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.”

 

Make ‘em cry

 

“Our best stories evoke an emotional response, touch a deep cord, and motivate action and change,” writes Peter Guber, famous storyteller.

 

Think about a time when a story—a book, a movie, a speech, a personal conversation—brought you to tears. That’s what Peter Guber is talking about: That deep emotional response.

 

Ask yourself how that changed you, that story that made you cry. If you set aside time to ponder that, you’ll probably come up with the answer.

 

Similarly, if a reader makes an emotional connection with you by reading your memoir, he will do more than keep reading. He will also become a different, better person for having read it.

 

Your job, then, as a memoirist, is to tell your story in such a way that readers get stirred up inside and respond emotionally. Your job is to make your story so impactful that it inspires action and change.

 

One way to do that is to follow Wilkie Collins’ advice: “make ‘em cry, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em wait.”

 

For the past few weeks, we’ve considered how to make readers laugh. (If you missed those posts, click here.)

 

Now we’re going to look at how to “make ‘em cry” because that, too, is important in creating a relationship between you and your readers.

 

But first, let’s acknowledge the elephant in the room: Sometimes people wonder—mainly men, I suspect—why we should include sorrows and struggles and tears in our memoirs.

 

The reasons are many: “Our sufferings and pains are not simply bothersome interruptions of our lives,” writes Henri Nouwen.

 

If Nouwen is right, then what are our suffering and pains?

 

Let’s look back. If we look back and reflect and examine, we’ll recognize that often during our hardest times, we learned our most important lessons.

 

Difficulties can get our attention when we’ve been in denial.

 

They can make us cling to God.

 

They can give us a holy discontent over things that are not right in our lives—and inspire us to change.

 

Sorrows can be the stuff of turning points and second chances.

 

They can lead to personal victories.

 

And then sharing those stories can benefit readers. When we make ourselves vulnerable and write about our hurts, readers recognize they have something in common with us.

 

That, in turn, invites them to enter into our stories and learn lessons for themselves through our experiences because:

 

“Stories can be a stand-in for life, allowing us [readers] to expand our knowledge beyond what we could reasonably squeeze into a lifetime of direct experience . . . . We can take in the stories of others . . . [and have] opportunity to try out solutions.” (Peter Guber)

 

Always remember this: God can use your story. That’s why the Bible teaches us to tell our stories:

• Go tell your family everything God has done for you (Luke 8:39).
• O God, let each generation tell its children of Your mighty acts; let them retell stories of your power (Psalm 145:4).
• Always remember what you’ve seen God do and be sure to tell your children and grandchildren (Deuteronomy 4:9).

 

Next week we’ll take a deeper look about how to “make ‘em cry,” but for now, experiment.

 

Go back in time, re-live one or more sad parts of your story and jot down thoughts and reactions and questions and fears and prayers.

 

Reconstruct your experience for readers.

 

Keep in mind you’re working on a rough draft. You can revise it later but for now, get something in writing.

 

You can do this!

 

You don’t have to be rich and famous to write a memoir

You don’t have to be rich or famous to write a memoir. Ordinary people write memoirs, too, and that’s good because the world needs more memoirs written by regular people. Families need more memoirs written by their relatives.

If you, an ordinary guy, publish a memoir, people won’t likely stop you on the street and ask if they can take a selfie with you. And you’ll probably need to keep your day job—and that’s because you probably won’t land a deal with a traditional, big-name publisher. Here’s why: Ordinary people’s stories seldom bring in a lot of money—and money is the bottom line for big publishers.

Don’t let that discourage you. Nowadays, everyday memoirists have several publishing options, thanks to the self-publishing industry. Another option is to print your book at a local printshop. Or you can write your stories for kids and grandkids and put them in three-ring binders along with photos.

Henri Nouwen observes: “There is much emphasis on notoriety and fame in our society. Our newspapers and television keep giving us the message: What counts is to be known, praised, and admired, whether you are a writer, an actor, a musician, or a politician.

“Still, real greatness is often hidden, humble, simple, and unobtrusive. It is not easy to trust ourselves and our actions without public affirmation. We must have strong self-confidence combined with deep humility.

“Some of the greatest works of art and the most important works of peace were created by people who had no need for the limelight. They knew that what they were doing was their call[ing], and they did it with great patience, perseverance, and love.”  (Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey)

Don’t let fame and fortune be your primary goal because—believe this:

Your story is important.

Studies have shown that kids are more stable

and successful if they know their family’s stories.

(I suspect that’s also true for those who are no longer kids.)

Stories are among God’s most powerful and effective tools. Your story can be among God’s most powerful and effective tools.

There’s a reason you don’t see spreadsheets and charts and bullet points and graphs in the Bible. Research shows that stories impact humans in ways other types of information don’t.

