Prepare for what happens to you when you write your memoir

 

Prepare to choose courage over cowardice when the remembering and writing hurt.

 

Prepare to be surprised and delighted when you peel off layers surrounding your past experiences.

 

Prepare to find God’s fingerprints all over everything.

 

Prepare to discover links, insights, and joys.

 

Prepare to unravel your life’s mysteries (or at least some of them).

 

Prepare to make better sense of your life.

 

Prepare to feel good about it.

 

Back to Basics: Beat back the past with grace and tell your readers “We are not victims”

It used to be that people didn’t include scandalous stuff in their memoirs. We lived in a modest, dignified culture. 

 

But then things changed. Memoirists tossed out gentility and decorum, and our society entered into what William Zinsser calls “The memoir-crazed 1990s.” 

 

It was a time, he says, when people disclosed shocking information, indulged in self-pity, and sought revenge, a time when “no remembered episode was too squalid, no family too dysfunctional, to be trotted out for the titillation of the masses.”

 

But, he points out, those types of memoirs didn’t stand the test of time. (Hooray!)

 

That era did have a few good memoirs, though.

 

“The memoirs we do remember from the 1990s,” says Zinsser, “are the ones that were written with love and forgiveness, like Mary Karr’s The Liar’s Club, Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes, Tobias Wolff’s This Boy’s Life, and Pete Hamill’s A Drinking Life.” (From “How to Write a Memoir” in The American Scholar.)

 

“Anyone might think” he says, “the domestic chaos and alcoholism and violence that enveloped those writers when they were young would have long since hardened the heart.” 

 

And yet they did not have hardened hearts. For example, “The marvel of Frank McCourt’s childhood is that he survived it. . . . The second marvel is that he was able to triumph over it in Angela’s Ashes, beating back the past with grace and humor and with the power of language.”

 

Each of those four authors “look back with compassion. . . .  These books…were written with love. They elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness, arriving at a larger truth about families in various stages of brokenness.  . . .

 

“There’s no self-pity, no whining, no hunger for revenge; the authors are as honest about their young selves as they are about the sins of their elders. (Writing About Your Life)  (If you missed it, be sure to read Don’t start writing your memoir until . . .)

 

“We are not victims, they want us to know. . . . We have endured to tell the story without judgment and to get on with our  lives. . . .”  (Zinsser, Writing About Your Life)

 

If you’re writing about pain caused by others, be cautious and honest about your motives.

 

Avoid writing:

• to get revenge, settle the score, or retaliate,
• to humiliate a person, company, or organization,
• to get readers to pity you,
• to get readers to take sides with you, or
• to indulge in self-pity.

 

Examine your heart and if you find even traces of writing for any of those reasons, stop! That’s not what memoir is about.

 

Extend to others the same forgiveness, grace, and mercy God has extended to you. (See last week’s post, How do you write about your family’s baggage?)

 

Let the following dwell in your heart and mind as you write:

 

“At our best,

memoirists hope it is silence we are breaking,

and not another person.”

(Kelly McMasters)

 

Zinsser counsels us:

 

“If you use memoir to look for your own humanity

and the humanity of the people who crossed your life,

however much pain they caused you,

readers will connect with your journey.

 

What they won’t connect with is whining.

Dispose of that anger somewhere else.”

 

That somewhere else could be in your journal—for your eyes only—or in a fictionalized version of your story.

 

Or it could be a first draft. Dr. Linda Joy Myers advises,

 

“Write your first draft as a healing draft.

Get out what you need to say.

Make it bold and real.

Then stand back and think about

how you want to revise it for publication.”

(Will My Family Get Angry About My Memoir?)

 

In that rough draft, write about the injustices, mistreatment, hurt feelings, anger, scars, and tears. Write about destroyed dreams, confusion, hopelessness.

 

Write it all. Write it as a prayer.

Write until you know God has heard you.

Write it as a way of asking Him

to help you forgive and move on.

 

Since that process usually takes time, set aside your private writing (rough draft) for a week or a month or a year. Listen for God, let Him work in your heart and mind.

 

Your goal is to move from anger to forgiveness, from pain to compassion. When you succeed in that, you can throw away that rough draft, or at least commit to keeping it private.

 

And then rewrite your memoir.

