Writing about your hardships and heartaches

 

You’ve had your share of heartaches. Maybe it seems you’ve had more than your share.

 

I know the feeling.

 

In the midst of our sufferings, we rarely find any good. After all, we thought those things might kill us, or at least leave us permanently scarred.

 

But later—ah, later—can we take another look?

 

C. S. Lewis observed that “Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny. . . .”

 

Think about it:

 

What did your hardships prepare you for?

 

(And don’t for a moment think that you

are not extraordinary!)

 

Stand back and mull over—analyze—

the pain and sorrow you’ve experienced.

 

Is it possible they served a good purpose?

 

You’ll find added inspiration from Frederick Buechner in his Wishful Thinking:

 

“The grace of God means something like:

‘Here is your life.

You might never have been, but you are,

because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.

 

Here is the world.

Beautiful and terrible things will happen.

Don’t be afraid.

I am with you.’”

 

In your memoir, tell readers how God brought beauty from ashes, joy from mourning, and praise in place of despair (see Isaiah 61:3).

 

Write those stories as an act of worship.

God will use your experiences, your words,

and your message to bring hope to others.

Believe it!

 

“Before you can write clearly, you have to be able to think clearly”

You labor and toil to write your memoir and place it in the hands of others. I know you do—because I’ve done it myself. Twice. I want to encourage you: If you persevere, in the end, you’ll find your effort worth it!

 

Remember significant motivations for telling your story: You want to bless your readers in any number of ways—you want your story to inspire them in their lives:

• to never give up, never quit fighting, and always hope
• to make good choices and be trustworthy people of integrity
• to speak up when something’s not right
• to always love, always forgive, and always extend grace
• to grow in their faith
• to laugh and love—to love God and others. 

The list goes on and on.

 

But all that depends on whether they can understand—really understand—your message. That’s why lately we’ve been talking about clarity. We need to write clearly and concisely if we want readers to (a) read our memoirs and (b) understand them—to get all the richness and wisdom and blessing out of them.

That means you and I need to find—have a good grip on—that clarity ourselves first.

Sometimes that’s a problem.

I’ve read thousands of passages

written by others in rough draft form

and it’s very revealing. And convicting.

Because here’s the deal: In reading someone else’s writing, we spot all the gaps in communication, the ambiguities, the words and sentences that leave us confused.

When that happens, I stop and re-read sentences, paragraphs, and maybe even pages, trying to make sense of the writer’s message, trying to figure out what his point is.

Here’s what I’ve learned: The writer doesn’t always know what he’s trying to say. (And by the way, that makes it pretty much impossible for me to edit or critique the person’s writing.)

Jesse Hines says it this way: “Before you can write clearly, you have to be able to think clearly. A big reason [writers fail to convey] their message is that they were not focused on a clear message. Good writing usually stems directly from clear thinking.”

Ask yourself, then, “Am I thinking clearly?”

• Do you know the point of the paragraph you’re writing? What purpose does it serve?
• Where do you want it to take your readers—that is, does it take readers from one significant point to the next significant point? In the right order?
• Does the passage hold relevance for the main point of the larger vignette or experience?

 

If you’re confused, your readers will be confused, too.

Outlining your paragraphs

(the ideas and points within each)

should help you think more clearly,

rearrange words and sentences, and delete others.

Figuring out what you want to say is only the first step. Next, you need to write with clarity.

“Take great pains to be clear,” wrote C.S. Lewis. “Remember that though you [can] start by knowing what you mean, the reader doesn’t. . . . It is terribly easy just to forget that you have not told the reader something he wants to know—the whole picture is so clear in your own mind that you forget that it isn’t the same in his.” (C.S. Lewis, Writing Advice, “To a Schoolgirl in America”)

Think clearly, write clearly.

  

“Before you can write clearly, you have to be able to think clearly”

You’re slaving away to get your memoir in the hands of others. I know you are laboring, toiling, grinding away—because I’ve done it myself. Twice. It’s a lot of work but if you persevere, in the end, you’ll find your effort so worth it! 

One motivation for telling your story is this: You want to bless your readers in any number of ways—you want your story to inspire them in their lives:

• to never give up, never quit fighting, and always hope
• to make good choices and be trustworthy people of integrity
• to speak up when something’s not right
• to always love, always forgive, and always extend grace
• to grow in their faith
• to laugh and love—to love God and others

 The list goes on and on. 

