“Sentences are a little like purses. . . .”

Before you publish your memoir, analyze the quality of your writing. You’ll probably need to polish your skills in the craft and art of writing. To help you with that task, today we’ll look at how to fashion your sentences.

First, let’s acknowledge this:

“Very few sentences come out right the first time,

or even the second or third time.”

(William Zinsser, Writing About Your Life)

As you write, believe this:

rewriting is not punishment.

Even pros and experienced writers

revise their sentences numerous times.

For the sake of your readers, commit to crafting good sentences. Why? First, you want readers to enjoy your story and, second, you also want them to understand your message. 

“Just as there are arts of weaving and fly-fishing and dancing, so there are arts of sentence making,” write Collette and Johnson, authors of Finding Common Ground, A Guide to Personal, Professional, and Public Writing.

“. . . Writing is a partnership with the reader. . . . The way you put your stories together counts a good deal toward how your reader will understand what you say.

“You can . . . arrange, rearrange, or prearrange them to suit particular purposes.

“The writer shapes the sentence to indicate how readers should construe the meaning . . . . Building a sentence, then, is a way of defining and specifying meaning, of focusing a reader’s attention. . . .” (Collette and Johnson, Finding Common Ground; emphasis mine)

As we begin to scrutinize sentences, Bill Roorback points out that “sentences are a little like purses: They come in various sizes and can hold a little or a lot.” (Writing Life Stories)

So, let’s start by looking at those of the smaller size:

Short sentences:

“ . . . In artful prose, [sentence] length is controlled and varied. Some stylists write short sentences to strike a note of urgency.” (Joseph F. Williams, Style: Ten Lessons in Clarity and Grace)

“ . . . Short sharp sentences increase tension in a scene.” (Lynda R. Young)

For example, here’s how Kristen Welch writes short sentences to express tension and urgency:

“She came to us alone, with a baby she didn’t want stirring in her womb.

“Orphaned at a young age, she wandered this earth unloved and unwanted.

“Charity came to us broken, detached, angry.

“Outwardly she pushed others away, isolating herself through pain, distancing her heart from love.

“But we loved her anyway. We set firm boundaries and we loved. We prayed. We fasted. We begged God to draw her close. We shed so many tears over this child having a child.

“We feared for her unborn son. How would this detached girl attach to a baby she never wanted?

“He was born to an angry mother. She didn’t want him.

“And we didn’t know what to do. . . .” (Kristen Welch, We Are THAT family)

Sentence fragments:

Consider writing short sentences here and there in your vignettes, but also think about writing sentence fragments—incomplete sentences and thoughts.

Grammatically, sentence fragments are incorrect, but “There are occasions when a sentence fragment can be stylistically effective, exactly what you want and no more. ‘Harrison Ford has said that he would be more than willing to take on another Indiana Jones project. In a New York Minute.’ As long as you are clearly in control of the situation, this is permissible, but [doing so] depends on the circumstances.” (CCC Foundation, emphasis mine)

Breaking the rules occasionally with sentence fragments can add punch to your writing. Or sizzle. Or grief.

Next week we’ll look at long sentences

but for now, examine your rough drafts

and look for sentences that need a little spiffing up.

Where can you write “quick, breathless utterances” (Williams),

like Kristen Welch did, to create tension,

urgency, drama, or emotion?

Where might sentence fragments

work even more effectively than complete sentences?

And throughout, ask yourself:

Will readers understand

what I’m trying to get across?

Have I written each sentence clearly?

And remember, rewriting is not punishment.

(Smile!) 

Sharing your stories with your family: The most important job in the world

Do you worry about influences on your kids, grandkids, and great-grands?—influences that lure them away from your best hopes and dreams and prayers for them?

Less-than-stellar influencers bombard today’s young people, enticing them to live and believe in ways that could diminish them morally, spiritually, personally, mentally, and relationally.

Today’s kids are listening to the stories of movie stars, athletes, singers, podcasters, comedians, the press, educators, politicians, authors, friends, and paranormal characters in books and movies.