 

Rewrite deliberately to “elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness.”

 

Rewrite with integrity.

Delete the wallowing.

Write not as a wounded victim,

but as one who has triumphed,

as one who has forgiven, healed,

and moved forward in a good way.

 

Write like Frank McCourt did:

Beat back the past with grace—

and maybe even with a little humor.

 

  

Back to Basics: Are you paralyzed by the thought of writing your memoir?

 

“Most people embarking on writing a memoir are paralyzed by the size of the task,” writes William Zinsser.

 

“Where to start? Where to stop? How to shape the story?

 

“The past looms over them in a thousand fragments, defying them to impose on it some kind of order.

 

“Because of that anxiety, many memoirs linger for years half written, or never written at all.” (William Zinsser, How to Write a Memoir)

 

Does that describe you?

If so, take a deep breath.

Let me offer you some help.

 

I recommend that you begin by coming up with a structure for your memoir.

 

“The structure is the framework you write into,

your security blanket, your assurance that all your hard work

will result in a completed manuscript.”

(Priscilla Long, The Writer’s Portable Mentor)

 

When we talk about structuring your memoir, then, we’re talking about its organization. You’ll need to determine the best sequence of events.

 

Remember our earlier post about story arc? Click on Your memoir’s all-important story arc and Your memoir’s middle and end.

 

To jog your memory, let’s review a story arc, as well as the basics of story:

 

Memoirs read like novels (but unlike novels, they are true accounts). Jon Franklin (Writing for Story) explains: “A story consists of a sequence of actions that occur when a sympathetic character encounters a complicating situation that he confronts and solves.”

Franklin says, in other words, that a quality story “will consist of a real person who is confronted with a significant problem, who struggles diligently to solve that problem, and who ultimately succeeds—and in doing so becomes a different character.”

Dr. Linda Joy Myers says it this way: “The main character . . . —in a memoir it’s you!—is changed significantly by events, actions, decisions, and epiphanies. The growth and change of the main character is imperative in any story, and is the primary reason a memoir is written—to show the arc of character change from beginning to end.”

 

The story arc is like a thread, a path from beginning to end, making clear that character change.

 

Okay, back to your memoir’s structure:

 

I recommend that you tell your story chronologically—with a beginning, a middle, and an end. It’s straightforward: Arrange chapters according to date. That will be your structure.

 

With that in mind, let’s talk about flashbacks.

 

Tiffany Yates Martin offers this succinct definition of flashbacks: “. . . [S]eparate, self-contained scenes that serve to fill in essential backstory. . . . [They are] events . . . that happened before the events of the current story. . . .”

 

So how, specifically, could a flashback work in your memoir?

 

Two ways.

 

The first way: Some memoirists, even though writing a chronological account, begin their books with a flashback.

Here’s how that works: Place a compelling segment of your story in Chapter 1 (or perhaps in the first part of Chapter 1)—something intriguing or mysterious that will hook your readers. Something riveting or gripping.

 

After you’ve sufficiently developed that attention-getting opening, flashback to what led up to that experience—to where and how it all got started.

 

Note:

Often writers signal to readers

that they’re entering a flashback scene

by using the word “had.”

 

Here’s an example from my friend Shel Arensen, who was a college kid at the time, trying to get home for Christmas. Notice the word “had” in the sixth paragraph. That signaled to readers that the paragraph was a flashback—he was offering readers some background info.

 

Alone in Amsterdam, by Shel Arensen

 

I opened my eyes, suddenly awake. An eerie sense of uneasiness crept over me. Had I heard someone moving in the room? It was too dark to see. Then I heard the door click.

 

I sat upright in bed, straining to see who might have invaded the barracks-style hostel room where I was staying in Amsterdam, Holland. I sat perfectly still, hardly breathing, for several minutes. No one else stirred.

 

“I must have been imagining things,” I told myself. . . .

 

I decided to lie on my stomach. . . . When I turned over, I noticed what was wrong!

 

My pants, hanging on the wall near my bed, were twisted, and the lining of my pocket was hanging out. . . . I reached for my wallet. It was gone!

 

My misfortunes had started the day before when I arrived at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam. I was to make connections there for Kenya, where my missionary parents lived.