The Bible is full of stories because of the ways our hearts and minds respond to stories. We engage with a story’s message more than we do with databases and tables and lists.

Peter Guber explains:

“Stories . . . are far more than entertainment. They are the most effective form of human communication, more powerful than any other way of packaging information. . . .

“Without stories,” Guber continues, “we wouldn’t understand ourselves. [Stories] . . . give us much of the framework for much of our understanding. . . . While we think of stories as . . . something extraneous to real work, they turn out to be the cornerstone of consciousness.” (Read more at Writing your memoir: A sacred calling.)

You’ll like what Morgan Harper Nichols says:

“Tell the story of the mountain you climbed.

Your words could become a page

in someone else’s survival guide.”

Some of you might not have children, but you have friends, colleagues, neighbors, cousins, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, friends from high school and college, former sweethearts—on and on.

Your memoir can benefit those people, and more.

The big question is this:

Will you write your story?

Or, if you’ve started writing your memoir,

will you finish writing it?

And place it into the hands of others?

Writing your memoir: A sacred calling

You, dear memoirist, are divinely linked to the reason Jesus told parables.

There’s a reason Jesus replied with a story (Luke 10:30).

That reason? Stories are among God’s most powerful and effective tools.

Your stories can be among God’s most powerful and effective tools.

You see, there’s a reason you won’t find spreadsheets and charts and bullet points and graphs in the Bible: Research confirms that story impacts humans in ways other types of information don’t.

The Bible is full of stories because our minds and hearts respond differently to stories. We engage with a story’s message more than we do with databases and worksheets and tables and lists.

Stories uniquely illustrate, illuminate, and educate.

“The human brain is literally hardwired to process stories differently than other forms of information….They create meaning from stories differently…. Stories can lift human hearts and make them soar into the heavens. Stories can literally change lives! The same information delivered in a non-story form rarely does so….” (Kendall Haven)

Peter Guber says it this way: “Stories…are far more than entertainment. They are the most effective form of human communication, more powerful than any other way of packaging information….

“Without stories,” Guber continues, “we couldn’t understand ourselves. [Stories]…give us much of the framework for much of our understanding… While we think of stories as…something extraneous to real work, they turn out to be the cornerstone of consciousness.”

Whether or not Haven and Guber knew it, they’re referring to the fact that God created humankind to respond to stories.

God uses stories. They are powerful. Stories are among God’s most compelling and successful tools.

As you write your memoir, then, recognize this: You’re participating in a God-inspired, God-planned practice that has taken place since before recorded history.

Yours is a sacred calling.

Your stories help readers examine their lives and make sense of who they are and why they were born.

They can help people find their way.

Your stories can pass on wisdom (which you might have earned the hard way) and motivate people to do the right thing.

They can calm anxiety and offer tenacious hope.

They can shine light on possibilities, offer solutions, and change a life’s direction.

Your stories can illustrate truth, honesty, and integrity.

They can inspire loyalty and commitment.

They can transform hate into love, fear into courage.

Your stories can teach, influence, empower, and heal.

They can break down barriers.

They can offer comfort, cheer, and redemption.

Your stories can solve mysteries.

They can inspire an awe of God.

They can lead people to His love and grace.

God can use your stories to change lives for now and eternity.

Read more of Peter Guber’s thoughts about story

at The Inside Story,

and Kendall Haven’s rich insights

at Kendall Haven Q & A.

And then, write your story.

You’ve received a high calling.

Remember your memoir’s ultimate purpose.

Cry, sweat, tremble, bleed

After all our toil and struggle to write our memoirs, how do we get people to read them?

We “Make ‘em cry, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em wait,” in the words of Wilkie Collins.

Speakers and writers follow that advice for obvious reasons: it keeps audiences engaged.

Over the past few weeks we’ve looked at how to ‘make ‘em laugh’

so now how do we make ‘em cry?

If you’ve tried writing your emotion, you know that can be a tough challenge, but in Writing Life Stories, Bill Roorbach suggests we employ method writing, a spin-off of method acting.

Here’s how method acting works: Before the curtain rises, the actor remembers a time in which he experienced the emotion he needs to act out. He spends time reliving that emotion so that when he steps on stage, he’s all wrapped up in that emotion and succeeds in playing his part.

Method writing, then, requires you to step out of the present and into the past. If you’re writing about a tragic event, take time (make time) to remember the event and relive it so you can rediscover the emotions you felt.

Avoid over-the-top hysteria, but be honest in admitting your emotions.

In the midst of reliving that situation and emotion, ask yourself:

• What was at stake? What did I have to lose or gain?
•  What dreams would never come true?
•  At the time, how did I envision that my life would never be the same?
•  Where would I find courage to live another day?
•  What were my fears, my hopes, my prayers?

When you are caught up again in that emotion, get it onto paper or computer screen.