If you worry about the stories your kids, grandkids, and great-grands listen to, how about telling them your stories?

There’s a good reason the Bible is full of stories. There’s a reason Jesus told parables.

Never doubt the power of stories!

Kathy Edens writes,

“Research proves that stories and anecdotes

help people retain information better.

Forbes reported most people only remember

about 5-10% of statistics you cite.

But when you accompany your stats with a story,

the retention rate bounces up to 65-70%.”

Wow! Did you know that? That’s impressive. Read that again!

For example, if you want to teach your grandkids the importance of telling the truth, you can tell them, “It’s important to always tell the truth, and you can get yourself into tons of trouble if you lie,” but your words will probably go in one ear and out the other.

OR, you can tell them a story—a story of how you, or someone you know, learned the importance of honesty, and the consequences of dishonesty.

Your stories can teach your kids, grandkids, and great-grands many important things—about keeping a commitment, being faithful, working hard, being kind.

Your stories can teach them to handle tragedies with tenacity and faith.

Your stories can help them choose courage over fear, generosity over stinginess, compassion over meanness, thankfulness over ingratitude, and so much more.   

 “The world’s greatest wisdom passes through stories,” writes Kathy Edens.

Think about this:

The world’s greatest wisdom

can flow through your stories!

If you’re still not convinced of your stories’ importance, here’s something else for you. It’s staggering, really.

In fact, this is a big deal.

In his New York Times article, “The Stories that Bind Us,” Bruce Feiler explores, from a secular perspective, what makes families healthy, resilient, happy, and functional.

He writes that Dr. Sara Duke, a psychologist working with children, discovered that while all families have struggles, “The [kids] who know a lot about their families tend to do better when they face challenges,” she says.

Fascinated with Dr. Sara’s findings, her husband, Marshall, also a psychologist, and his colleague, Robyn Fuvish, did their own research on how much individual kids knew stories of their family’s history and its members—parents and grandparents, for example—and how much they knew of their family’s struggles as well as its triumphs.

They came to what Feiler calls “an overwhelming conclusion: The more children knew about their family’s history, the stronger their sense of control over their own lives, the higher their self-esteem and the more successfully they believed their families functioned.”

Shortly after that research, the United States experienced the attack on September 11, 2001, and Dr. Duke and his team checked again on the children they’d studied. None was directly impacted by the terrorist attack yet each one, like the rest of us, still suffered trauma. Nevertheless, “Once again . . .” Dr. Duke found, “the ones who knew more about their families proved to be more resilient, meaning they could moderate the effects of stress.”

Don’t miss the rest of Feiler’s article, “The Stories that Bind Us.” You’ll find that youngsters who felt the most connected to their families—through stories of both ups and downs, and of their determination to survive and thrive—were the kids who could handle challenges and overcome obstacles in healthy ways.

There’s a good reason Jesus said,

“Go tell your family everything God has done for you.”

(Luke 8:39)

That means you need to tell your stories!

And this is important: Avoid writing stories that are dry. Or dreary. Or preachy—avoid a “holier-than-thou” attitude.

DO write stories that include humor, adventure, mystery, romance, pets, childhood escapades, teenage pranks, athletic competitions, parenthood, hard work—the list could go on and on.

“We are storytellers,” writes Carolina Hinojosa-Cisneros. “With the help of God, it is up to us to steward our calling and steward it well.”

Think about this:

What stories have been entrusted to you?

And perhaps even more important:

Who has God entrusted to you?

And are you stewarding them—caring for them—

to the very best of your ability?

“. . . Everyone needs writers—

every child, every woman, every man—

to bring out these hidden truths

that lie dormant in us and help them

live what truly matters in life.

Writers have all got to work hard

at this occupation—

for the glory of people

and our most cherished beliefs and ideas.

To fight to ignore all the distractions

and take the time to share our stories

and unpack their meaning and messages. . . .

It’s the most important job in the world.”

Mick Silva

Be good stewards of your experiences and stories.

