A fun project for you: Describe autumn

 

Autumn is here!

 

Well . . . on the calendar, anyway.

 

In our state summer weather has dominated autumn, but we did have two frosts recently. Temps have been in the eighties since then, but the frosts have inspired leaves to begin changing colors. Soon, it seems, autumn will be here to stay.

 

And that has me thinking . . .

 

Do any of your memoir’s stories take place in autumn?

If so, now is an ideal time to gather words

to describe those scenes.

 

Sensory details:

sounds, smells, textures, sights, and tastes.

 

Such rich details invite readers to join you in your story

and to experience what you experienced.

 

In addition, sensory details can send readers back in time

and revive memories of their own similar experiences.

 

That, in turn, enables readers 

to have an emotional connection with you.

Bonding is good.

 

Here, then, is the task before you:

Study autumn details around you this month and next.

Make time to stir up memories of:

• what autumn sounded like in your story,
• what it smelled like,
• what textures and temperatures your skin felt,
• what autumn details you saw with your eyes,
• and the unique tastes and flavors of autumn.

 

Embrace this lovely advice from Judith Barrington:

 

“When you write, ‘. . . it’s always a good idea to get up very close and start using your senses. . . . describing some of the details, using your ears and eyes, calling up a smell that belongs to the story, or reaching an imaginary hand back through time to touch a piece of furniture, or the texture of a dress, or someone’s skin. . . .’” (Writing the Memoir)

 

With these points in mind, you’ll enjoy Elizabeth Stout’s description of a minister taking an autumn drive on a back road “with the window down, his elbow resting on the window edge, ducking his head to peer . . . at the side of a barn, fresh with red paint, lit by this autumn sun. . . . when every flicker of light that touched the dipping branches of a weeping willow, every breath of breeze that bent the grass toward the row of apple trees, every shower of yellow gingko leaves dropping to the ground with . . . direct and tender sweetness. . . .” (from Abide with Me)

 

Set aside time to find words to make the following come alive for readers:

• the sound of leaves crunching underfoot—or if the ground was wet, the sound of squishy, soggy, damp leaves
• the smell of wet leaves on the ground, that earthy smell that drifts up from plant life dying and rotting and getting moldy
• the scent of leaves that are crisp and brittle in the sunshine, disbursing a spicy—maybe even sweet—perfume
• the fragrance as well as taste of pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin spice coffee, pumpkin spice candles, (nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon, allspice)
• the taste of Halloween Candy, Thanksgiving turkey, and caramel apples
• the smell or the sight of woodsmoke filling the air from fireplaces or bonfires
• the feel of icy fingers and a cold, runny nose

 

Here’s another idea: Get creative in describing colors. Instead of calling autumn leaves “red,” describe them as “crimson.”

 

Instead of “reddish-brown,” try “auburn” or “rusty.”

 

To describe something that’s golden yellow-orange, consider using “amber.”

 

If something was “brown,” describe it as “cinnamon brown” or “coffee colored.”

 

Instead of “orange,” think about “tangerine.”

 

For more ideas, click on Color and Pattern Thesaurus at One Stop for Writers.

 

Here’s a final tidbit to enthuse you:

 

Houston journalist, TV reporter, and author, Tom Abrahams, said:

 

“I was always amazed by how somebody

could tell a story that I could see inside my head,

and that could take me somewhere else.”

 

Be inspired by Tom:

 

Use sensory details  to tell a story

readers can see inside their heads—

and more:

that they can also hear, smell, feel, and taste.

 

Invite them to join you in your story, or,

as Tom said it: Take readers there with you.

 

 

 

Back to Basics: Refuse to let cardboard characters lurk in your memoir!

 

“No one wants to be known for writing flat, boring, cardboard characters,” says Carly Sandifer.

 

“. . . Pick the particularly telling details that can make the difference between a cardboard character and a real, live person,” Judith Barrington says. It’s a matter “of selecting those few [details] that capture the essence of the person . . . .” (Writing the Memoir)

 

That’s your goal as a memoirist: “Capture the essence of the person.”

 

How, specifically, can you do that?

 

By employing the good old tried-and-true principle:

SHOW, DON’T TELL.

SHOW your main characters to your readers

rather than TELL readers about them.

 

“Why do we need to show?” asks author Cecil Murphey. “Telling is like overhearing someone talk about another person. Showing is like meeting the person.”

 

For example, instead of telling readers that a lady was “beautiful,”

show readers—describe her in such a way

that your reader will conclude for himself, “She was beautiful.”

