Back to Basics: If you’re discouraged, write “one sentence, one paragraph, and one vignette at a time”

If you’re already writing a memoir, you know the process can be mysterious, intimidating, and discouraging.

 

You have must-write stories for your kids, grandkids, and generations yet unborn.

 

You know those stories—

the ones they need to learn from, to cherish.

Stories that will teach them, nurture them,

give them hope, and strengthen their faith.

Stories that will mold them into good people

with intact hearts and minds.

 

But perhaps you’ve put off writing your memoir because it’s hard to find time, or motivation, or courage, or just the right words.

 

If so, I have good news for you:

 

Your stories could be taking shape

even though you might not realize it.

 

Think about this: A seed of your story,

already planted,

has been swelling and sprouting and growing

while you weren’t taking notice.

 

Stories can be like that.

They can live in hidden corners of your heart

where subconsciously (if not consciously)

you’ve already started assembling your memoir: 

• You’ve been collecting—in your mind, or in writing, or on your computer—ideas,  relevant quotes, or Bible verses.
• You’ve run across old photos or newspaper clippings.
• You heard an old song that stirred up memories.
• You ran into a relative or an old friend.
• You discovered a loved one’s obituary tucked away in a file folder.
• You’ve remembered key events that might have seemed unimportant at the time but that now hold significance.

 

All that has been marinating in the back of your mind and it’s starting to come together.

 

Perhaps you’re more ready

to start writing your memoir than you thought.

The time to write might be any day now.

 

Here’s good advice: Tell yourself you’re only writing a rough draft—which is for your eyes only—and then keep writing.

 

“Write with the door closed,” suggested Stephen King. “Your stuff starts out being just for you. . . ” (On Writing).

 

Your initial attempts

don’t need to be perfect.

Everyone starts with a rough draft.

 

“The first draft is the child’s draft,” writes Anne Lamott, “where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and you can fix it up later. . . ” (Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life).

 

“Small steps are better than no steps,” says Victoria Costello.

 

“Writing memoir might be one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. . . . Feeling overwhelmed comes with the territory.

 

“When you feel that sinking feeling, remember that a memoir is simply a string of personal vignettes. Take small steps and focus on finishing one sentence, one paragraph, and one vignette at a time.”

 

Victoria continues: “Worry about threading the story together later.” (The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Writing a Memoir)

 

Yes, eventually you will spiff up your rough draft:

You will reorganize, revise, and rewrite.

Every writer does! It’s not punishment.

It’s polishing and shining and clarifying

for the sake of your readers.

 

But for now, don’t worry about all that.

Just take small steps, “one sentence,

one paragraph, and one vignette at a time.”

(Victoria Costello)

  

You? Write a memoir? What makes you think you’re so special?

 

Maybe you hear niggling, little whispers:

 

You? Write a memoir?

What makes you think you’re so special?

 

If that sounds like you, you’ll identify here with Chip MacGregor.

 

Chip sensed God wanted him to write about what He had done for him—but he felt unqualified.

 

“All I saw was a very tattered, frayed thread, broken and retied in a number of places.”

 

You know the feeling. You might be asking yourself,

 

“Who am I that I should write my stories?

I’ve made more than a few mistakes,

and besides, I’m a nobody.

I’m not a Billy Graham

or an Elizabeth Elliot.

I’m not a famous Bible teacher or author.

What could I be thinking?”

 

But Chip—bless his heart—although he was all too aware of his shortcomings, he also recognized the “tattered, frayed thread, broken and retied in a number of places” actually “wrapped around the entire story. It was the thread of redemption.”

 

Yesss! You know what I say so often here at SM 101:

 

Write your God-and-you stories

not because you are so great,

but because God is so great.

 

Chip continues, “. . . [W]hat qualifies you to tell your story is your experience of redemption.”

 

Chip and you and I can, and must, write our stories of redemption.