 

“I’m sorry,” the voice of the ticket agent had grated in my ears, “but tonight’s flight to Nairobi is full. We can’t take any more passengers. . . . I will confirm your ticket for the next plane to Nairobi.”

 

“When will that be?” I questioned.

 

“Next Thursday—Christmas Day. Here’s your ticket. Enjoy Amsterdam. Who’s next in line, please?”

 

. . . Stunned and bewildered, I wandered over to a bench to collect my thoughts. . . .

It was Sunday night. . . . Now I would be unable to leave Amsterdam until Christmas—four days later. . . .

 

Did you notice the word “had” in the fifth paragraph? Using the word “had” in your manuscript will alert your readers that you’re going to take them back in time and offer significant information.

Here’s the second way of using flashbacks: While writing a chronological account, you can insert flashbacks throughout your memoir.

In other words, at key places you’ll interrupt the chronological order by flashing back to something that happened earlier—because you want to explain something to readers about that.

 

Here’s an example of a brief flashback from my memoir, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir. I was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat next to the pilot, Roland, in a small plane in the skies over South America. 

 

Dipping low, three or four seconds from touchdown, the wing on my side catapulted into the air and we veered to the left, the lopsided plane convulsing, engines roaring. Red lights flashed in the cockpit. A buzzer bawled somewhere. Roland jerked levers and slapped switches and punched buttons.

 

Dear God! I prayed, but I couldn’t say more. I couldn’t breathe. Of all the potential dangers I’d worried about—kidnapping, murder, drug cartel and guerrilla activity—I’d never imagined a plane crash.

 

Because our pilots often flew into the riskiest places on earth, they had been trained to have the engines at full throttle when approaching an airstrip in case they had to abort the landing. Grazing animals, curious children, or downed trees were common reasons to abort. Some landing strips clung to mountainsides and others were dangerously short. And sometimes armed insurgents swarmed remote airstrips. All were good reasons to be revved up at full throttle and ready to liff back into the air.

 

So, when that wicked horizontal wind shear jerked the plane vertical and tried to smash us to the ground, Roland wasn’t about to let that happen. His extensive training kicked in and he yanked the plane, vibrating and throbbing, into a steep climb heavenward.

 

After a brutal thirty seconds or so, Roland leveled the plane and it stopped trembling. “Whew,” he wheezed, sucking in a breath. “That was a sharp side wind. It blew in from nowhere.”

 

Notice the word “had” in the third paragraph. That’s how I pointed toward the upcoming flashback.

 

Here are phrases that could give you ideas for announcing you’re taking readers into a flashback:

 

“Before I had been invited on the trip. . . .”

“The year before, she had. . . .”

“Seven weeks earlier we had. . . .”

 

Question: Did you notice where I transitioned out of the flashback? It began with “So, when that wicked horizontal wind. . . .” With that phrase, I alerted readers that we were transitioning out of the flashback and returning to the chronological story.

 

That’s what you’ll want to do, too. Toward the end of your flashback, make it clear you’re transitioning out of it. Avoid confusing your readers: Write your way back to the scene you and the reader were in before you began your flashback, and then continue the chronological order of events.

 

Flashbacks can be very effective, but they’re not easy to pull off well. After all, you’re interrupting the reader’s involvement in your story.

 

Your job is to take readers back in time with you, and then smoothly, gracefully invite them to re-enter the main flow of the story.

 

Your desired outcome is

to hand your readers a coherent,

organized, satisfying memoir.

 

So set aside time to experiment with your memoir’s structure. Remember: You’ll no doubt revise your rough draft several times before you find the best structure.

 

You can do this! Yes, you can!

 

Back to Basics: Your memoir’s middle and end

 

Last week we began looking at your memoir’s all-important story arc. (If you missed it, click on Back to Basics: Your memoir’s all-important story arc.)

 

The story arc is like a pathway.

It carries the memoirist and the reader

from the beginning of the story,

to the middle,

to the end.

 

Last week we concentrated on your memoir’s beginning, in which you tell readers about something you wanted or needed and the obstacle that was hindering you.

 

This week we’ll move on to your memoir’s middle.

 

Tell readers of progress toward your goal but also tell them that obstructions (some of them new) piled up, your struggles intensified, and issues got complicated—either internal or external—and they threatened to keep you from achieving your goals, meeting your needs, and/or making your dreams come true. Usually, the biggest challenge comes toward the end of your story's middle.

