Fran’s School of Hard Knocks

January 20, 2020

To collate our memories

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To collate our memories

In writing memoir, since the point is to collate our memories and experiences, we do not need to do exhaustive research.

Of course, if someone does offer useful feedback, use it, so long as that information is about practical, everyday details that will make our narrative more interesting or credible. Thus, household details and timelines wil be useful; on the other hand, no matter how often Great Aunt Augusta reassures you that, “Yes, of course you can mention that I was born in an orphanage dear, no-one cares about that sort of thing nowadays…!” resist the urge to wander into the thickets of another person’s past. The past is murky, at best, Aunt Agatha may later have qualms, and without being privy to her social and emotional context, we are most unlikely to do Aunt Agatha justice.

If we are clear that we are writing about our own experiences as we remember them, this also, and quite naturally, preserves our best defence: that we are allowed to express ourselves and, in so doing, to record our impressions of our own experiences. And while the best version of these will be what we can clearly remember at that time, even our erroneous interpretations of the past, taken as a snapshot in the present day, are allowable and can be excused.

I have said that during “Stage One” writing we may borrow and abuse as much information as we like. In the privacy of our rooms we can indeed use the “delve and expose” methodology for our own catharsis; and laying bare what lies in the deepest recesses of our hearts may be necessary for our own sanity. In this situation, no-one will ever know, and no-one can challenge, what we first write. So long as we later have the courage to excise and refine ruthlessly.

Since it very challenging to be objective about events and circumstances that have caused us the most emotional pain, I prefer to stick to the “no borrowing” rule as much as possible from the outset. If we find that to be too difficult, I suggest having a separate document marked “Private and confidential” in which we record painful details before we even attempt a version that might be for publication.

Thanks for listening.

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January 6, 2020

Happy New Year 2020

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Happy New Year 2020

Despite the current rash of sad news which seems to wrap itself around us like barbed wire – turmoil in the Middle East, Brexit uncertainty, the seeming melt-down of large areas of the planet – I am more determined than ever to stay patient, resolute, and as cheerful as possible in 2020.

What good does it do me to increase my unhappiness by worrying?

When I worry, it’s something else I have to get my head around before I can do anything that will help me to feel more purposeful and less worried. And there is a lot I, and we, can do! Ten minutes of daily exercise, two minutes a day tidying our local outdoors, ten seconds smiling at someone we meet on a walk, the intention of shopping more purposefully with local producers and farmers, donating our time to good causes or the local political scene, turning up at our local community hall or library to check out the latest books and events… Even remembering to take a couple of plastic bags – one for litter, one for our shopping – as we head out of the door each day.

What a difference it makes, when we do something that makes a difference! Gardening, listening, putting out bird-feeders. Doing something beneficial each day has the added advantage of reminding us of our good fortune: helping others helps us to feel good about our place in the world, and the good we contribute to it, in small steps, one thing at a time.

My resolution this year is to remain patient, to apply myself in whatever way I can to the tasks that need doing, and to have faith that all my small steps make a difference.

I wish you and yours a peaceful, prosperous year.

Thanks for listening.

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December 23, 2019

It can be hard to know

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It can be hard to know

It can be hard to know what episodes of a life to include, and which to omit.

If I saw something which for me was hugely informative – perhaps I saw my mother crying or my father shouting – do I mention that? Or is it part of the “foreign country” past of others that is best left alone?

In general, I would include mention of any or all particularly telling episodes in early drafts as often as I like until I had come to a clearer and more compassionate understanding of the dynamics of, for example, my parents’ relationship and could see it from a more rounded perspective. In writing, I would continue to refine my understanding of any events until I could feel, for example, the reasons for my parents’ frustrations and could glimpse more of the reasons why they found life difficult.

Certainly, their relationship has been formative in my other relationships, and of course I may say so. But any direct attribution of hardship, say, should be avoided. Compare,

~ “Aware of the tense atmosphere between my parents, I became withdrawn and unhappy”.

This may be true, but a statement of this order is likely to cause bad feeling, since we appear to attribute all or most of our unhappiness to the tension in our parents’ relationship: the old, “It’s all your fault” trap. Much better, and far more interesting, to hint at a challenging atmosphere and show all the other things with which we were directly involved that certainly would have made life difficult.  

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~ “Becoming aware of how volatile my parents’ marriage later was, I try to make my own marriage as harmonious as possible, though it’s amazing how often I still fail in this.”

