My computer is misbehaving so today's post will be brief. I hope . . . I trust . . . you'll find much to cherish in Diana Trautwein's quote below.
Let it be your inspiration
Someone needs to know your story.
It's important.
Keep up the good work.
Think of it as ministry, not a hobby.
Offer it up to God as an act of worship.
Your
ancestors and mine included a lot of fine people, but let’s be honest: Our
family trees also include at least a few dysfunctional people—parents, grandparents,
great-grandparents. Some carried out unhealthy practices and held offensive attitudes.
And
now our generation has skeletons in the closet. Every family has baggage.
You
know—the enabler.
Or
the one who should have protected you but didn’t.
The
bully, the controller, the know-it-all.
The
petty one always looking for ways to take offense and blame you.
Your
grandfather might have been a wife-beater.
Perhaps
your father was quick to criticize and slow to praise.
Maybe
your mother was egotistical and self-absorbed.
Your
family tree might include a drunkard, a liar, murderer, adulterer, sex addict,
drug addict, or a thief.
Even
Jesus’ genealogical chart shows ill-famed characters: Rahab was a prostitute
and King Manasseh deliberately defied God, carried out evil, and led God’s
people astray.
Your
family’s imperfect people have influenced you.
Some
of the dysfunctional ones have played major roles in your life.
So,
how should you, a memoirist, write about your people and their baggage?
First,
examine your motive. That is all-important!
Hear
this: Memoir is not about revenge.
Forbid
yourself to use your memoir to shame people.
Refrain
from humiliating anyone.
Refuse
to get even.
Writing
a memoir can bring much-needed healing
to
you, the writer.
And
writing can help break the cycle
of
hand-me-down hang-ups
that
crippled your family’s generations—
but
focus on the right reason to write about your people.
“God’s
Word clearly expresses
what
a good and effective teacher the past can be.
The
past will be a good teacher
if
we will simply approach it as a good student,
from
the perspective of what we can gain
and
how God can use it for His glory.”
(Beth
Moore, Breaking Free)
Do
everything you must to be at peace with God:
Wrapped
in God’s grace and mercy—that’s where you find peace with God.
Then
pass it on: In writing your memoir,
you
don’t need to act as if sins against you and others
were
somehow okay.
They
weren’t.
But
I encourage you to extend to your ancestors
the
same forgiveness, grace, and mercy God extended to you.
Read
the following slowly, and then read it again. Take in its message:
“Thank
God that
although
you cannot change the past,
He
can help you change what you’re doing with it!
And
the changes He makes in you
in
the present
can
certainly change the future!”
(Beth
Moore, Breaking Free)
“Your
story is important.” You’ve heard me say those words at least a hundred times.
“Someone
needs to know your story.” I’ve also said those words over and over again.
I
keep receiving reminders of those words and the truth of them, so I keep
reminding you, too.
For
example, just this morning I read the following words from Lloyd Ogilvie:
“All
we have and are is a gift of grace to be shared. Everything that happens to us prepares
us to develop deep, sharing relationships. . . . Everything grace has given us
is for others.”
Ogilvie continues: “When we go through the valleys of trials or stand on the mountaintops
of victory, we are being prepared to enter into the difficulties and victories
of others.
“We
go through all of this so that we can be able to say those empowering words of
empathy, ‘I know what you are going through—I’ve been there!’
“Life
is a school of grace
equipping
us for a ministry of sharing,
developing
confidence so we can say,
‘Thank
You, Lord, for what has happened.
I
can’t wait to see how You are going to use
what
You have taught me
in
sharing with someone
who
will need just what I discovered!”
(Lloyd
Ogilvie, Silent Strength for My Life)
And
now I hope the following Andrew Solomon quote makes you chuckle, but I also
hope it inspires awe.
“It
is the precondition of human tenderness, mightier than the sword but also
infinitely more subtle and ultimately more urgent.
“Remember
that writing things down makes them real; that it is nearly impossible to hate
anyone whose story you know; and, most of all, that even in our post
post-modern era, writing has a moral purpose.”
“With
twenty-six shapes arranged in varying patterns,
we
can tell every story known to mankind,
and
make up all the new ones. . . .
If
you can give language to experiences previously starved for it,
you
can make the world a better place.”
By
now you recognize how important remembering is when writing a memoir.
Reflecting—examining
the past, discovering deeper significance than you recognized at the time.
Remembering
and analyzing and piecing together can bring deep healing—and might even change
the direction of our lives.
Reflecting
on what God has done for us and through us can be life-changing.
Sometimes,
however, our introspection
leads
to painful memories, regrets, shame.
Our
hearts become troubled.
You
know what a troubled heart feels like.
So
do I.
Sometimes
it hurts for a long, long time.
And yet, Jesus said, “Don't let your hearts be troubled” (John 14:1).
Lloyd Ogilvie offers us this consolation and hope: “We have a place to go with our troubled hearts—the heart of God.
God’s heart is “a place of reconciliation, forgiveness, and acceptance. . . . We were created to abide in His heart of love. . . . An intimate communion awaits us where we can unburden all our troubles and receive strength.” (Lloyd Ogilvie, Silent Strength for My Life)
Take
in Henri Nouwen’s words: “We are people with souls, sparks of the divine. To
acknowledge the truth about ourselves is to claim the sacredness of our being,
without fully understanding it.” Nouwen says we must “trust that our souls are
embraced by a loving God.” (Bread for the Journey)
“Solitude,
silence, and prayer . . .
offer
solutions
for
the complexity of our lives . . .
because
they bring us in touch with
our
sacred center, where God dwells. . . .
It
is the place of adoration, thanksgiving, and praise.”