But all that depends on whether they can understand—really understand—your message. That’s why lately we’ve been talking about clarity. We need to write clearly and concisely if we want readers to (a) read our memoirs and (2) understand them—to get all the richness and wisdom and blessing out of them. 

That means you and I need to find—have a good grip on—that clarity ourselves first. Sometimes that’s a problem. I’ve read thousands of passages written by others in rough draft form and it’s very revealing. And convicting. 

Because here’s the deal: It’s easy to read someone else’s writing and spot all the gaps in communication, the confusion, the words and sentences that leave me confused. 

When that happens, I stop and re-read sentences, paragraphs, and maybe even pages, trying to make sense of the writer’s message, trying to figure out what his point is. 

It often comes down to this: The writer doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. (And by the way, that makes it pretty much impossible for me to edit or critique the person’s writing.) 

Jesse Hines says it this way: “Before you can write clearly, you have to be able to think clearly. A big reason [writers fail to convey] their message is that they were not focused on a clear message. Good writing usually stems directly from clear thinking.” 

Ask yourself, then, “Am I thinking clearly?” 

Do you know the point of the paragraph you’re writing? (Click on What's the point?) What purpose does it serve? Where do you want it to take your readers—that is, does it take readers from one significant point to the next significant point? Does the passage hold relevance for the main point of the larger vignette or experience? 

If you’re confused, your readers will be confused, too. Outlining your paragraphs (and the ideas and points within each) should help you think more clearly, rearrange words and sentences, and delete others. 

Figuring out what you want to say is only the first step. Next, you need to write with clarity.

“Take great pains to be clear,” wrote C.S. Lewis. “Remember that though you [can] start by knowing what you mean, the reader doesn’t. . . . It is terribly easy just to forget that you have not told the reader something he wants to know—the whole picture is so clear in your own mind that you forget that it isn’t the same in his.” (C.S. Lewis, Writing Advice, “To a Schoolgirl in America”) 

So, there you have it for today: Think clearly, write clearly.

 

 

Tuesday Tidbit: Your hardships and heartaches

You’ve had your share of adversities. Maybe it seems you’ve had more than your share.

C. S. Lewis observed that “Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny. . . .” What did your hardships prepare you for? (And don’t for a moment think that you and your life are not extraordinary!)

Stand back and contemplate—ponder, wonder about, mull over, reflect, analyze—the hardships you’ve experienced. Is it possible they served a good purpose?

In the midst of our sufferings, we rarely find any good. But later—ah, later—maybe we can discover blessings within those heartaches, those things we thought, at the time, might kill us, or at least leave us permanently scarred.

You’ll find added inspiration from Frederick Buechner in his Wishful Thinking:

“The grace of God means something like:

‘Here is your life.

You might never have been, but you are,

because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.

Here is the world.

Beautiful and terrible things will happen.

Don’t be afraid.

I am with you.’”

In your memoir, tell readers how God brought beauty from ashes, joy from mourning, and praise in place of despair (see Isaiah 61:3).

Write those stories as an act of worship.

God will use your experiences, your words,

and your message to bring hope to others.

Believe it!

There you have it—your Tuesday Tidbit.

If your scars could talk, what stories would they tell?

Scars. You have a few. So do I. When writing our stories, we’ll almost certainly need to examine one or more of the wounds that caused our scars.

Keep in mind that a scar is not the same as a wound.

A wound is an injury, a laceration, a gash, a blow, a rip. Some wounds are superficial, but others are deep and agonizing.

On the other hand, a scar is “a mark left where a wound or injury or sore has healed” (Oxford American Dictionary).

Read that again: A scar is what you have after healing has occurred. After the bleeding has stopped. After the scab has fallen off.

A scar is evidence of healing.

When we think of a scar, too often we associate it with something damaged, defective. A disfigurement, an impairment.

But isn’t it better to recognize that a scar is something that has healed?

Think of your scar as an emblem declaring you’re repaired, a symbol of surviving, evidence your wound has mended.

So I ask: 

If your scars could talk, what stories would they tell?

Most of us are good at keeping our wounds and scars secret—maybe even from ourselves, but a good memoirist will not leave them in hiding.