I may know my parents’ relationship had its challenges, and my parents may even have confided in me about that, but that confidence deserves to be respected.

I suspect that my advice would be, that if a person lays a hand on you, you may mention it; if we saw them lay a hand, or exchange cross words with another, perhaps a single, immediate reference to what we saw or felt will be enough. As with other forms of narrative, show, don’t tell, and resist the urge to mine for sympathy.

Thanks for listening.

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December 13, 2019

Writing from our own perspectives

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Writing from our own perspectives

When we first write, we do so mainly to recall our impressions, homing in on what we remember. When we start out writing from our own perspectives, our recollections may have a very “interesting” relationship with the facts. Our version of events may be exaggerated or false, especially if we are writing of our infancy or youth. It’s not that youngsters are wrong, but they see the world from a very different angle and are necessarily concerned with their place in the world, and therefore prone to exaggerating their importance to the scheme of things. As we grow up and grow taller, our vision usually widens, and we see that what we thought was true, cannot always have been.

But since in memoir we are writing from our memories, in many cases we are right to record our own very personal impressions, because they can certainly affect our future perspectives. There is nothing wrong in writing from our own perspective. And doing so gives memoirists one of their best defences.

So far, you may have gleaned that there are two main defences to anyone who may be offended by the tone and tenor of your memories:-

~ Authenticity – When we write in our own authentic style and are as true as we can be to our own purposes, though we can be criticised by some, we still have the right to our self-expression.

~ When we write as much from our own perspective as possible, who among even our most offended acquaintances can really take exception to that? I cannot really argue with another person’s experience of life; I can’t tell them they are “wrong” in laying out their perspectives honestly. I can reassure them that there were no snakes under the bed after lights out and the bells that woke us every morning were not a spaceship’s klaxons because these are unusual fantasies; but recounting most activities, who’s to argue with another person’s point of view?

Thanks for listening.

(To be continued.)

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December 2, 2019

Life would have been easier

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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.

Thanks for listening.

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November 21, 2019

Why do we write memoir?

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Why do we write memoir?

When people ask me why I wrote my memoir, I can offer many excellent reasons, though it’s never easy to summarise forty years of growing up in a pithy, two-sentence reply.

Though for each of us there will be a differing admixture and flavour, a different weight given to recurring themes, nevertheless the reasons people write memoirs are fairly universal.

We write memoir for many reasons.

~ To share interesting stories and leave a legacy of information for our family.

~ As a way of speaking to others intimately when the thought of conversation is simply too confusing or daunting. I can’t be the only writer who has found it easier to write letters to a boyfriend instead of actually talking to him.

~ To reconcile ourselves to the course of our lives. Coming to terms with our failures and learning to accept ourselves as we are is a major reason why people write. We can, and often do, bury ourselves in fiction as a way of hiding from life, though I’m quite certain that writing short stories, flash fiction and novels also teaches us acceptance.

~ To apologise to others and to ourselves. In the course of writing anything, we do see things more clearly and also from other peoples’ points of view. Even in our fiction, our characters teach us humility and insight.

~ Because we have stuff we need to learn – like empathy and patience – before we can move on.

~ To free us to move forward and make better lives for ourselves. Any writing, be it a diary, a journal, a short story or letters and emails, offers opportunities to lay our ghosts and leave behind a legacy of peace that helps us to go forward.

Thanks so much for listening.

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November 14, 2019

To leave this writing jaunt behind

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To leave this writing jaunt behind

One morning recently, before I rose for the day, I said aloud, “I really want to leave this writing jaunt behind now. It’s been twelve hard years and I’ve had enough….”

Sincerely putting the matter out in the open and wondering what would happen, I waited, explaining, “It’s been good, but I’ve had to work so hard, and I don’t think I can weather any more disappointments. I feel beleaguered.”

And I swear that at the back, someone was smiling as they answered me, “You want to give up the one thing – the one thing, mark you! – that belongs to you entirely and that still offers you hope and something interesting and valuable to think about? We totally get how fed up you are and tired and all that. But it’s not the writing that’s making you tired, it’s everything else you do on a normal day. It is the daily routines and the shopping and the thinking about meals and superglue and recycling that has you exhausted, not your writing.”

“Not for nothing did we ensure you would loathe housework,” the advice continued, “We knew that if you could find any more enjoyment in it than you do, you would cheerfully give up this writing lark and spend the rest of your days cooking, wiping and cleaning. Which is not what we want for you. We want you to be happy.”

I could not help smiling with relief when I then remembered a time before all the daily tasks became oppressive when I truly did enjoy writing and find it engrossing. So why would I give that up?

The obvious answer, is instead, to give less energy and thought to the other daily tasks I bend my mind to, and simply write when I feel like it. For now, that will have to be enough. But I’m glad I’ve finally decided I won’t be leaving it behind.

Thanks for listening. 

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November 11, 2019

When I Let Go

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When I let go

When I let go of all the needs, wants, plans and expectations, one thing remains still to be acknowledged and resolved. In all this “working for myself” gig, there has been – there is – one obsession that pushes at me, and that at the same time almost guarantees that I shall either feel unhappy or as if I have failed.

It is the feeling – the belief – that there is something that I should or could be doing that I am not doing. Some path that I have not walked, some obvious answer I have not found, some way forward that I have overlooked. Only glimpsed until now, this is the belief that makes me anxious or fretful: that I have been given a job to do in which I am failing.

I can notice where this fear comes from – perfectionism, the fear of not being good enough, and also of trying to keep up with others. To give an example, “they” might go to a book fair for three days of networking and mutual back slapping as they meet, walk and talk up and down the escalators. I assume I want to do that too, not for the anxious busyness or the caffeine drive, but for the sense of belonging. That old feeling of yearning transmutes into a feeling that, if I really wanted something enough, I could work for it. So, if I don’t get what I dream for, that’s because I’m slow, lazy, not good enough…

And then I remember that Life – which has brought me this far and which continues to care for me – will, in its way, bring me naturally to what comes next. I can – ok, I must – stop running to catch up. I can invite what comes next by being first peaceful, and then by choosing a path – any path – and walking it.

Finally, I remember that it matters little which path I choose. Like the plastic duck that never drowns and that travels thousands of miles without trying, life still has a way of righting itself, as long as I can stay optimistic and happy.

Thanks for listening.

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November 7, 2019

Letting dreams go

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Letting dreams go

For years now – well over a decade – I’ve had a dream of how I thought my dreams would turn out. Too personal to articulate clearly, I’ve seen in these dreams my varying paths to “success”, “happiness” and all the other achievements we want for ourselves. Who among us does not see that in our dreams?

But instead of a light, colourful anticipation, my wishes have hardened into something akin to an obsession. Instead of loving these dreams into existence, a compulsion has me in thrall. And meantime, my time has passed me by too quickly. Not without results, outcomes, ideas and considerable progress; though never quite what I have hoped for.

Immersed in the dream, I have missed so much colour, action, love; all the things I thought the dreams might bring me. Instead of which, its grip has kept much of what I sought – intimacy, adventure and joy – at bay.

So I’m letting dreams go: releasing them from the cage of my expectations. I know that if the hope is to return to me, it will do so in its own way and its own time. I cannot force the future to be what I want it to be, nor what I expect. I can only keep faith and hope for the best.

We all keep our dreams alive, but not by caging them. They will come back to us if they are meant to. Otherwise, the best we can do for them and for ourselves is to release and get on with loving ourselves better.

Thanks for listening.

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November 4, 2019

Living more actively

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Living more actively

Did you ever feel like the class buffoon, because you said the things or asked the questions that everyone else was thinking? I did, and ended up feeling singled out, not always because of my obvious impairments. Kids are surprisingly perceptive, and often saw me as I was, rather than how I thought I looked.

I did, and do, have unusual priorities, many of which are still being shaped today by “older” expectations: to be good, be no bother, be easy to get along with, be amenable. These expectations are remarkably pacific and keep me sitting. In with the mix, there have also grown newer expectations shaped by being a wife – be thoughtful, think before you speak, don’t judge – and a mother – be kind, listen first, then speak, hold back on that ol’ judgement, because often you forget that younger folk see things more charitably than you do.

But mixed in with those expectations which I could label as “being careful” a whole new bunch has become clearer to me since lately becoming obsessed with “Supernanny” and picking up some of Jo’s parenting tips. Nothing I could point the finger at, particularly, just a feeling that life is too valuable and precious to sit around here all day “being good” and thus failing to live my life to the full and enjoy it as much as I can. There may be limits on what I can do, but many of these can be overcome, and are imposed on me by my own sense of inadequacy.

I have Jo to thank for demonstrating that I can, and should, get out more, see more and do more. It seems to me today, that the best advice I can give myself now is to get out there and experiment with living more actively. It’s no good expecting the world to turn up at my doorstep. I have to take my world outside, where people can meet it.

Thanks for listening.

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