Research & Memoir Writing

October is going to be a busy month for the blogmaster and other regular contributors as we prepare for the 2016 Steel Pen Creative Writers’ Conference on November 12. So we will take advantage of the blog archives and reprint several previous posts about writing memoirs and preserving family memories.

We start with the May 1, 2013 post by Sandra J. Nantais titled “Research & Memoir Writing.”

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A common misconception about writing a memoir or life essay is that the writer must write expressly from memory.  If that were so, that would make for a fairly flat and boring snippet of life tale.

Example 1: Summer!  Yea! It’s summer!  It’s the late 60s and summer means shorter pants, bare feet, Kool-Aid and the dunes!  The weekend arrives, sandwiches are made, Kool-Aid is in the metal jug and, with towels over our shoulders, we run out the door to the silver car.   

Upon opening the car’s back door, we all turn and run to the porch yelling Eeeeeuuuuu!

Example 2:  Summer!  Yea! It’s summer in the late 1960s and this means plaid knee-knockers, bare feet, sandwiches and the dunes!  It means waking to the sun shining and Mom packing sandwiches into a brown paper grocery bag (peanut butter or bologna on Wonder Bread of course).  The cherry Kool-Aid was already in the red and white metal picnic jug waiting for two trays of ice to be dumped in before having the lid screwed on.

Us kids would bound out of the house with a towel over our shoulder towards the shiny silver 1966 Dodge Coronet 440.  Whoever was quickest would open the back door, only to release the strong smell of spoiled milk.  Eeeeeuuuuu!! We’d yell and run back to the house and gather on the steps pinching our noses closed.

By adding a few vivid and specific details from that era, the reader is there along with the writer, in that moment.

Other then the memory of the car being silver with four doors and a black interior, I have no idea of the make or model.  My eldest brother is twelve years older and a lifelong car buff, so I asked him about the silver car, which is how we all still refer to it.

Why not just write it that way?  Just describing the car as ‘the silver car’?  Because by adding the make, year and model of the car, I can create more emotion or familiarity within a reader.

The same is true with the drink cooler.

I vividly remember the drink cooler and that it was metal.  Yet, I still researched vintage 1960 water coolers to keep with the time frame introduced.  If by the 1960’s the metal were replaced with plastic I would have left that detail out.

Is this wrong?  Does it make the memoir fiction?  Does it change a memoir from being my memory?  Not at all.   It is just facts about objects that were present.

With memoir writing the author is endeavoring to restore a memory as truthfully as possible.  Memories are deficient, and checking minor facts for accuracy shows that the author cares.  Verifying with someone what color something actually was or which beach you were at doesn’t change what you felt.

So go ahead and ask a sibling or research details.  It will only help immerse the reader into the moment right alongside of you as if they had experienced the same sadness or joy or laughter with you.

Dueling Memories

by

Kathryn Page Camp

 

www.kathrynpagecamp.com

 

One of the first things I learned in law school is that if ten people witness a crime, they will have ten different versions of what happened. Everyday life works that way, too.

Memoirs tell what happened to the writer through the writer’s eyes. But memoirs are not fiction, so they must also tell the truth about the actual events. How do you balance and reconcile these two concerns?

Take an example from my life.

My family lived in Jordan when I was six. We didn’t own a car, but we hitchhiked and took buses all over the Holy Land. It was mountainous country with narrow shoulders and no guard rails along the roads. So whenever the bus or car I was riding in went up a mountain, I closed my eyes and asked, “Are we on the falling off side?” If the answer was “no”—meaning we were on the side of the road near the mountain, I would open my eyes and look around with interest. If the answer was “yes,” they stayed tightly shut.

My entire family agrees on that much of the story.

On the day before Christmas, we were on a bus headed up a mountain on the way to Bethlehem. It was raining, and the roads were slippery, but we weren’t on the falling off side so I wasn’t worried. Then, without warning, the bus slid across the road. Again, we agree on that much. But from there, our memories differ.

I swear that one wheel slid off the mountain and left the bus hanging over the side. That’s what my terrified six-year-old mind saw as we scrambled out and huddled in the rain. My mother had a different memory—she said the bus slid sideways until it blocked both lanes but it never left the road.

With help from the male passengers and other men from the cars that couldn’t get past, the driver got the bus back on the right side of the road, loaded the passengers who were brave enough to chance it, and continued on to Bethlehem. Make that the passengers who were brave enough to chance it and one terrified six-year-old who had to be bribed by her parents.

Mama and I have different memories about where the bus landed after sliding across the road. Mama was probably frightened, too, but she was older and more rational. And the fact that the men managed to get the bus back on the road with no special equipment and without sending it over the edge strengthens the argument that her memory is probably the correct one.

But my memory was my reality, and that’s part of the truth, too.

So how should I handle this incident if I were writing a memoir about my childhood in Jordan? It is among my strongest memories and one of the most dramatic things that happened while I was there, so I couldn’t leave it out. But should I tell the story as I remember it or as it really happened?

I would treat it the way I have treated it in this blog post. I would start by giving you my reality and then describe why the external facts were probably different than I remembered them.

In my case, the evidence indicates that Mama’s version is the correct one. But sometimes people have dueling memories and the fight ends in a draw. When I am sure that my version is correct, I go with it. But if there is any chance that the other person’s memories are more accurate, I will at least acknowledge them.

