The Truth About Memoir

I’ve always wondered what the hell I would have to say in a blog and today I realized it is a wonderful space for a foaming rant. Today, I am ranting about memoir and in particular the process of developing a memoir in a workshop setting.

The person who appears in your memoir is not you. They [sic] are one you out of many you/s. The you of your memoir is a persona constructed for the page using the materials of recollection, reflection, research, and invention.

A reader of a memoir has accepted the author’s invitation to suspend disbelief and to honor the presentation of a life, which by its very nature, is a subjective truth. The writer of the memoir, having extended the invitation to such intimacy also has obligations to the reader. And make no mistake, to enter a memoir as a writer or reader is to be in a relationship. The writer must realize that it is not enough for an incident to be true; it must be believable.

Unbelievable events occur in every life. And yet, if they are not supported by the narrative, a reader feels cheated and loses some faith in the credibility of the author’s voice.  At a minimum, the memoirist should acknowledge the reader’s belief may be strained by the depiction of what takes place in the story.

…It was hard to believe that Dwight, fourteen years old, with cerebral palsy, could win a fight with a man twice his age and three times his size. I never figured out how Dwight did it, but after that afternoon, Mr. Oxendine carried a small larva-shaped scar that split his left eyebrow neatly in half…

The more unlikely something is, the more scaffolding it needs to hold it up to the scrutiny of the audience.

In a writing group or workshop, it is the task of the memoirist’s colleagues to suggest places in the telling that could benefit from clarification or from the stated admission that what is true can also be improbable. Always, participants should note sections of a text that are especially skillful and effective. It is not for the reader to assert that the writer can’t possibly remember this or that thing. Memories are specific to each individual and the reader must take on faith that the writer remembers what she says she does. Likewise, a reader must not say, “Nobody could possibly forget a thing like that!” if the memoirist records a gap in recalling something. As with visual art, negative space (in this case, not remembering) can define as clearly as a positive image.

It is essential in a workshop to focus on writing as a made, artistic artifact----a created thing, and not to focus critique on the writer as a person open to judgment. The writer is not the work under discussion. Readers, in critique, keep in mind the author can feel exposed and vulnerable. He will be more receptive to suggestions that encourage. Remember, your story will also be critiqued.

That said, it can be difficult for readers to discern that the person on the page and the person who composed the page are substantially different people. It can also be difficult for the writer to make that distinction, because the personal nature of memoir sometimes makes the two dimensional character (say, Sandy) seem inseparable from the three dimensional author (also, Sandy). Everyone must understand that the character and the author are not interchangeable.

The you of your memoir, the portrait of you at that time, in that place is no more who you are this moment than the photo of you on your driver’s license. Your written portrait may be improved by adding more detail, definition, color, or background. Or your artistic writer self might be satisfied with the rendering as is. Either way, as the creator of memoir, the choice is ultimately and always, yours.