Do what Jesus said: Go tell your family all God has done for you.

Your stories could be life-changing for those who read them.

On vulnerability, success, failure, and hope

Let’s read that last part again. “Editors don’t want [and I add: readers don’t want] stories of our great triumphs or successes. Readers identify with failure and find hope in rising above mistakes.”

And then look at this again: “Everything pivots around our vulnerability” (Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk). How do you feel inside when you read those words?

My writer friend, Sharon Lippincott, author of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, says:

“Easier to say than do, but Amen to this. . . .

Be brave, y’all.

Write the real story.”

Sharon’s right. It’s painful to be vulnerable with our readers. It can be heart-rending to write about our shortcomings and failures.

In fact, it’s often even harder to re-live those experiences in order to write them.

But that’s where the gold is.

That’s where we discover

we’ve grown from the experience, we’ve matured,

we’ve become different, better people.

And that’s what readers want from you.

Memoir is all about transformation.

Write your stories.

You might inspire someone

who has also failed and longs to transform—

to hope that he, like you,

can grow and mature

and live as a different, better person.

What a privilege!

Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk have retired 

but you can still find them on Facebook.

What stories could they tell?

“Stories are all around us,” writes Glenda Bonin.

“They reside in people, places and things, and are waiting to be discovered.”

So true.

Not just stories: God-and-you stories.

Take a fresh look at possessions you could never give away or throw out.

What do you store in a special drawer or safe deposit box?

What would you stash in a safe place if tornado sirens sounded? What would you grab if your smoke alarm went off?

Look around and identify something you’ve owned for years and use a lot.

If those items could talk, what would they tell?

I think about that question—a lot.

A few years ago I gave away a set of dishes to a family that lost everything in a fire. I tucked a note inside that read:

“I bought these dishes in Africa and we used them during our seventh and eighth years there, and here in the States all these years since then. While you use them, ask yourself, ‘If these dishes could talk, what stories would they tell?’”

Some day I want to write—I need to write—stories based on my old blue American Tourister carry-on bag (a gift from Schiefelbeins in 1993—thanks Rick and Marilyn!).

That bag has traveled with us for 27 years now—from this planet’s most primitive places to the world’s most sophisticated cities. What stories it could tell! Not just stories, but God-and-me-stories.

What stories could my husband’s grandmother’s aluminum colander tell? My mother-in-law passed it on to me 53 years ago. And yes, it could tell stories—stories about five generations so far. My daughter has asked me to pass it on to her eventually. Who knows how many more generations will tell stories about it?

Look at your dining room table. Ask yourself, “If it could talk, what stories would it tell?” (Click to read two of my posts, Vera Bachman’s Table, and Your dinner table memories.)

“If these old boots could talk, what stories would they tell?” (See my recent post about my safari boots at The dust of Africa had penetrated my skin pores and entered into my soul.)

If your old Bible could talk, what stories would it tell?

What about a photo? A photo album? A book?

A washing machine?

A piece of art? Jewelry? A scarf?

Your dad’s old hat?

Your mother’s old coffee mug?

Your grandmother’s rocking chair?

Your old high school yearbook?

“Don’t be timid about interviewing yourself and others,” continues Glenda.

“A good interviewer asks questions and waits for answers. . . . Listen deeply, allowing as much time as needed for quiet moments of thought. Do not rush in with a new question until you are satisfied that the question has been fully explored.

“It is not unusual for one question to lead to another. . . . These moments are often where the best family stories can be found. . . .” (Glenda Bonin at Storyteller.net)

Remember: while you’ve been using and cherishing those items, God has been alongside you, working in you, working on your behalf.

Stories are all around. 

You don’t need news-making miracles 

to witness God at work. 

He is in your everyday comings and goings.

Oswald Chambers says:

“We look for visions from heaven

and for earth-shaking events to see God’s power.

Yet we never realize that all the time

God is at work in our everyday events. . . .”

Write your stories!

Leave a legacy for your kids, grandkids, 

and great-grands!