Your “emotion should be so realistic and gripping that the reader can’t help but feel it too.…” (Becca Puglisi; emphasis mine)

To paraphrase Larry Brooks,

make your readers

happy they are not there,

yet grateful

to feel what it was like to be you.

Emotion: That’s how you make a way for readers to join you in your story, to make them care, to make them want to keep reading.

“Our best stories evoke an emotional response,

touch a deep cord,

and motivate action and change.”

 (Peter Guber; emphasis mine)

OK, are you ready? Go make ‘em cry!

Not fluff!

What comes to your mind when you read the following passage? Does it remind you of something?

“… [N]othing is more pleasing to the Holy One

than when you tell about the secret things

he is always doing for people

or trying to do if they give him half a chance.

I am thinking about all the things he has done for you

and your family, for instance.

Tell people about those things and never forget them yourself.

Tell them how

even on the darkest stretches of the road to Ecbatana,

he was always at your side

if you’d only had the eyes to see him.”

(Frederick Buechner,

from the novel On the Road with the Archangel;

emphasis mine)

I hope it reminds you of the theme verse for Spiritual Memoirs 101: 

Always remember, and never forget,

what you’ve seen God do for you,

and be sure to tell your children and grandchildren!

Deuteronomy 4:9

Here’s the same message in other words:

O God, let each generation tell its children of Your mighty acts;

let them retell stories of Your power.

Psalm 145:4

“Stories … are far more than entertainment,” says Peter Guber. “They are the most effectiveform of human communication, more powerful than any other way of packaging information.… Stories…connect us to others.… Without stories … we couldn’t  understand ourselves. They provoke our memory and give us much of the framework for much of our understanding.… While we think of stories as fluff, … something extraneous to real work, they turn out to be the cornerstone of consciousness.” (Peter Guber; emphasis mine)

Think of this: You have worked hard for the wisdom you’ve gained over the years. You’ve shed tears over the hard lessons you’ve learned. You know the regret over making poor choices and by now you’ve learned how to make better choices.  You’ve figured out life a little—and your stories could help others avoid some of the foolishness and heartache you have experienced.

You have been confounded by questions that seem to have no answers.

You have seen—maybe up close, maybe from a distance—injustice, prejudice, hatred, violence, corruption.

You have also made good choices and wise decisions. You have lived in ways that spill over as blessings for others. You’ve made choices that have given you peace. 

You have experienced God and His grace. His love. His forgiveness. The curious—the surprising, even hilarious—ways He sometimes leads.

You have scraped through the dirt and rocks of life and unearthed gems, and over the years they’ve become shiny and polished.

You’ve discovered, maybe the hard way, maybe through trial and error, what real love is.

You’ve reevaluated what’s really important in life. Your heart has softened. You’ve worked hard for success—the right kind of success. You’ve learned to laugh at yourself.

Write your stories. Be transparent. Be honest. Go deep.

God uses stories. They are among His most powerful, compelling, effective tools.

“…You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.” Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus (emphasis mine)

Your stories can change hearts. Give hope. Inspire faith. Teach courage. Motivate tenacity. Trigger joy.

Don’t let your stories remain secret.

Each of us will die some day.

Before that day comes, let’s write our stories!

They’ll never do anyone any good if they go to the grave with us.

Right?

Write!

”Jesus replied with a story.”

You, dear memoirist, are divinely linked to the reason Jesus told parables.

You see, there’s a reason you won’t find spreadsheets and charts and bullet points and graphs in the Bible. There’s a reason that, instead, the Bible is full of stories.

There’s a reason Jesus replied with a story (Luke 10:30).

You see, stories are among God’s most powerful and effective tools.

Your memoir’s stories can be among God’s most powerful and effective tools.

Stories uniquely illustrate, illuminate, and educate.

“Humans respond to ‘story’ differently than they do to the same content organized into any other narrative form and structure.…” says Kendall Haven.

Research has confirmed that “The human mind processes ‘stories’ differently than it does other narrative forms [such as ‘a lecture, a talk, a presentation’].” Haven continues, “Words and sentences—seemingly magically—suddenly become, in the mind of the listener, a story and, at that moment, the receiver’s mind begins to respond to and to process the material differently.…

“The human brain is literally hardwired to process stories differently than other forms of information.… They create meaning from stories differently.… Stories can lift human hearts and make them soar into the heavens. Stories can literally changes lives! The same information delivered in a non-story form rarely does so.…” (Kendall Haven, emphasis mine)

Peter Guber says it this way:  “Stories … are far more than entertainment. They are the most effective form of human communication, more powerful than any other way of packaging information.…

“PowerPoint presentations may be powered by state-of-the-art technology. But reams of data rarely engage people and move them to action. Stories, on the other hand, are state-of-the-heart technology—they connect us to others.… Without stories,” Guber says, “we couldn’t understand ourselves. They … give us much of the framework for much of our understanding.… While we think of stories as fluff, … something extraneous to real work, they turn out to be the cornerstone of consciousness.” (Peter Guber, emphasis mine; http://www.psychologytoday.com/collections/201106/the-power-stories/the-inside-story)

Whether Haven and Guber know it or not, they’re referring to the fact that God created humankind to respond to stories.