May
God bring healing to our painful memories
and
our troubled hearts,
and
may we rejoice in Him
as
we dwell in that lovely place in His heart.
“Maybe
you don’t think of yourself as a part of the sweep of history. Think again.” So
says Biff Barnes.
You
are a witness to history.
Good
details in your memoir about the history
you experienced can make all the difference in whether you draw readers into
your story. To pull them in is a must.
Think
back.
Do you
remember reading a book in which
you were
in the story with its writer?
You
tasted what he tasted. You smelled what she smelled.
You saw events
he witnessed. You heard sounds she heard.
You felt
the pain or textures or temperatures he felt.
We call
those sensory details.
Think
back again.
Have you
ever read a book
that kept
you at a distance—
a story
that made you feel like an observer
on the
outside, unable to get in?
If so,
then you know how much richer it is
for a
reader to live inside a story.
That’s
what you want to do for your readers—
write
your memoir so they get “zipped into your skin,”
in the
words of memoirist Mary Karr.
You
can “zip readers in” by including historical details of the era. To establish
your story’s historical backdrop, the following details help create a sense of
place and time:
By
age 25, I had witnessed Sputnik, rock ‘n’ roll, the Cuban Missile Crisis, JFK’s
death, the Beatles, Dr. Martin Luther King’s death, the hippie era, the
feminist movement, humankind’s first walk on the moon, and the Vietnam war.
They all influenced and shaped me.
What
history-making events influenced and shaped you?
Make
a list.
Then
ask yourself: Did one or more of them
Here’s
another question: How did you influence and shape history? Take to heart
what Biff Barnes said: You have been “a
part of the sweep of history.” What roles did you play in history-making
events? Perhaps you played a small role, or maybe you played a prominent role.
I’m
eager to tell you about a fun tool you can use to enhance your story’s
historical context: Check out a website from The Atlantic called Life Timeline.
When
you enter your birthdate, you’ll see a list of historical events that occurred
during your lifetime, and you’ll find links to articles about those events.
Enjoy this fun tool to enhance the vibrancy and power of your memoir and to
create a story your readers can experience along with you.
This week I have something really fun for you.
In her delightful book, The Writer’s Portable Mentor,
Priscilla Long describes the enjoyment and value of word lexicons.
Word lexicons = collections of words and phrases.
Especially significant are word lexicons that pertain
to a specific written piece—your memoir, for example.
Priscilla can tell by reading a person’s writing
whether he or she collected words and phrases—what she calls The Lexicon
Practice. She writes:
“Writers who do the Lexicon Practice
have left in the dust what I call
‘conventional received diction.’
Writers who don’t do it . . .
are pretty much stuck with television words,
newspaper words, cereal-box words.”
A writing instructor at the University of Washington
and a widely published author, Priscilla collected words from her childhood for
a collection of stories she planned to write: “greenbriar, dirt road, Neil
Lindsey’s pig, 4-H Club . . . calf barn, gutter, manure pile, manure spreader,
marsh grass. . . .”
Your memoir has its own lexicon, its own unique set
of words and phrases. Use them to define your story, to enrich it, to make it
come alive for your readers.
You’ll want to compose several lexicons because,
Priscilla points out, individuals have lexicons, places have lexicons, and “every
craft, trade, profession, or job. . . .”
I especially enjoy her lexicon for the Pacific
Northwest, my home: “crow, Puget Sound, Steilacoom Tribe, western red cedar,
Smith Tower, Emmett Watson’s Oyster Bar, Starbucks, Northwest jellyfish,
geoduck (pronounced gooey duck), Stillaguamish River. . . .” Priscilla nailed
it with those words.
Which words and phrases belong in the lexicon for
your memoir?
When composing your lexicons, think about these
possibilities for your story’s historical setting and physical location:
Collect other words and phrases for main characters
in your memoir and professions/occupations.
Create as many lexicons as you need to enrich your
memoir.
Remember what Priscilla said:
“Writers who do the Lexicon Practice
have left in the dust
what I call ‘conventional received diction.’
Writers who don’t do it . . .
are pretty much stuck with television words,
newspaper words, cereal-box words.”
“Words—especially
religious words, words that have to do with the depth of things—get tired and
stale the way people do,” writes Frederick Buechner. “Find new words or put old
words together in combinations that make them heard as new, make you yourself
new, and make you understand in new ways.” (From Now and Then; emphasis mine)
Think
about it: Written words are merely scribbles and scratches on paper or black
squiggles on a computer screen.
But words
pack punch. They have power. Potential.
Words
inspire, comfort, entertain, make the heart soar, cause laughter or tears.
Words can change lives.
Words are
a memoirist’s most important tools. We must use them with excellence.
Use crisp,
bright, refreshing words—
but avoid
ornamental words,
extravagant,
snobbish words,
self-important
words to impress readers,
elusive
words that make your readers get up and find a dictionary.
A good
thesaurus and dictionary can be a memoirist’s best friend. Computer programs
usually have a thesaurus—a minimal one, but one that can help find a better
word quickly.
“There is
something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you
prisoner,” writes Diane Setterfield. “Wind them around your limbs like spider
silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin,
enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.”
James Michener writes, “I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human
emotions.”
“The right
words in the right order might be worth a thousand pictures,” says Roy Peter
Clark in How to Write Short.
“Words
whispered, shouted, and sung.
Words that
move, dance,
and change
in size and color.
Words that
say,
When God
says,
‘Let there
be light’ (Genesis 1:30),
light is.
. . .
It is this
creative power of the word
we need to
reclaim.”
Henri
Nouwen, Bread for the Journey;
emphasis
mine)
Look over
your manuscript and replace boring, tired words with words that have zing and
pizzazz and melody and texture.
“Writing
is the painting of the voice.”
Voltaire