 

Mark and Delia Owens could have told readers that Lionel was a problem drinker and a partier, but instead, they showed readers. They wrote:

 

“Lionel Palmer, deeply tanned, his dark hair brushed with grey, was dressed in baggy jeans, a cowboy shirt, and a bandana. He sauntered out to greet us, holding a glass of whisky in his hand. The oldest and most experienced professional hunter in the area, Lionel held considerable social position in Maun. He was famous for his parties, where bedroom furniture sometimes ended up on the roof, and once a Land Rover had been hung in a fig tree—and for his capacity for Scotch. Once, after several days of intoxication, he woke up with a stabbing earache. The doctor at the clinic removed a two-inch-long sausage fly—a reddish-brown tubelike, winged insect—which had taken up residence in Lionel’s numbed ear while he slept off his drunkenness in a flowerbed. For a week Lionel carried the fly’s carcass bedded down in a cotton-lined matchbox, proudly showing it to everyone he met, whether or not he knew them.” (Cry of the Kalahari)

 

Notice the way author Kristin Hanna showed Anouk to readers:

 

"Isabelle looked up, expecting to see German soldiers, but it was Anouk. She was dressed, as usual, more for her temperament than the season, in all black. A fitted V-neck black sweater and straight skirt with a black beret and gloves. A Gauloises cigarette hung from her bright red lips.

 

"She paused at the open doorway. . . . The Germans turned. Anouk let the door shut behind her. She casually lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply. . . .

 

"Anouk walked forward with a regal, disdainful air. . . . The Germans fell silent, watching her, moving sideways to let her pass. Isabelle heard one of them say ‘mannish’ and another ‘widow.’

 

"Anouk seemed not to notice them at all. At the counter she stopped and took a drag on her cigarette. The smoke blurred her face, and for a moment, only her cherry-red lips were noticeable. . . .

 

"Anouk turned and left the bookshop. It wasn’t until the bell tinkled that the spell broke and the [German] soldiers began speaking again.” (Nightingale)

 

Here’s another example, this one from Fred Craddock’s “Preaching as Storytelling”:

 

“‘There was this beggar sitting at the gate.’ Wait a minute. Give me a chance to experience the beggar at the gate. See the rags, smell the odor, hear the coins in the tin cup, see the hollow eyes.” (from The Art and Craft of Biblical Preaching)

 

Think about your memoir’s main characters.

 

If one of them was smarmy, find words to craft a scene showing readers he was creepy.

 

If she was weird, create a scene to show she was strange. Bizarre. Eccentric.

 

If he was intellectual, use words to show he was cerebral. Scholarly.

 

Let readers in on a person’s idiosyncrasies and gestures. Did she live life at a half-run, or did she plod through life?

 

Did he make people uncomfortable by standing too close when he talked with them?

 

Did he make a funny little noise in his throat when he was nervous?

 

Instead of telling readers “He was angry,” show them his clenched jaw, flared nostrils, red face, or cold flashing eyes. Let readers hear the yelling and the slammed door.

 

Capture sweet moments, hilarious times, personality quirks, demonstrations of courage, integrity, tenacity in the face of obstacles, or high adventure—all make for great reading.

 

Consider the following when developing your main characters. Was he/she:

 

Generous or selfish

Dull or quick-witted

Charming or dreary

Stand-offish or welcoming

Gentle or gruff

Thoughtful or insensitive

Tall or short

Plump or skinny

Young or old

Agile or awkward

Generous or stingy

Composed or nervous

Gloomy or merry

Foolish or wise

Erratic or steady

Polished or frumpy

Uncouth or refined

Hilarious or humorless

 

“This is the recording of everyday gestures, habits, manners, customs, . . . clothing, decoration, styles of traveling, eating, keeping house, modes of behaving toward children, servants, superiors, inferiors, peers, plus the various looks, glances, poses, styles of walking and other symbolic details that might exist. . . .” (Roy Peter Clark quoting Tom Wolfe)

 

Your job is to develop multi-dimensional,

memorable, compelling, well-rounded personalities.

 

Capture unique details about your main characters—

physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual.

Reveal personality, beliefs, idiosyncrasies, and heart.

 

Develop characters your readers can experience

in the ways you experienced them.

 

 Take a minute to read Cecil Murphey’s post, “Show me! Show me!”

 

You’ll also enjoy Carly Sandifer’s post, “What I learned from Truman Capote about character description.” In it, Carly wrote, “Capote didn’t have to write about [tell readers about] his character, ‘She was a moral person,’ because he shows it.”

 

Back to Basics: How to create “a sensory world that you and your readers can inhabit together”

 

I can’t remember the book’s title or author but, some fifteen years later, I still recall the main character—but not in a positive way. I knew almost nothing of her physical appearance or inner qualities.