A memoir has to be true to the world as the writer saw it at the time. But it isn’t fiction, so it also has to be true to the actual events. Or as true as you can be when people have dueling memories. Sometimes that means qualifying your memories by adding someone else’s.

But your memories are your reality, and that carries its own truth.

__________

The photograph at the top of this post shows the road descending from Wadi al-Mujib in Jordan. My husband took the photo on a family trip in 1998.

__________

Kathryn Page Camp is a licensed attorney and full-time writer. Writers in Wonderland: Keeping Your Words Legal was a Kirkus’ Indie Books of the Month Selection for April 2014. The second edition of Kathryn’s first book, In God We Trust: How the Supreme Court’s First Amendment Decisions Affect Organized Religion, was released on September 30, 2015. You can learn more about Kathryn at www.kathrynpagecamp.com.



 

Yours, Mine, Ours: Is it a memoir?

by

Sandra J Nantais

 

Fuzzy details?  Fading colors? Forgotten dates?  All these concerns plague a memoir writer along, as does the bigger question: “Can I ask someone and still make it my own?”

Unless you have an incredible memory, you will have to do research or interviews to nudge recollections and sketch them out.  It is still your story.

I had wanted to write a slice of my childhood about a circus that set up around the block from us one year.  I had started thinking it was an imagined childhood fiction because I couldn’t find anyone who remembered it, nor could I find the photograph of me that I remembered my dad taking.  Thanks to social media, I finally discovered this was not a dream. 

Not only did I find truth in my memory, but I also discovered the name of the circus.   Using this tidbit of information doesn’t mean I have to give credit to the person who provided it, nor does it mean the memoir isn’t mine because someone else filled in the minor details.

Here’s another example. For years I had two memorial events stuck in the second grade years of my life.  I remember picking up my oldest brother from the airport when I was in the second grade and that I was a flower girl in my sister’s wedding.   But now as my oldest sister’s 60^th birthday looms, I realize there was no way she married when I was seven years old.  She was still in high school.

Verbally I could keep holding on to my story, but once ink hits the paper it becomes set and an eagle eye reader (or my own sister!) could catch this error.  I would lose credibility.

From mentioning a candy bar to a television show, you need to make sure they existed in the time frame you are using. 

Timelines also can be sketchy, but taking a few moments to get dates in a sensible chronological order will help with the flow of your memoir.

You can also use other resources to fact check.  Photographs, public records, letters, school year books, and the Internet all can assist with details and add accurate facts to you memoir.

Not every detail needs to be exact.  If you remember the local park having patchy grass and dented slides, but your brother remembers it being a lush green with shiny, slick slides, it’s okay to describe how you perceived it.

Remember, you will run into some difficulty remembering exactly what happened and possibly when.  Whether you ask a sibling about a detail you deem important or enlist records to secure correct dates, the memoir is still your story.



Research & Memoir Writing

by

Sandra J Nantais

A common misconception about writing a memoir or life essay is that the writer must write expressly from memory. If that were so, that would make for a fairly flat and boring snippet of life tale.

Example 1: Summer! Yea! It's summer! It's the late 60s and summer means shorter pants, bare feet, Kool-Aid and the dunes! The weekend arrives, sandwiches are made, Kool-Aid is in the metal jug and, with towels over our shoulders, we run out the door to the silver car.

Upon opening the car's back door, we all turn and run to the porch yelling Eeeeeuuuuu!

Example 2: Summer! Yea! It's summer in the late 1960s and this means plaid knee-knockers, bare feet, sandwiches and the dunes! It means waking to the sun shining and Mom packing sandwiches into a brown paper grocery bag (peanut butter or bologna on Wonder Bread, of course). The cherry Kool-Aid was already in the red and white metal picnic jug waiting for two trays of ice to be dumped in before having the lid screwed on.

Us kids would bound out of the house with a towel over our shoulder towards the shiny silver 1966 Dodge Coronet 440. Whoever was quickest would open the back door, only to release the strong smell of spoiled milk. Eeeeeuuuuu! We'd yell and run back to the house and gather on the steps pinching our noses closed.

By adding a few vivid and specific details from that era, the reader is there along with the writer, in that moment.

Other than the memory of the car being silver with four doors and a black interior, I have no idea of the make or model. My eldest brother is twelve years older and a lifelong car buff, so I asked him about the silver car, which is how we all still refer to it.

Why not just write it that way? Just describing the car as 'the silver car'? Because by adding the make, year and model of the car, I can create more emotion or familiarity within a reader.

The same is true with the drink cooler. I vividly remember the drink cooler and that it was metal. Yet I still researched vintage 1960 water coolers to keep with the time frame introduced. If by the 1960s the metal were replace with plastic I would have left that detail out.

Is this wrong? Does it make the memoir fiction? Does it change a memoir from being my memory? Not at all. It is just facts about objects that were present.

With memoir writing the author is endeavoring to restore a memory as truthfully as possible. Memories are deficient, and checking minor facts for accuracy shows that the author cares. Verifying with someone what color something actually was or which beach you were at doesn't change what you felt.

So go ahead and ask a sibling or research details. It will only help immerse the reader into the moment right alongside you as if they had experienced the same sadness or joy or laughter with you.