Have
you made progress in applying “make ‘em cry” to your memoir? I hope so! (Click
on last week’s Make ‘em cry, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em wait.)
If
you’re a writer, or want to be a writer, follow Wilkie Collins’ counsel, “Make
‘em cry, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em wait” because those three keep readers engaged
in your story.
By
“engaged,” I mean that if readers can get into your story,
they
can grasp what you’re offering them.
Yes,
I said, “what you’re offering them.”
Readers
want to get something for themselves from your memoir.
Ron Hutchcraft explained how that can work:
“Often, a major life-storm means a major life-loss of some kind: your health, your income, your future plans, your marriage, your loved one. And that loss leaves a gaping hole. . . .
“But after the storm, you have a choice. Let your loss—and the hole it leaves—define your life from now on. Goodbye, hope.
“Or begin to rebuild your life around that hole. And to rebuild your life on what you've learned from that loss. Now that's a blueprint for hope. From the devastation of one storm comes a new strength to withstand future storms.”
That’s
what you can offer readers:
Tell
them what you ascertained about hope,
and
how you learned that
“from the devastation . . . comes a new
strength
to
withstand the storms.”
You
see, if they recognize they have something in common with you,
they
can find courage and healing and solutions the way you did.
Readers
are looking for the takeaways you extend to them.
Takeaways
are your insights—the lessons you learned—
which
they can apply to their own lives,
gems
you uncovered that will guide them in the future,
a
reason to trust God,
a
better understanding of themselves,
and
a resource for living well.
That
means you must write your story.
But
that means you must re-live the painful parts so that you can write them.
And
today I offer you help with that:
When you’re ready to write—even the blistered parts—Bill Roorbach, in his Writing Life Stories, explains a creative, helpful way to (a) recall situations that made you cry, and then (b) write about them.
Bill
suggests you utilize method writing, a spin-off of method acting.
Here’s
how method acting works:
Before
the curtain rises, the actor remembers an occasion in which he experienced the
emotion he needs to act out. He spends time reliving that emotion so that when
he steps on stage, he’s all wrapped up in the ache or the passion or the anger
and succeeds in playing his part.
Method
writing, then, requires you to step out of the present and into the past. If
you’re writing about a tragic event, take time (set aside time) to remember the
event and relive it so you can rediscover the emotions you felt.
Avoid
over-the-top hysteria
but
be honest in admitting your emotional response.
In
the midst of the reliving, ask yourself:
- What was at stake? What did I have to lose or gain?
- What dreams would never come true?
- At the time, how did I envision my life would never be the same?
- Where would I find courage to live another day?
- What were my fears?
- My hopes?
- My prayers?
When
you’re caught up in the emotion, get it onto paper or computer screen.
Your
“emotion should be so realistic and gripping that the reader can’t help but
feel it too. . .” (Becca Puglisi)
To
paraphrase Larry Brooks, make your readers happy they are not there, yet
grateful to feel what it was like to be you.
Emotion:
That’s how you create a way for readers to join you in your story, to make them
care, to compel them to keep reading, and to find the gems and blessings you’re
offering them.
For now, make 'em cry. In future weeks, we'll make 'em laugh and make 'em wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment