Life would have been easier…
Life would have been easier, certainly, if I had ever positively, finally, decided to give up all my ideas of writing “Trapped”, or indeed, of ever writing anything properly. I never did positively decide not to. The idea just kept creeping up on me until it was irresistible, so I guess memoir writers just have to get used to living dangerously…
And I can’t say that, though life would have been easier, it would have been more fun. I would have had plenty more time to worry whether I was doing the best I could, whether I should be writing and whether I was missing opportunities. I would probably have wilted away to almost nothing. But hey, what’s that, compared to the damage we could do, making the effort to write and perhaps, in the process, offending someone else’s notion of propriety?
Memoir is defined as the story of our memories, written in what the industry categorises as “narrative non-fiction” style; that is, like a novel, but with elements of truth in it. The difference with autobiography and biography is instructive. Biography utilises verifiable names, dates, timelines and events, whereas a memoirist concerns herself with the recall of her memories, which may have little or no bearing on what actually happened: a crucial distinction which in itself reveals both the dangers of writing memoir, and the defences we can deploy in the interests of harmony and to shield ourselves from adverse comments.
It is possible, indeed probable, that on occasion, and perhaps when we least expect it, we will have to contend with unreasonable people. It’s never those whom we assume are bound to be most offended, who are. And when writing anything that we hope will one day see publication, we must accept the risk that there will be those who will be unhappy both with what we have written, and with the fact that we have bothered – or dared – to publish it.
I’ve never let another person’s lack of reason or self-discipline stop me from expressing myself; and, sensible caution aside, I contend that anyone who lets worries such as these stop them writing, is putting the cart before the horse. Publication – probably the point at which most people will read our work for the first time – as a goal can take anything from two to ten years. Writing – which only we need ever read – we can start immediately.
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December 5, 2019
Stage One Writing
Fran Macilvey 'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', Fran Macilvey, Memoir, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 0 Comments
Stage One writing
There are many things to consider when writing memoir. And there are things we can do, to make the disclosures we – eventually – publish, easier to live with. But that comes only after we have gone through the initial processes of writing, editing, agonising and re-writing… All of which can take a year or three.
Make a start, because the process itself will, if we approach it in a positive spirit, throw more light on what to do next.
Any writing can be broken down into several stages. The first stage, which I suppose we may characterise very approximately as “splurge”, is not intended to be read by anyone except its originator, the author. At its most useful, it is uncensored, emotive stuff thrown on the page at speed and without thought or plan. It is, in some ways, the purest form of original creation.
Stage One writing is only ever read by the author. And it seems to be particularly applicable to memoir. Therefore, in getting the first scratchings down on the page and out of our system we can be as crass, rude, unfair and unkind in what we write at that stage. Writing memoir is very often about laying our ghosts to rest. So forming something out of thoughts and long-held memories, it is a good idea to excavate hard with the feelings and let the words express themselves as they wish. Which means, we can write anything; which means in turn, that there is a tacit agreement that what we have written is not shown to anyone else.
If what we have produced on the page is “respectable” enough to be read by anyone else at this early stage in the proceedings, perhaps we have not really been honest at all. Or perhaps we really have had a wonderful life and want to share the joy. Cool.
Far too many authors are guided by the gremlin or the ghost that lives on their shoulder into thinking that they must, at all costs, and too early in the proceedings, be dignified and reasonable. Whereas, it is neither dignity nor reason that drives a person – perhaps almost insane with despair – to take that first step and start writing.
Thanks for listening.
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