God uses stories. They are powerful. Stories are among God’s most compelling and successful tools.

As you write your memoirs, then, recognize you’re participating in a God-inspired, God-planned practice that has taken place since before recorded history.

Yours is a sacred calling.

Your stories can help readers examine their lives and make sense of who they are and why they were born. They can help people find their way.

Your stories can pass on wisdom and motivate people to do the right thing and to live honorable lives.

They can calm anxiety and offer tenacious hope.

They can shine light on possibilities, offer solutions, and change a life’s direction.

Your stories can illustrate truth, honesty, and integrity.

They can inspire loyalty and commitment.

Your stories can transform hate into love, fear into courage.

Your stories can teach, influence, empower, and heal.

They can break down barriers.

They can bring comfort, cheer, and redemption.

Your stories can solve mysteries and help people make decisions.

They can inspire an awe of God, His majesty and glory.  

They can lead people to His love and grace.

God can use your stories to change someone’s life for now and eternity.

Write your story! 

Remember your memoir’s ultimate purpose. 

(Click on that link!)

Make ‘em cry

You want your memoir to bless others, right? You want it to comfort, encourage, and change readers for the better.

But your memoir will not impact others unless they read it.

After all your effort to write your memoir, how do you get people to read it?

You must make a way for readers to get into your story—

to join you in your story—

to make them care—

to make them want to keep reading.

How do you do that? By including emotions.

“The heart is always 

the first target 

in telling purposeful stories. 

Stories must give listeners 

an emotional experience 

if they are to ignite a call to action.” 

(Peter Guber)

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

Last week we covered “make ‘em laugh,” and I hope you’ve had fun writing humor into your rough drafts. Humor is important—readers will give you only so long before they decide whether they like you and your story—so if you missed last week’s post, check it out.

This week we’ll look at “make ‘em cry.”

Sometimes people wonder—mainly men, I suspect—why we should include sorrows and struggles and angst in our memoirs.

The reasons to include the hard things are many:

“Our sufferings and pains are not simply bothersome interruptions of our lives.” (Henri Nouwen)

Often during the hardest times, we learned our most important lessons.

Difficulties can get our attention.

They can make us cling to God.

They can give us a holy discontent over things that are not right in our lives.

Sorrows can be the stuff of turning points and second chances.

They can lead to personal victories.

Furthermore, sharing our struggle benefits readers. When we make ourselves vulnerable and write about our hurts, readers recognize they have something in common with us.

That, in turn, serves as an invitation to enter into our stories and learn lessons for themselves through our experiences because:

“…Stories can be a stand-in for life, allowing us [readers] to expand our 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)

So there you have yet another reason to share painful parts of our lives:  We offer readers experience, wisdom, and choices. We can point them to God.

“Your story should incorporate some joy. But pain is the Great Teacher,” says Donald Miller. “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.” (emphasis mine; from Joe Bunting's blog post, The Meaning of Pain)

Things that made you cry shaped you. They 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 Donald Miller calls “bringing life.”

So how do you make ‘em cry? It can be a tough assignment.

First, be honest. Avoid exaggeration. Your reader needs to be able to trust you.

Second, practice what Bill Roorbach calls Method Writing, a spin-off of method acting.  (from his Writing Life Stories)

Here’s how method acting works: Before the curtain rises, the actor remembers a time in which he experienced the emotion he needs to act out. He spends time reliving that emotion so that when he steps on stage, he is gripped in that emotion and succeeds in playing his part.

Method writing, then, requires you to step out of the present and into the past. If you’re writing about a tragic event, take time (make time) to remember the event and rediscover the emotions you felt.

In the midst of reliving that situation and emotion, ask yourself:

What was at stake? What did I have to lose or gain?

At the time, how did I envision that this situation could change my life?

What were my fears, my hopes, my prayers?

When you are caught up again in that event and emotion, get it onto paper.

Your “emotion should be so realistic and gripping that the reader can’t help but feel it too.…” (Becca Puglisi)

To paraphrase Larry Brooks, make your readers happy they are not there, yet grateful to feel what it was like to be you.

Emotion: That’s how you make a way for readers to join you in your story, to make them care, to keep them reading.

"Our best stories 

evoke an emotional response, 

touch a deep cord, 

and motivate action and change." 

(Peter Guber)

OK, are you ready? Go make ‘em cry!