 

Now let’s look at your memoir’s end. This is where you detail how hurdles, hindrances, and complications came to a climax.

 

Dr. Linda Joy Myers writes that in this third phase, the end, “. . . the threads and layers of complexity reach a peak—the crisis and climax of the story. Here the character is tested, where [your] true depth of learning and transformation is revealed.”

 

Dr. Myers continues, “The crisis may be thought of as a spiritual challenge or a ‘dark night of the soul,’ where the deepest beliefs and core truths of the character are tested. The climax is the highest level of tension and conflict that the protagonist must resolve as the story comes to a close.

 

“There’s an aha at the end,” she says, “an epiphany when the main character has learned her lessons and can never return to the previous way of living.”

 

Adair Lara explains it this way: “You try a lot of things to solve your problem, with mixed results. You have setbacks, you make mistakes and you push on, until you either get what you wanted, or you don’t, or you stop wanting it. . . .”

 

A memoir’s ending is about transformation and resolution. It shows readers how you finally succeeded—how you got what you wanted. . . .

Or not! Read on. . . .

 

Sometimes in a memoir’s ending, we see that the main character didn’t get what she originally wanted, but what she got was even better. Diane Butts says:

 

“Now, this ‘want’ is different 

from what they are actually going to get. . . .

But what they get in the story is infinitely better for them,

they just don’t know it at the outset of the story.

When, through your story, the [memoirist] gets this better thing

instead of what they originally wanted,

they are a changed character.”

 

For example, take my experience in South America from my memoir, Please, God, Don't Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger's Memoir. Here's a blurb about the book:

“What’s a comfortable, and cowardly, suburbanite to do

when her husband wants to move their young family

to rural South America

to teach missionaries’ kids?

She prays, ‘Please, God, don’t make me go!’”

 

In my memoir, I wrote that eventually I became willing to go to South America—and I had a good attitude about it.

 

When I first arrived, I still had a good attitude . . . but . . .

 

But equatorial heat and culture shock brought me to my knees. My “want” was to turn around and go back home to Seattle. I was desperate. I refused to unpack and plotted to run away.

 

But after living there for three months (and 87 pages into the book), I had fallen in love with the place and my job.

 

I wrote in my memoir:

 

“God had sent me where I didn’t know I wanted to go.

And it occurred to me, with a jolt,

 that I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving

at the end of the school year,

only six months away.

I couldn’t leave—I wouldn’t!”

 

I experienced what Diane Butts wrote about: I got something better than what I wanted at the outset. I was a changed person.

 

In summary, then, tell readers what you now know, understand, or believe that you didn’t before. Tell them how you changed in the process. Maybe, like me, you had a change of heart because you recognized the unexpected Plan B was better than your Plan A.

 

Remember:

People read memoirs

to learn how to handle similar situations

that arise in their own lives.

In that way, you become a role model for them,

an inspiration,

even an answer to prayer.

 

Come back next week and I’ll offer more help with your memoir’s all-important story arc.

 

 

 

Back to Basics: Your memoir’s all-important story arc

 

“When I began work on my memoir . . . I didn’t know a thing about arcs,” writes author Adair Lara.

 

“I thought, I lived this story. I’ll just write it down the way it happened. . . .

 

“It was as if I decided to build a house and just started nailing together boards without giving a thought to blueprints. I put up some strange-looking houses that way, in the form of inert drafts filled with pointless scenes.

 

“I would have saved myself a lot of time if I had drawn an arc.”

 

Adair admits, “Back then, I hadn’t even heard of an arc.”

 

Maybe you haven’t heard of a story arc either, so let’s get started.

 

To give you a good grasp of a story’s arc,

first you’ll need to understand the basics of story.

 

Memoirs read like novels (but unlike novels, they are true accounts). Jon Franklin (Writing for Story) explains: “A story consists of a sequence of actions that occur when a sympathetic character encounters a complicating situation that he confronts and solves.”

Franklin says, in other words, that a quality story “will consist of a real person who is confronted with a significant problem, who struggles diligently to solve that problem, and who ultimately succeeds—and in doing so becomes a different character.”

