself.

I have no idea how deeply Sam was thinking of delving into those memories or how much detail he might have included. Although I’ve never had a student or writing group member focus a story specifically on sex, some stories do call for at least a mention of the topic. In such cases, observing good taste and privacy while still providing enough detail to retain authenticity can be a challenge. I’ll save that discussion for another time.

For now, suffice it to say that writing about your sex life will bomb if you aren’t comfortable doing so. Freewriting and journaling are the best way to come to grips with your memories and feelings and the heart of your story and message, whatever the topic. Write for yourself first, then make decisions about what, if anything, to share with whom.

Write now: Not everyone has or had a delightful sex life. If you do or did, write about the joy it’s brought you. Tell how it made your life fuller and better. If you don’t or didn’t, write about that. In either case, write privately. In a journal. On scrap paper. On a keyboard. Write freely, bravely. Try lots of points of view. Write about love and lovers. Write about fantasies and spurned pursuits. Write about how and when you learned the facts of life and all you know now. Explore what turns you on and anything else that comes to mind. I guarantee you’ll learn something, and it may be downright pleasurable and fun.

If you wish your writing would spontaneously ignite when you’re done and it doesn’t, head for a fireplace or shredder. If a piece passes the blush test, consider sharing, with trusted friends or your writing group first, then openly.