 

Redemption refers to the forgiveness of our sins because of God’s grace. Romans 3:23-24 acknowledges that all of us are flawed, we all have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God, and yet we are justified by His grace as a gift, a free gift of God. It’s because of His never-ending love for each of us.

Our appropriate response is: “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your wonders of old. I will ponder your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds” (Psalm 77: 11-12).

 

Your job, then, is to remember, and then write about, everyday events and relationships, about babies and teenagers and grandparents, Boy Scouts and Home Ec and your most embarrassing date, best friends and bullies and bigots.

 

Write about learning to drive, or swim, or cook, or kiss. Write about funerals and weddings and heartbreak, about honesty and lies, about money and taxes, about mowing lawns and making beds and cleaning toilets.

 

Within them all, dig deep and find the threads of redemption.

 

Peel off layers one by one until you find glorious, sobbing, humbling, joy-filled, life-saving redemption.

 

Listen: The stories of famous Christians and prominent modern-day heroes of the faith are important—but not because those people are so great. Each of them admits to being deeply flawed. Their stories matter because God is so great.

 

It’s not what they did—it’s what God did.

 

Don’t miss this:

 

Chip points out that your story of redemption

is “the journey your readers want to take.

And if we can whittle down our lives

to reveal how God has brought redemption to us,

readers will be inspired to believe it may happen to them.”

 

“Show the purpose behind the pain,” he says, “and you may bring hope to many lives.”

 

That’s it! Our hearts long to inspire others to hang in there, to be assured that God is for them, He loves them, and He has His own stories of redemption for them.

 

Don’t underestimate the power of your story.

Just one memoir can change lives

—one life, or a hundred thousand lives—

maybe for eternity.

 

“. . .  God is telling the story of redemption,” writes Diana Trautwein. “And God is using us to help tell that story. He invites us right up on stage and says, ‘Partner with me. Tell my story in your vernacular, in your specific situation.”

 

Write your God-and-you stories, your stories of redemption—not because of who you are, but because of who God is.

 

Back to Basics: Do you know where you’re going with your memoir?

 

Your memoir’s ending should be its most powerful part so even while you’re writing your book’s middle parts, begin planning its ending.

 

It might seem strange to work on your conclusion before finishing the main body, but think of this:

 

“If you don’t know where you’re going,

you might not get there.”

Yogi Berra

 

You don’t want that to happen!

 

Here’s what I recommend: Throughout your writing, know approximately where you’re going and build toward that ending. Doing so will help you stay on message and more likely bring everything full circle.

 

Having said that, though, I need to warn you:

 

Many, if not most, stories can take a direction

writers might not have envisioned

at the outset.

 

Don’t worry if that happens to you.

 

After you’ve drafted the bulk of your memoir, your overall message and conclusion might be different than you originally envisioned, but that’s okay.

It’s better to focus on where you think you’ll end up,

rather than to drift, directionless.

 

Here’s a helpful perspective: You probably won’t pin down the perfected version of your ending until you’ve written all your chapters and have identified and refined the conclusions and resources you hope readers will take away from your story.

 

For now, as a general guide for you, get out a piece of paper and answer the following:

• The reason I’m writing my memoir is ________.
• What do I want readers to think as a result of reading my story?
• What do I want people to feel when they’ve finished reading it?
• How do I want them to live because they read my story?
• The most important message I want readers to take away from my memoir is _________.

Keep such points in mind while you write. Then conclude your book in a way that people will long remember it, learn from it, grow from it.

 

Memoirs are so much more than entertainment.

 

Your story matters.

Memoirs guide, influence, encourage,

inspire, motivate, and empower.

They can bring healing.

They can turn lives around.

Memoirs can even save lives.

 

“Write what should not be forgotten.” 

(Isabel Allende)

 

Back to Basics: Pinpoint the “So what?” of your memoir

 

“. . . Memoirs are much more than memories put to paper,” writes Amber Lea Starfire. “Without reflection, you do not have a memoir—you have a vignette or series of vignettes that describes events, but does not imbue the events with meaning and relevance. Meaning and relevance come from reflection.” 