 

The author had created a stick figure. I had little interest in the longings of the character’s heart or the setbacks she faced. I wasn’t cheering for her.

 

When you write your memoir, avoid making the same mistake. Make key people come alive! Help readers to sense they’re with you in your experience, seeing what you’re seeing, smelling what you’re smelling, hearing conversations alongside you.

 

Roy Peter Clark, one of my favorite writing mentors, says:

 

“In the best of cases—when craft rises to art—the author conjures a character that seems fully present to the reader, a man standing against that very light post waving you over for a conversation.” (“Keeping it real: how round characters grow from the seeds of detail”)

 

I like that: Characters that seem “fully present to the reader.”

 

Write so your memoir’s central characters become more than a shadow in the corner.

 

That’s often easier said than done.

 

In his webinar entitled “They Walk! They Talk! Secrets to Writing Engaging Characters and Vivid Dialogue,” Dinty Moore said:

 

“Characterization in memoir is always a challenge:

how can we make the people we know feel as real

and alive for readers as they do to us?

 

As writers, we must remember that

our readers have never met the people in our memoir;

they know only what we tell them.

 

And sometimes, we know our characters—

family, friends, enemies—so well

that we forget we need to introduce them

in all their complexity. . . .”

(Dinty Moore)

 

How do you do that?

 

For starters, this week we’re paying attention to sensory details: sight, smell, feel, sound, and taste.

Judith Barrington explained, “This is not a matter of throwing an abundance of details—say, of a person's visual appearance—at the reader, but of selecting those few that capture the essence of the person . . . a quirk of speech, a mannerism, the way his hair falls across his face, an item of clothing, the smell of her, or how she walks.” (Writing the Memoir) 

 

Study William Kent Krueger's uses of sight (what a reader would see—would envision) in this example about a man named Wally Schanno in Iron Lake:

“In his mid-fifties, he was tall and lean, had hollow cheeks, thick pale lips, and a nose like a big ragged chunk of granite shoved in his face. . . . His enormous feet required shoes factory-ordered straight from Red Wing, Minnesota. . . . He had a penchant for suspenders—nothing wild, just plain red, or black, or gray—and he almost never sported a tie.”

Let me share a personal story. We were attending a gathering in Seattle, Washington, when my daughter Karen overheard someone—someone she didn't know—refer to her three sons as “surfer boys.” Now, Karen and her husband live in Malibu, California, and indeed their boys are surfers. But she was surprised a stranger could look at her boys and recognize they were surfers.

It shook her up. “Mom,” she whispered, “how could they know my boys are surfers?” Karen was so immersed in the surfer culture that her boys looked normal to her, no different from other people. She needed to step back and pin down her surfer-sons' prominent attributes.

Take a fresh look at key persons in your memoir. 

What unique features would others like or need to know?

For example, what makes surfers look different from most other Americans? Their hair often gives them away. Surfer guys' hair is longer than most guys' hair, unruly—tousled and tangled—sun-bleached, and often stiff from saltwater. Surfers usually have deep tans on their muscular bodies. They often have salt caked on their eyelashes. They walk around with sand sticking to their feet and legs, which they bring with them into their trucks and homes. You'll often see a black wetsuit drying on the porch railing.

What does a surfer sound like? Pin down his vocabulary. If something is  “gnarly,” it is awesome. If he describes a fellow surfer as being “goofy-footed,” he's talking about someone who places his right foot (instead of his left foot) at the front of the surfboard.

What distinctive features can you include in describing your key people? Maybe a woman in your story spoke with a Canadian accent and pronounced “out” and “about” in that distinctive Canadian way. (I can poke fun at Canadians because I'm related to a number of them. In fact, I'm told I have a Canadian accent.) If a character was a ballerina, did she walk tall and straight and gracefully? Use sensory details to describe them.

For example, if a reader had stood with you in the presence of a pastry chef or a dairy farmer, what would your reader have seen, smelled, felt, heard, or tasted?

 

Think about sitting on your dad’s lap when you were a little kid. Did you smell his aftershave? Or the beer on his breath?

 

Kathleen Pooler, in her vignette “Seeds of Faith,” wrote of what she smelled, heard, and felt when visiting her great-grandmother:

 

“I sat on the edge of the bed and she pulled me close. . . . ‘God bless. God bless,’ she whispered. The musty scent of age lingered as she gently rubbed my back. . . . Her tiny hands felt smooth, like a soft leather glove.”

 

Incorporate a person’s facial expression. What did your boss’s eyes look like when he was mad at you?