Dani Shapiro says, “What we ignore, we ignore at our own peril. What we embrace with courage, perseverance, humility, and clarity, becomes our instrument of illumination.”

“Our instrument of illumination.” 

A good memoirist will

invite God to stand alongside—or maybe inside—

and help peel back layers,

get out a magnifying glass,

connect the dots,

and discover the deeper, broader, bigger story.

A good memoirist will make time

to examine the chapters of his life

in which God used wounds

to turn his story in a different

and better direction.

That reminds me of Bev Murrill’s words about Romans 8:28, “Paul said all things work together for good for people who love the Lord and are called according to His purposes. That doesn’t mean what happened is good, but that God can use even the most terrible things if we will let Him treat the wounds and heal them.”

C.S. Lewis said, “Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny.” Your job as a memoirist is to look back and discover that extraordinary destiny God has been working out for you—a destiny you couldn’t have experienced if it weren’t for your hardship, your wound. You have a scar to prove it.

Search for answers to Thornton Wilder’s question: “Without your wounds where would you be?”

How did God transform your wounds into scars?

Who and what did God use to bring healing? 

• A doctor, counselor, or medicine,
• a Bible passage or Bible study, 
• a book, 
• prayer, 
• a strategically placed friend or relative,
• time and distance,
• writing or journaling.

God has many ways of turning wounds into scars.

Bev Murrill says God is capable of “turning ugly gaping wounds into scars that serve as badges of honor and trophies of the grace of God at work in me.”

What badges of honor

and trophies of God’s grace

will you include in your memoir?

Someone needs to know your story.

Someone needs the hope your story can offer.

If your scars could talk,

what stories would they tell?

Tuesday Tidbit: Start off 2017 with writing!

Have you started writing your memoir yet?

Or are you still procrastinating?

Or maybe you started writing your memoir

but got distracted. 

Perhaps, like me, you set aside your WIP

(work in progress)

over the holidays.

Whatever, it's time to write!

Check out Chloe Yelena Miller's 

"Tips to help you get started writing."

“Don’t Waste Your Trials,” a new way to look at our hurts

Heartaches and trials and hurts and tragedies: You and I experience them, and when we do, “we focus on why they happen and how,” son-in-law Brian said in his Sunday sermon, “and we want to solve them.”

True.

But Brian really caught my attention when he pointed out, gently, that in times of calamity, we become self-centered.

When the doctor says we have a terminal disease,

            when someone tries to destroy our reputation,

                        when we’re reeling in pain,

when we face financial ruin,

            when a loved one dies,

                        when the house burns down,

                                    when we’re wrongly accused,

we become self-centered, Brian said. Self-centered. And he’s right. His words made me think back to my past hardships and, sure enough, I became self-absorbed in seeking an end to my pain and a path back to normalcy.

Brian continued with compassionate words, with humble words full of grace: “We have wrong expectations if we think life shouldn’t have trials. When they happen, avoid self-centeredness.”

Instead, he said, think of this: “God might be doing something bigger than you.” Does that grab you like it did me?

Brian urged us to use our tragedies for good by looking to others.

“Don’t waste your trials,” he said. “God might allow something hard so you can encourage others.

“Use your problems as an opportunity,” Brian said—an opportunity, he said!—to encourage others as they endure their own difficulties:

Your life, your experiences,

and your stories

can serve as another set of eyes

for others

struggling through their own trials.

You can help them

negotiate through the dark

and find the light.

In the midst of heartbreak, when life sends us on a bumpy detour into the wilderness, let’s focus on trusting that God has good plans for each of us. He loves us and doesn’t forsake us. Even when we can’t sense it, “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28, NIV).

Let’s watch for the ways God takes bad things and works them out for good. Sometimes it takes years, even decades, to detect how He’s been working, often quietly—even silently—out of sight. But He’s been working nevertheless, and it’s our job to take time and make the effort to look back, connect the dots, and put all the puzzle pieces together.

And then let’s write our stories 

and share them with others. 

Our stories can’t help anyone unless we share them.

“Life is a steep climb,” wrote Mrs. Charles E. Cowman about a century ago,“… and it does the heart good to have somebody ‘call back’ and cheerily beckon us up the high hill.” (By call back Mrs. Cowman means cupping your hands around your mouth and hollering, as opposed to returning a phone call.)

