If
you’re just starting to write your memoir, I have important advice for you.
Don’t
do what a friend of mine did. When he began his memoir, he started by writing
about the most traumatic year of his life. Whoa!
I’ve seen other people begin by
writing super-painful stuff, too, only to become overwhelmed all over again
with the devastation—and soon they gave up writing altogether. Don’t let that
happen to you!
Please
hear this: Begin your memoir by writing your easy stories—the happy stories,
the funny incidents, the fascinating experiences. That way you can ease your way into both writing and the reflecting
that memoir is.
My
heart wants you to fall in love with
remembering
and
pondering
and
discovering all the good stuff you didn’t recognize in the past,
and
with making sense of what used to mystify you,
and
with writing
and choosing just the right words
to fashion your story as
a gift for others to read.
Keep
in mind that you don’t need to write your chapters/vignettes in the same order
they will appear in your finished memoir. Write them in any order that’s
easiest for you. Later you can organize them in the best way.
For now, give yourself permission to start with easy stories. Tackle your hard stories later.
Also,
keep this in mind: Even if you’re not physically putting your painful story
into words (with pen and ink or on a computer screen), you are working on the
story. I can’t explain how that works but, behind the scenes, your heart and
brain are working on how to write your troubling story.
So, let your heartache marinate for a few more weeks or months. One day you’ll be vacuuming the car, or playing catch with your grandson, or folding laundry when out of the blue, your heart and brain will speak to you (or maybe it’ll be God who speaks to you—I’d like to think it’s Him), and that voice will offer insights into your hurtful experience. Listen, and jot down notes to yourself: You’ll be mining treasures. Later you can use those notes to compose your difficult story’s rough draft.
Remember this, too: Your rough draft is for your eyes only. Write it all
Work out the pain—
work through the pain—
by writing with God beside you.
Wrestle
with God
and
with yourself
as
you write.
Go
ahead and cry.
Why?
Because
God can bring healing
through
the process of writing.
And
be gentle with yourself, extend grace to yourself: Reliving those emotions and
writing those scenes and conversations can be overwhelming.
I
know of no anguish-free way to get through that writing process, but I can
encourage you with this:
Write
your story as a prayer to God
and
He can use the process of writing
to
help you make sense of events that
knocked
the air out of you,
left
you broken,
confused,
weary,
hopeless—
maybe
even paralyzed—
and
He can help you work through your grief.
If you’ll give it the needed time and if you’ll peel back enough layers and dig deep enough, writing your stories can lead to new insights, to answers that too long evaded you, and to resolution—to getting un-stuck so you can move on to healing and forgiveness and peace and hope for the future. Writing your story changes you.
If you stick with it, at some point you'll find the most profound, redeeming part of writing your story:
- You'll discover that God was beside you all the while, bringing you people and opportunities and Bible verses and Bible studies and sermons, and working out His good plans—many details you probably didn't recognize in the midst of the incident, or saw only dimly, and
- you'll also discern how far you've come, how much you've healed.
- That, in turn, makes you overflow with gratitude toward God,
- and that solidifies your relationship with Him.
Mick Silva says it this way: “I’ve discovered that . . . protecting and preserving
our stories is about discovering God’s story.” I call that your “God-and-you
story.”
In
that way, writing a memoir can be a journey of personal healing—even if you
originally set out to write it for others.
And
this is important: At some point, you’ll revise your manuscript. Your first
draft, that for-your-eyes-only draft, will remain what it is. But use that
rough material to craft a rewrite of your memoir for others to read.
Let
God transform you through writing that painful first draft, and afterward, your
God-and-you story can help others heal.
P.
S. Did you read Tuesday’s post about Kathy Pooler’s experience writing her
memoir? If you missed it, click on “Unveiling painful truths and moving to the other side of pain.” Since most memoirists must write about something painful,
you don’t want to miss Kathy’s wisdom and encouragement.
