“Why do we write memoir?” This question is posed on many writing blogs, writer websites and to writing discussion groups. I am curious to know my fellow writers’ (of personal stories) responses. I read on. They write “. . . . to wring every possible lesson . . . to learn about my own past . . . I wrote [...]
I sit down to work on my memoir this afternoon as I do most afternoons. The editing, the rewriting, the tightening, the examination of prose, development and theme consume my focus. The stack of 220 pages is broken in sections. Select pages of my manuscript sit on my reader stand while I transfer my handwritten markings to my Word document. [...]
I patted the top of the 8 ½ X 11 box with affection to acknowledge its contents. The box was deep enough to cradle 220 pages of my memoir manuscript. But this wasn’t just a manuscript containing double-spaced typed lines. This was my story – edited, rewritten, honed to the best of my ability, ready for . . . another [...]
Oh, that word, "platform." When I hear or read it I inhale with tension and exhale in surrender. What's a memoir writer to do when she can't keep up with platform content and all its connection points? I'm beginning to find myself being distracted, if not, preoccupied to the point of losing sight on the writing itself. I listened to a [...]
Unlike seasons in Chicago, San Francisco’s went unrecognized. The change of seasons was subtle for me with only the calendar months marking their transitions. January in San Francisco can be a beautiful weather month for someone from Chicago. It’s chilly but nothing a few layers of clothing or a jacket can’t remedy. Locals would say, “Oh, the rains this time [...]
THE BIRCH TREES I’ll always remember the birches for as long as I live. It’s the silver bark of the birch, the lenticels, and the height they grow to whilst remaining slim . . . but they always remind me of home. James Roy Blair "My tree attraction wasn’t for just any tree. I noticed this one’s ashen white [...]
This day, 28 years ago, was one of the worst days of my then 25 year-old self. I wrote about it in my memoir-in-progress, Under the Birch Tree. The bus ride home from work at lunchtime north on Lake Shore drive was like something out of a Stephen King novel. I was having an out-of-body experience on that ominous gray [...]
As a writer of memoir, sometimes my mind hurts when recalling not only a particular memory, but also the details within that scene. The hurt part comes when noises within the silence of my thought-invoking process are heard. Sometimes the noise is distracting and not very helpful. Other times it allows me the opportunity to exercise my imagination and create [...]
A writing prompt from one of my writing groups was to write about a summer day. We were to write a scene, from 2 different POV's - a child and adult, from a childhood memory. I pulled a scene from my memoir (in progress) where I was having my picture taken on my first day of kindergarten. When I completed [...]
Taken from a 2000 word essay, this short is the beginning to the unfolding of my spirituality. I heard the call. It wasn’t a whisper or a delicate voice or loud words urging me to transcribe thoughts to paper. The call did sound like an alarm, telling me it was time to awaken a dormant spirit. I was ready to [...]