Back to Basics: Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry, make ‘em wait

Think back to a time when a story made you cry. What did those tears do to your heart? And your mind? Did you feel a closeness—or at least empathy—toward the author? Did it keep you reading to find out how the story ended?

 

Write your memoir in such a way that makes readers care—about both you and your story.

 

How do you do that? By including sincere emotions.

 

“The heart is always the first target

in telling purposeful stories.

Stories must give listeners [and readers]

an emotional experience. . . .”

(Peter Guber)

 

You bring emotion into your story by following Wilkie Collins’ advice: “Make ‘em cry, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em wait.”

 

Sometimes people wonder why we should make ‘em cry, why we should include emotional stuff surrounding our sorrows and struggles.

 

The reasons to include life’s hard things are many.

 

First, in the process of writing about them, we can find some healing for ourselves. We can look back and recognize:

 

• Often during the worst of times, we learned our most important lessons.
• Difficulties get our attention and give us a holy discontent with things that are not right in our lives.
• Afflictions can be the stuff of turning points and second chances.
• They can make us cling to God.
• They can lead to personal victories.

 

If we resist writing about our heartaches and wounds, it could be that we’re refusing to deal with them.

 

Mick Silva at Higher Purpose Writers addresses that by quoting Adam McHugh:

 

“We are unable to get to the good that God works

because we cannot face the bad that life brings.”

Mick goes on to write, “That's the exact trouble I see so often editing Christian writers—their books are full of characters and situations that attempt to jump over the struggle and pain of life to apply scripture or platitudes and resolve readers’ angst.

“Christians are trained in many churches,” Mick says, “to habitually deny the true emotion and sadness we feel, and many think we're supposed to ‘claim the promises’ and slap a shiny ‘VICTORY’ sticker on. . . .”

Mick advises us to admit how bad things were in our devastating situation because “just accepting that makes it far better than we tend to realize.”

Acknowledging a bad experience opens a door,

inviting us to move toward the deep healing God offers

so we can move forward in life.

Here's the second reason for writing about your painful stuff: Second Corinthians 1:3-4 tell us God the Father comforts us in all our heartaches and afflictions so that in turn we can share the same comfort with others who are also going through difficulties. 

And so, Henri Nouwen is correct:

 

“Our sufferings and pains

are not simply bothersome interruptions

of our lives.”

 

You see, sharing our hardships can benefit readers. When we make ourselves vulnerable and share our agonizing experiences, readers recognize they have something in common with us.

 

Eileen Vorbach Collins writes about the angst she endured in trying to process her child’s suicide and then writing a memoir about it. “How can I be happy to be publishing a book that I wish I could not have written? Writing . . . was sometimes excruciating. Why couldn’t I put it behind me? Why couldn’t I move on?

 

“To write about grief, especially the suicide of a child, feels risky. The stigma is real. Will readers judge me? After all, what . . . kind of mother could I be? My child took her life and I’m capitalizing on it . . . by writing a book. . . .”

 

But then Eileen turned a corner because she realized other people need to know her story:

 

“I can only tell you that when newly bereaved,

I wanted nothing more than to read authentic stories 

by real people

who had survived the most terrible loss imaginable.

Stories that would show me

it was possible to find a place of bearable sorrow.

I hope my stories will do that for someone else.”

 

Eileen’s talking about turning her sorrows into blessings for others. She didn’t want her devastation to be wasted.

 

God can use you to bless others

so your suffering won’t be wasted.

 

Think about what Peter Guber says here:

“. . . Stories can be a stand-in for life,

allowing [us readers] to expand beyond what we could reasonably

squeeze into a lifetime of direct experience. . . .

We can take in the stories of others

who escaped life-threatening situations

without taking on the risk . . .

[and we have] an opportunity to try out solutions.” 

(Peter Guber)

 

When, by sharing our stories, we comfort others with the comfort God has given us, we offer readers experience, healing, wisdom, and choices.

 

“You are a bringer of meaning,” writes Joe Bunting.

 

“Your story should incorporate some joy,” Bunting says. “But pain is the Great Teacher.

 

“By bringing meaning to the pain, you bring meaning to the pain of the world. This is why people need story. They want to know they’re not alone. Others suffer just like them.

 

“They want to know their suffering has a purpose, that there is hope, redemption. . . .

 

“You think you’re just telling a story. But the truth is, you’re bringing life.” (Joe Bunting, The Meaning of Pain)

 

Things that caused you to weep and despair gave you a story to tell for the benefit of others.

 

If you want readers to see

how God brought beauty from your ashes,

they have to see, smell, hear, taste, and feel the ashes with you.

You have to make ‘em cry with you.

 

If you write your memoir well,

you will bring the story to a hope-filled, satisfying resolution.

You will accomplish what Joe Bunting calls “bringing life.”