“The main character . . . —in a memoir it’s you!—is changed significantly by events, actions, decisions, and epiphanies. The growth and change of the main character is imperative in any story, and is the primary reason a memoir is written—to show the arc of character change from beginning to end” (Dr. Linda Joy Myers).

 

The story arc is like a thread, a path from beginning to end.

It carries the memoirist and the reader:

From the BEGINNING,

to the MIDDLE,

to the END of the story.

 

Today we’ll concentrate on only your memoir’s BEGINNING, in which you’ll tell readers about something you wanted or needed and the obstacle that was hindering you.

 

Take in Diane Butts’ words here:

 

“A story needs a main character who wants something. . . . This want gives forward motion to the story. There also needs to be something that prevents your main character from getting what they want. This creates conflict. . . .

 

“A story needs to have conflict,” Diane writes. “No conflict = no story. If there is no conflict, then it’s just a list of facts. . . .  Conflict [is] something that needs to be dealt with, a problem that needs to be overcome. . . .

 

“A story starts by showing the main character’s ordinary world—things as they are before any conflict happens. Then something happens that changes the ordinary world and sets the story in motion. That incident incites the story” (Diane Butts).

 

So, are you ready? Let’s go!

 

In your memoir’s beginning, introduce yourself to your readers and tell them, specifically, what you wanted or needed or planned or dreamed—but you also tell them about a problem or a challenge that surfaced and threatened to mess everything up.

 

Perhaps you were hit with a financial setback, a mental health issue, a spiritual need, or a relationship struggle.

 

Maybe something or someone threatened to undo your career or destroy your reputation.

 

Maybe, like me, you married a person who longed to live a nontraditional, adventuresome life, but all you wanted was a conventional life that didn’t require you to be courageous and daring.

 

Pinpoint your obstacle. That’s what must change. Make it clear to your readers what you wanted or needed or longed for, and how that was hindered or threatened.

 

Ask yourself:

What set my story in motion? What was the inciting incident?

What was it that I wanted?—wanted to accomplish? to be?

to solve? learn? overcome? discover? escape?

What kept me from getting what I wanted/needed?

What was the challenge, the obstacle?

To achieve my goal, what needed to change?

 

If you haven’t already started writing your memoir, begin today. Don’t be too hard on yourself. This will be your rough draft—for your eyes only. You will no doubt revise it several times. Just get started!

 

If you’ve already started your rough draft, make revisions according to today’s information. (Revising is not punishment! It’s how you polish your memoir and make it shine.)

 

Next week we’ll look at your memoir’s MIDDLE and its ENDING.

 

Back to Basics: Knowing the unique features of memoir will help you tell your story

 

Since we have new people joining us here at SM 101, we’re reviewing (1) what a memoir is, and (2) how best to write one. (Check out two recent blog posts: Back to Basics: What is a Memoir? and Back to Basics: Why should you write your memoir?)

 

A memoir is so much more than spinning yarns and telling tales.

 

That  means you need to understand what a memoir is

in order to

write it in the most effective way.

 

Below you’ll find some gems—some nitty-gritty basics—to help you get started, to help you keep writing, and to publish your memoir.

 

 

“Rather than simply telling a story from her life,

the memoirist both tells the story

and muses upon it,

trying to unravel what it means

in light of her current knowledge. . . .

Memoir includes retrospection as an essential part of the story.

Your reader . . . [is] interested in how you now, 

looking back on it, understand it.”

(Judith Barrington, Writing the Memoir)

 

 

“Remember this when you write about your own life.

Your biggest stories will often have less to do with their subject

than with their significance:

not what you did in a certain situation,

but how that situation affected you.”

(William Zinsser, Writing About Your Life)

 

 

“Memoir is not about what you did.

Memoir is about what you did with it.”

(Marion Roach Smith)

 

 

“Memoir is about something you know

after something you’ve been through.”

(Marion Roach Smith)

 

 

Writing a memoir “offers . . . the opportunity to recall, assess,

reflect, and find meaning. . . . Most memoir writing experts agree

that the primary importance of memoir writing

is the resolution, clarity, healing and dignity gained by the author. . . .

Writing memoir is an adventure in attitudes,

with unexpected personal revelations, discoveries and resolution.”