 

When you hid in the woods and smoked cigarettes after school, how could you tell, when you got home, that your mother had already found out? What did her face look like—her eyes, her mouth? Did her nostrils flare? What did her voice sound like? Did she yell, or did she give you the silent treatment? Did she cry? Or laugh?

 

Look over your rough drafts and breathe life into your memoir’s main characters.

 

“Pull your readers closer . . . into a sensory world

that you and your readers can inhabit together.”

(Judith Barrington, Writing the Memoir)

 

Come back next week: I’ll share more secrets

on how to develop your memoir’s main characters.

 

Back to Basics: Details, a must for your memoir

 

The holidays are over—!! So . . .

we’re returning to our Back to the Basics series

for our newcomers—and for all of us,

no matter where we are

in the writing of our memoirs.

 

You want your story to come to life so readers will feel they’re a part of your experience. Sensory details can do that for your readers.

 

Your task is to write so readers connect with you. Invite them to see, feel, hear, taste, and smell what you saw, felt, heard, tasted, and smelled. That way they can enter into your story with you.

 

Make your story happen all over again, this time for your readers.

 

The following quote will help you understand sensory details and why they’re important:

 

 

“You must recreate how you experienced the places,

people and situations of your life experiences

through the senses.

Where you were and what was happening to you

originally came in through your ears,

nose, tongue, skin, and eyes.

That is what the reader needs, too,

to experience your world

and draw the conclusions you did . . . .

 

As writers we must learn to rely on the outer world

for the images a situation provides,

rather than relying on thoughts and summaries.

Sure, those will come into our writing, at times,

but using them sparingly . . .

makes them all the more powerful.”

Sheila Bender,

“Letting Images Do the Talking”

 

 

Below, I offer you additional quotes for inspiration:

 

 

“In writing, imagery is the key

that can unlock a reader’s imagination.

When an image is rendered with the right combination of words,

it magically appears in the reader’s mind

like a photograph or a film clip.”

Melissa Donovan,

“Creative Writing Prompts for Crafting Compelling Imagery”

 

 

“Concentrate your narrative energy on the point of change. . . .

When your character is in a new place,

or things alter around them,

that’s the point to step back

and fill in the details of their world.”

Hilary Mantel,

“23 Writing Tips from Booker-Prize Winning Authors”

 

 

“If you’re like most writers

the dominant sense is visual.

That’s because most of us write ‘by sight.’

That is, we include what we see and, sometimes,

what we hear.

Rarely what we smell, taste, or feel (as in the sense of touch).

If your writing tends to fall within this ‘mostly sight’ category,

you may fail to engage your readers.

If you want to write vivid memories,

then you must learn to remember vividly—

not just see, but smell, taste, feel, and hear those memories. . . .”

Amber Lea Starfire,

“From Memories to Memoir, Part 3—Remembering Vividly”

(See Amber’s whole post for step-by-step tips

on how to remember vividly.)

  

Look over your rough drafts and have fun crafting scenes that include what you want your readers to see, smell, taste, feel, and hear.

 

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!

 

Write life into your memoir’s main characters

 

Invite readers into your memoir by bringing life to key people in your stories.

 

Roy Peter Clark, one of my favorite writing mentors, says:

 

“In the best of cases—when craft rises to art—the author conjures a character that seems fully present to the reader, a man standing against that very light post waving you over for a conversation.” (“Keeping it real: how round characters grow from the seeds of detail”)

 

I like that: characters that seem “fully present for the reader.”

 

Write so the central characters become more than a shadow in the corner.

 

Develop your main characters so readers feel they’re in the scene, reliving your experiences and conversations alongside you.

 

That’s often easier said than done.

In his webinar entitled “They Walk! They Talk! Secrets to Writing Engaging Characters and Vivid Dialogue,” Dinty Moore said:

“Characterization in memoir is always a challenge:

how can we make the people we know

feel as real and alive for readers as they do for us?

As writers, we must remember that our readers

have never met the people in our memoir;

they know only what we tell them.

And sometimes, we know our characters—

family, friends, enemies—

so well that we forget we need to introduce them

in all their complexity. . . .”

How do you make your main characters feel real and alive? By including specific details about them.

 

For starters, pay attention to sensory details. If your reader had stood with you in the presence of that person—a pastry chef, for example, or a dairy farmer—what would your reader have seen, smelled, felt, heard, and tasted?

 

Think about sitting on your dad’s lap when you were a little kid. Did you smell his aftershave? Or the beer on his breath?

 

Kathleen Pooler, in her vignette Seeds of Faith, writes of the smell in her great-grandmother’s room: “I sat on the edge of the bed and she pulled me close. . . . ‘God bless, God bless,’ she whispered. The musty scent of age lingered as she gently rubbed my back.”