 

The beauty of your memoir will shine brightest when you discern the greater significance of your experiences.

 

In other words, you’ll need to pinpoint the “So what?” of key happenings—the crises, victories, surprises, and discoveries.

 

Ponder this:

 

Your memoir is about happenings that impacted you: 

you lost your job

—or after overcoming obstacles, 

you landed the job of your dreams;

your house burned down; 

you made the college varsity team;

your child died; 

you survived cancer.

 

But those are on the surface of what happened.

Your story is higher and deeper and wider than that.

 

Promise yourself to avoid simplistic “and they lived happily ever after” fluff.

 

When writing about pivotal events in your life,

 step aside to write segments of reflection to share with readers.

 

Before you can write those parts, though, you must be willing to make time to examine, to decode, to scrutinize. Be willing to rethink, to question your assumptions and conclusions.

 

Probing and questioning and unraveling will help you discover significance you might have missed earlier.

 

Discovering that can be life-changing for you

as well as for your readers.

 

And so, for the benefit of (1) yourself and (2) your readers, take plenty of time to discover the heart and soul and richness of the events in your story.

 

But keep in mind that

you might not know the real significance

until you’ve written your story

and have taken time to mull it over.

The process can take days, months, or even years.

 

For example, when I wrote my second memoir, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir, after penning one specific event, I wrote a couple of my observations and lessons about that incident.

 

After writing other sections of my memoir, I came back to that story and, to my surprise, I noticed something I’d overlooked before—a pattern in my life. I discovered additional insights that shed light on my habit of fearing God was untrustworthy.

 

That discovery was a turning point in my life with God.

 

That’s what I meant at the beginning of today’s post: The beauty and value of memoir shine brightest when the author seriously reflects on the relevance of his or her experiences—and shares that with readers.

 

After you’ve written a vignette, pinpoint its “So what?” Peel off layers until you can answer these questions:

• Why was that event so important to me?
• Why does this memory stand out when I’ve forgotten so many others?
• What was going on beneath the surface?
• What patterns did I discover about myself—patterns I hadn’t noticed before?
• How did the experience lead me to change my life?
• How would my values, goals, perspectives, and relationships, be different if the event had not happened?

 

But wait! It gets even better!

 

Recognizing God’s involvement in your life

transforms you and your faith for the future.

 

And God also uses your stories to bless, heal,

teach, and encourage your readers.

 

Looking back now, what did you learn about God? Write about how He was:

• working behind the scenes,
• managing,
• directing,
• choreographing,
• and arranging the details to carry out His best plans for your life.

 

Do you now have a better understanding of His active presence in your life?

 

How did the experience strengthen your faith for future challenges?

 

To what new place did God lead you?

 

How did He shake you up, change your mind, melt your heart, revise your goals, and make a new person of you?

 

So, get out your rough drafts:

• unravel,
• examine,
• untangle,
• pore over,
• analyze,
• sort out,
• discover.

 

You might be asking, “Once I pinpoint my “So what,” how do I write about it?

 

Victoria Costello and I offer you the following tips:

 

“Many memoir writers in workshops I’ve taught,” writes Victoria, “encounter trouble with the reflective voice. . . . If it’s a stumbling block for you, here are some phrases that can help you into a reflective voice:

 

“There must have been. . . . Only later did I realize. . . . There was no way to know then. . . . The way I see it now. . . . It has taken me 10, 20, 30 years to understand that. . . .” (The Idiot’s Guide to Writing a Memoir)

 

Below I’ve listed additional reflective phrases you can use:

 

I couldn’t have put it into words back then, but now. . . .

It would be years before I understood that. . . .

I didn’t understand it at the time, but. . . .

When I remember those events, I. . . .

If only I’d known back then that. . . .

Ten years later I would ask myself. . . .

 

Search your heart for the deeper lessons

within your stories.

Only then can you pass on those treasures

to your readers.

 

They’re looking for them, you know.