(Sharon Lippincott, author of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing,

and two memoirs)

 

 

“The main character . . . —in a memoir it’s you!—is changed

significantly by events, actions, decisions, and epiphanies.

The growth and change of the main character

is imperative in any story,

and is the primary reason a memoir is written—

to show the arc of character change from beginning to end.”

(Dr. Linda Joy Myers)

 

 

Take in these significant quotes about memoirs. Ponder them in relation to the stories you want to include in your memoir.

 

The better you understand and apply the above, the better your writing experience—and your finished memoir—will be.

 

Come back next week for more inspiration on writing your memoir!

 

Tuesday Tidbit: Your memoir’s takeaways can change lives

 

Where do you put takeaways in your memoir? (If you missed last week’s post on what takeaways are, click on Your memoir’s all-important takeaways.) 

 

“Takeaway happens within a reflection,” point out Brooke Warner and Dr. Linda Joy Myers. (To read more about the importance of reflection in memoir, click on Reflection and the words we use.)

 

“Takeaway can be a reflection, but not all reflection is takeaway,” they continue. “… [W]herever there is reflection, there is an opportunity for a takeaway, but that doesn’t mean that necessarily all reflections are going to be takeaways.”

 

In other words, takeaways accompany segments in your memoir in which you reflect. You will reflect multiple times throughout your memoir. Some if not all of them will be opportunities for you to include a takeaway for your readers—those bits of wisdom to live by.

And don’t beat around the bush! Pinpoint your message. Clarity is your goal. (Please, please, read my blog post about writers who circle all around The Point but never state The Point. Click on What’s the point?)

 

Dedicate quality time to crafting your takeaways. Specify what was the most important message or lesson you took away from that experience (the one you’re reflecting on). Boil it down, write a concise message for your readers.

 

Here are examples of takeaways:

“Life is composed of cycles and seasons. Nothing lasts forever.” Dr. Henry Cloud

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" (Mary Anne  Radmacher) 

“We find by losing. We hold fast by letting go. We become something new by ceasing to be something old.” (Frederick Buechner)  

 

In this example from Steve Pemberton’s A Chance in the World, I’ve underlined the takeaway: “Looking back, this was a galvanizing moment. The Robinsons had taken away any semblance of my childhood, something I could never get back. But now this new edict, vile and ignorant, threatened my future. At some point in our lives, we all have to make a decision to take a stand, knowing full well the potential harmful consequences. For me that decision came in the fall of 1982, at the age of fifteen.”

 

Most memoirists place takeaways throughout their memoirs. If you have a conclusion, a postscript, or an epilogue in your memoir, reiterate your most important takeaways in them, too.

 

Your takeaways are the most powerful part of your memoir.

They offer readers hope,

or wisdom, or courage, or laughter,

or a solution, or a new way of living or loving.

 

Your takeaways, then, communicate to readers:

“I know this is true because I have experienced it,

I have lived it. It changed my life.

Perhaps it will change your life, too.”

 

 

At first your takeaways will resemble diamonds-in-the-rough. Your job is to cut and polish and make those gems sparkle. Doing so adds to their value for both you and your readers.

 

There you have it: Your Tuesday Tidbit.

 

TODAY: Sign up for a free online course with NAMW

Dr. Linda Joy Myers of National Association of Memoir Writers announces a FREE online course that begins tomorrow, September 5. Sign up today! I did!

Dr. Linda asks, "Do you have a story to tell? How many times have you told yourself, When I have time, I'll write about my childhood. I want to leave a legacy for my family. Or perhaps you are drawn to write to discover more about yourself.

"Whatever the reason you want to write a memoir, I know from my years of teaching and listening to aspiring writers that those other voices can pop up: you don't know how to write, you don't have a good memory, your life was ordinary, your story would be boring.

"If you're reading this," she says, "it's likely you want to try writing your story, [or are] interested in experimenting with the idea....

"A Taste of Memoir Writing is a free online course that will help you begin your memoir....

"The best thing to do is to start, and these lessons will guide you. You work at your own speed and write whatever you want. When you sign up for this quick taste of memoir writing, for the next four weeks, you will find a lesson in your inbox. It's like a present. You open it and enjoy! Click here to sign up."

Thanks, Dr. Linda!