 

Kathleen also writes, “Her tiny hands felt smooth, like a soft leather glove.”

 

Let your readers in on a person’s idiosyncrasies and gestures. Did she live life at a half-run, or did she plod through life? Did he make people uncomfortable by standing too close when he talked to them? Did he make a funny little noise in his throat when he was nervous?

 

Incorporate a person’s facial expressions. What did your boss’s eyes look like when he was mad at you?

 

When you hid in the woods and smoked cigarettes after school, how could you tell, when you got home, that your mother had already found out? What did her face look like—her eyes, her mouth? Did her nostrils flare? What was her voice like? Did she yell, or did she give you the silent treatment? Did she pinch your ear? Did she cry? Or laugh?

 

Look over your rough drafts and 

breathe life into your memoir’s main characters.

 

“Pull your readers closer . . . into a sensory world

that you and your readers can inhabit together.”

(Judith Barrington, Writing the Memoir)

 

A mother is “the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street”

Last week in the memoir class I lead, we discussed the importance of bringing a memoir’s main characters to life.

Readers need to feel they’re at least acquainted with (and maybe even attached to) key people. You don’t need to flesh out every person in your memoir, but readers want to connect with your main characters. When they do, they feel more immersed in your story and keep reading.

onewildword.com/2011/07/03

 Similarly, you don’t need to tell readers everything about a key character. Discern the most relevant attributes and leave out the rest. If your character was an avid fisherman and a Kansas City Chiefs fan but those details have no relevance to your story, you can probably leave out that information. (How about those Chiefs and their Super Bowl win?!)

In Writing the Memoir, Judith Barrington says, “Characters come alive when you pick the particularly telling details that can make the difference between a cardboard character and a real, live person.” She says we should select “those few [details] that capture the essence of that person . . . a quirk of speech, a mannerism, the way his hair falls across his face, an item of clothing, the smell of her, or how she walks.”

Today let’s think about mothers—maybe your mother, a friend’s mother, a friend or relative who is a mother, or a mother-in-law. You want to create realistic characters, capturing their most significant features and actions and habits and mannerisms.

Mary Larmoyeux shows us a lovely poem, "Your Mother Is Always With You," by Deborah R. Culver:

Your mother is always with you.

She’s the whisper of the leaves

as you walk down the street.

She’s the smell of certain foods you remember,

flowers you pick, the fragrance of life itself.

She’s the cool hand on your brow

when you’re not feeling well.

She’s your breath in the air on a cold winter’s day.

She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep,

the colors of a rainbow;

she is Christmas morning.

Your mother lives inside your laughter.

She’s the place you came from, your first home,

and she’s the map you follow with every step you take.

She’s your first love, your first friend,

even your first enemy,

but nothing on earth can separate you—

not time, not space, not even death.

(Deborah R. Culver, "Your Mother Is Always With You," 

used by permission)

Then Mary Larmoyeux paraphrased Deborah’s poem to describe her own mother. Here are excerpts from her "My Mother Is Always With Me":

My mother is . . . the reminder that things work out.

She’s the smell of sugar cookies . . .

and Sunday roast . . .

and the sight of kneading bread. 

She’s the hand that picked Magnolias,

the sound of prayers with Dad.

She’s the word of kindness needed,

the trust that God’s nearby. . . .

She’s the place that I came from, my first home—

one I’ll always know. . . .

(Mary Larmoyeux, “My Mother Is Always With Me.”)

Set aside a few minutes to do what Mary did:  Using Deborah R. Culver’s original quote for inspiration, capture the essence of the mother you’re writing about.

Was she refined and elegant—or salty like Tugboat Annie?

Was she boisterous—or mild-mannered?

Wild and scatterbrained—or methodical and orderly?

Courageous—or cowardly?

Haughty and self-important—or humble and modest?

Self-absorbed—or selfless?

Savvy, graceful, strong—or uninformed, clumsy, weak?  

Petite—or tall?

Slender—or obese?

Did she have a sense of humor—or was she clueless?

What were her rituals, her habits, her hobbies, her quirks?

Did she have a short fuse? A voice like an angel? A contagious laugh? A heart of gold?

What did she believe?

What did she live for?

Review the attributes Deborah R. Culver

and Mary Larmoyeux used.

Capture similar details about a mother in your story.

All of us have stories about a mother—your mother,

a friend’s mother, a friend who is a mother,

 or your mother-in-law.

Make her come alive for your readers.

Make time to write.

If you will, your readers and their families

will be all the richer for them.