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!

 

Your memoir: Lighthearted or heavy?

I’ve mentioned before that memoirs can be about happy experiences, good people, and victories. They can be lighthearted, even humorous.

Yet many memoirists write stories about suffering, trauma, setback, or failure.

The genre of memoir lends itself to stories of hardship because we write about: 

• moving from one stage of our lives into a better one,
• learning from our experiences—about ourselves, others, and God,
• and becoming new and improved persons as a result of our experiences.

Those aspects of memoir, when we think of writing one ourselves, often trigger memories of difficult circumstances we’ve fought through and overcome.

But memoirs don’t have to be about battles fought and won. They can be about happier occasions, too.

Perhaps Marion Roach Smith’s updated definition of memoir will set us free to write of pleasanter experiences.

She says, 

“Memoir is about something you know 

after something you’ve been through.”

For example, she tells about her love of gardening: “. . . what I really know from thirty years in the garden is that peace can be found in my own back yard.”

So, our job as memoirists is to tell readers what we learned—how we transitioned from our old selves into our new selves.

Too many people live on the busy, trifling surface, decade after decade—which is a sad way to live. That’s probably what Chuck Swindoll had in mind when he wrote, “Some of God’s best truths, like priceless treasures, are hidden in depths most folks never take time to search out.”

That’s why writing a memoir requires us to search out those hidden treasures—to intentionally reflect, to ponder, examine, piece together events and relationships, connect the dots and discover what was really going on, to grasp the deeper, wider, higher picture. (Click here to review what the definition of memoir is.)

With that in mind, here are ideas for less-than-traumatic memoirs.

What did you learn, what do you now know, after: 

• taking a cruise to Alaska
• playing sports
• spending a summer on your uncle’s ranch
• taking care of pets
• going on a short-term mission trip
• babysitting
• being a parent
• working on a summer camp’s staff
• living in the desert—or rainforest
• working as a driver’s ed instructor
• blogging
• belonging to your high school Girls’ Club
• volunteering at a nursing home
• reuniting with your first love.

What did you learn from: 

• your best friend
• your parent
• a grandparent
• your children
• your grandchildren
• your favorite professor
• an immigrant
• a first responder
• a handicapped person
• a Bible study
• your first paying job
• a road trip
• learning how to cook
• learning how to make house repairs
• your favorite songs.

And here at SM 101, we also seek to discover what God was doing in the midst of our experiences. We might not have noticed His involvement at the time, but in making time to look back, we realize He was doing what He promised in the Bible, teaching us truths we need to understand, strengthening our faith, and more—all kinds of special, loving things.

Your story could be about something that happened suddenly, or about something that slowly, quietly crept into your heart and changed your attitude, or gave you hope, made you laugh, strengthened your faith, or gave you peace.

Think about an Aha moment 

when you discovered something lovely 

or insightful or helpful. 

A realization that filled you with wonder. 

A mystery you solved, 

or a discovery that delighted you, 

a discovery that, if you shared it, 

would add joy to other people’s lives. 

Your story is important.

It could turn a person’s life in a new direction.

God can use your story.

Someone needs to hear it.

Tuesday Tidbit: What’s the big deal about a memoir’s structure?

Have you pinned down the right structure for your memoir?

You might be asking: What’s the big deal about a memoir’s structure?

“Knowing how to choose your memoir structure

is essential to your book’s success.

Period.

Full stop.”

Marion Roach Smith

There you have it, your Tuesday Tidbit.

If you missed our October 18 post, click on

How can you hand your readers a coherent, organized story?

And be sure to come back Thursday for more help

with your memoir’s all-important structure.

“How many dead and gone women were in the kitchen with you?”

“I opened my recipe files and was suddenly surrounded by all the dead women whose recipes I was using,” writes memoirist Marion Roach Smith. That was a scene from cooking in her kitchen. 

Then she turns to you and me: “How many dead and gone women were in the kitchen with you recently?”

Marion’s jolting, inelegant words remind me that my recipe files are packed with family-favorites from my grandma, my mom and her sisters, my mom’s cousin, my mother-in-law, and even a few men (and—ahem—most of them are still alive). 

Those recipes—so much more than 5” x 3” cards!—represent people intricately connected to me, folks who showed me how to live and love, dear ones whose lives nurtured mine. In turn, their lives have impacted my children and grandchildren. 

My grandma’s recipes, some in her handwriting, generate dozens of memories. I picture myself at my grandparents’ kitchen table eating dinner—roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and Grandma’s creamed peas. She grew them in her garden out back behind the garage.

And—oh! I have memories of that garden! Grandma took me there one afternoon—I might have been four or five years old—and introduced me to sweet tender new baby peas right out of the pod. 

Recently I took my granddaughter to our garden and taught her to pop open a pea pod and eat those sweet little morsels right out of the pod. I told her the story of my grandmother doing the same with me, and I wondered aloud if she’d remember, as I’ve remembered all these years.

Grandma and I sat at her kitchen table, snapped open heaps of pods, and popped the peas into a saucepan, ready to cook for dinner after Grandpa arrived home from work. 

And perhaps for dessert we’d enjoy Grandma’s fudge pudding cake.

Memories: Countless dinners around my grandparents’ table, happy conversations, doing dishes with Grandma afterward, and always her merry but oh-so-soft laughter. 

I think of the gentle, devoted wife she was to my grandpa, the faithful, hard working mother she was to my mom and her sisters, and the loving grandmother and great-grandmother she was to us. 

Shy and humble, she was the heart of the family.

Looking back now, I see how like God she was: Never self-seeking, always living for others, slow to anger, compassionate, full of grace and mercy. 

My grandkids and their kids need to know about Grandma Mac. 

I want them to know the blessings they’ve received because of my grandma. 

I want them to know Grandma Mac’s DNA lives in their cells, that some of their likes and passions and longings—even their laughter—could be just like hers. I want them to know they can choose to live the way she did.

Marion Roach Smith asked how many dead and gone women are in the kitchen with us when we cook. My grandma passed away 25 years ago but, because of her love-infused involvement in our lives, she lives on in those of us who knew and loved her—and still miss her terribly.

Yes, when I use Grandma Mac’s recipes, she is with me in my kitchen. Her recipes remind me of her goodness, of the way she lived and loved. I hear her soft, gentle laughter, I see her smiling face—the most beautiful in the world. Her recipes can help me write stories for my grandkids and future generations.

What about you? Dig for your own treasures from old family recipes. Gather memories of people who shared them with you and then write your stories because:  

We all come from the past, 

and children ought to know what it was

that went into their making,

to know that life is

a braided cord of humanity

stretching up from time long gone,

and that it cannot be defined 

by the span of a single journey

from diaper to shroud.

Russell Baker, Growing Up