“We are all climbers together, and we must help one another,” Mrs. Cowman wrote. “This mountain climbing is serious business, but glorious. It takes strength and a steady step to find the summits.… If anyone among us has found anything worthwhile, we ought to ‘call back.’” (From Mrs. Charles E. Cowman’s Streams in the Desert; emphasis mine)

That’s what memoir is all about: Those who have found something worthwhile—that’s all of us, isn’t it?—ought to share it with others.

Think of the times someone else’s story:

• turned your life in a new direction,
• convinced you to keep a promise,
• gave you hope,
• kept you from making a big mistake,
• inspired you to take a leap of faith,
• taught you how to love,
• helped you forgive,
• gave you courage to stand against evil,  
• solved a mystery,
• showed you how to give a soft answer,
• helped you make a hard decision,
• inspired a new goal.

Those are the people who “called back” to you.

Now it’s your turn

to “call back” to others.

Write—and share—your story.

An easy way to add richness to your memoir's stories

Consider placing epigrams at the beginning of your memoir’s chapters or vignettes. (Usually an epigram is centered under the chapter title or number.)

An epigram is a concise saying that:

shines light on,

or summarizes,

clarifies,

focuses,

adds pizzazz or sparkle,

or enriches the important story that follows it.

An epigram can be a short poem, song lyrics, a proverb, adage, or something witty.

It can be a quotation, a Bible verse, a maxim, a pithy statement, or a prayer.

If you’re like me, you’ve saved poems and quotations—in journals, in filing cabinets, in computer documents. If you’re like me, you’ve underlined book passages, highlighted Bible verses, and memorized song lyrics.

They caught your attention for some reason. They have special meaning for you. Why?

Take time to think: What happened in your past that makes that passage poignant?  What experience—what wisdom, what life-shaping event, what joy, healing, hope, what delight—does each saying point to?

If a brief quotation has a special meaning to you, you could—and probably should—write a story about it.

What about those other quotations that resonate with you? Consider writing some or all of the stories those sayings bring to mind, and place the epigram at the beginning of the story.

I gave you a long list of quotes last summer, and today I’m giving you more which might work as epigrams for your vignettes. I hope they will get your mind to humming on new story ideas:

“God gave us memories so we could have roses in winter and mothers forever.” J. M. Barrie

“In the life of a God-centered person, sorrow and joy can exist together. That isn't easy to understand, but when we think about some of our deepest life experiences . . . great sorrow and great joy are often seen to be parts of the same experience. ” Henri Nouwen

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” Dr. Seuss

“Don’t go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“We are not what we do. We are not what we have. We are not what others think of us.… I am the beloved child of a loving Creator. ” Henri Nouwen

“To be loved but not known is superficial. To be known and not loved is our great fear—but to be known and loved, that transforms you.” Tim Keller 

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.” Harper Lee’s character Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; … who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” Theodore Roosevelt

 “Sometimes God allows something in your life that only He can fix so that you will get to see Him fix it.” Tony Evans

“Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’ ‘That’s the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.” George R. R. Martin

“Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”  M. Scott Peck

“We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.” Mother Teresa

“The greatest contribution to the kingdom of God may not be something you do but someone you raise.” Adam Stanley

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy. ” Martin Luther King, Jr.

“To find joy in work is to discover the fountain of youth.” Pearl S. Buck

“I’ve learned to kiss the waves that throw me up against the Rock of Ages.” Charles Spurgeon

“A spiritual life requires discipline because we need to learn to listen to God, who constantly speaks but whom we seldom hear.” Henri Nouwen, Making All Things New

“If we encounter a man of rare intellect, we should ask him what books he reads.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.” Mitch Albom

“When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. ” Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing the monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” C.S. Lewis

“ … At moments of even the most humdrum of our days, God speaks.… He speaks not just through the sounds we hear, of course, but through events in all their complexity and variety, through the harmonies and disharmonies and counterpoint of all that happens.” Frederick Buechner, The Sacred Journey

“Sometimes life takes us places we never expected to go.  And in those places God writes a story we never thought would be ours.” Renee Swope

“In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself in a dark wood where the straight way was lost.” Dante

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.” Proverbs 31:8

Related post: Add richness to your memoir’s chapters