Struggling with your memoir?
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Struggling with your memoir?
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Anytime something that happens in your book, your reader wants to live through that event in the form of a scene. But what if you don’t remember? Your first instinct might be to just leave it out? Here’s why leaving it out might not always be the best option. Take this example. Let’s pretend you wrote this in your story:
That was the day Hakim and I broke up. Two days later, I was feeling better. And a week later, I went for an interview at a new job. *** Wait, you and Hakim broke up? Even if you don’t recall exactly what happened, writing it this way makes your reader feel left out because it was mentioned in passing. It also feels like your story is moving too quickly. Anytime something happens in your book, you need to include a scene. Your scenes allow a reader to be transported, allowing them to become part of the story and forget they're reading a book. But back to the question—what if you don’t remember? The solution is simple, but most people miss out on this because they’re thinking of their scenes in the wrong way. They feel the need to include everything that happened. You don’t need to do this. Instead, the way to “remember” is to cut straight to the main event that gives your scene a reason to exist in the first place. Going back to the example about being broken up with, let’s say it took place at a party. You don’t need to include that you drank too much, ate the worst pizza of your life, overheard two women talking about you, or ran into an old friend from high school. Here’s how to rewrite this and cut straight to the main event. It was at Jessica's party that Hakim decided to break up with me. One minute I was sipping on a margarita. The next I was staring at Hakim dumbfounded, trying to take in what he had just said. I repeated his words back to him, “You're moving to Mauritania? And you don't want a long-distance relationship?” Apparently, along with his new job, he was starting a new life, one that would not include me. *** This wasn’t a long scene. It only took six sentences to have you live through the moment with the narrator. Here’s one more example. My mother came to visit and we got into a huge fight over Soren’s education. Later that week, she called and we reconciled. *** Again, this example isn’t letting the reader live through the story with the narrator. If you don’t recall the details of this moment, go to the main event and create the scene: I had hoped for a peaceful visit with my mother. However, it only took two hours for us to begin fighting. I made the mistake of bragging about Jenna's straight A's which gave my mother the chance to bring up Soren’s education. We hadn't thought much about nursery school. Jim was busy with his new job and I'd been working on a new oil painting of a baby kangaroo trapped in its pouch, which some might have seen as a metaphor for a daughter's relationship with her mother. But my mom was adamant that we start on the application for Norton Preschool as soon as possible before the enrollment period closed. All of her friends had kids who had been there and apparently those kids were now grown up somebodies. From her point of view, it was either Norton Preschool's guaranteed future or life on the streets fishing dinner out of grocery store dumpsters. *** Notice there is no dialogue or description of the furniture in the living room and what anyone is wearing. Instead, there’s plenty of subjective writing, which puts the reader in the narrator’s head and makes the scene more interesting and relevant. To recap, remember these three rules: 1. Anytime you mention an event in your book, include a scene. 2. Scenes are where readers are transported and live through an event with the narrator. 3. Scenes don't have to be long. Sometimes it's better to jump right to the event instead of having a long setup that recounts every little detail. I hope this makes your good writing even better. Happy scene writing!
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Are you using flashbacks in the wrong way in your book? I see so many writers try to incorporate flashbacks the same way they are used in the movies—as a person remembering a time from their past. However, flashbacks in memoir don’t work this way. Flashbacks are not memories. A flashback is a story from your past that is relevant to the main storyline. In other words, your narrator is not remembering this time. Instead, you are jumping to a previous time period briefly because you have an anecdote from the past that is relevant to the scene you were already in. The most important thing to remember about flashbacks is that they exist to make a point. The flashback makes the same point that you are making in the scene in your main storyline. If you don’t make this point, it will get your structure off track and your reader will wonder why you’re including the flashback in the first place.
Here are two things you need to get into a flashback: 1. Something has to happen in your main storyline. 2. Make a point that is relevant to the flashback and related to what just happened. Does that sound confusing? It won't by the time I'm finished giving you the examples. Here is an example from “Somebody's Daughter,” by Ashley C. Ford. "I rested my forehead against the bus window, careful to avoid the red bar warning that this was an emergency exit. One time on a bus ride before this one, my grandmother told me that if I fell asleep against the bar, I might slip out of the window and into the road before anyone would notice I was gone." **** Let's look at how she gets into the flashback using the two rules I outlined above. This is what happens in her main storyline before she gets into the flashback. “I rested my forehead against the bus window, careful to avoid the red bar warning that this was an emergency exit.” This is the point that relates what just happened to the main storyline: “One time on a bus ride before this one my grandmother told me that if I fell asleep against the bar, I might slip out of the window and into the road before anyone would notice I was gone.” Here is the rest of the flashback: "As she said it, I could see it—my small sleeping body tumbling from the side of the bus falling into traffic, smashed into the road, and all the bus patrons, driver included, continuing toward the Hoosier State, with no sense that a little girl who had just been real and alive beside them, was now dead and gone behind them. I taught myself to sleep lightly, to feel the difference between the window and the bar on my face. As I tried to sleep, now the light vibration of driving down the highway soothing me, I dream of the tea set I'd left behind, and the farm where I could be anything and anywhere I wanted with a little imagination." *** This is another sample from “Where You End And I Begin,” by Leah McLaren. As you read it, think about something happening in your main storyline and then make a point to get us into the flashback. Let me set up the scene just a little bit for you. Leah’s hamster Adrian was just found by her dog in the snow. The sample starts with her mother speaking. “Oh, Leah, I don't think he's going to make it. The best thing to do would be to put him out of his misery.” This is what happens in the main storyline—her mother suggests putting the hamster out of its misery. “What? No!” “Maybe you should call your father.” I'd once watched my dad place an injured sparrow behind the tire of a Celica in reverse. He was gentle with animals, but he'd worked weekends at a funeral home in high school and wasn't squeamish about death. He said it was cruel to let an animal suffer. Adrian was suffering. I could see that. “There must be something we can do.” My mind raced. The highlighted text is the point that the author makes to get us into the flashback because it’s related to what is happening in her main storyline. *** Here is the final example from “Wild,” by Cheryl Strayed. While reading it, see if you can pick out how Strayed gets into the flashback with a point, and what the event is. The doctor shook his head and sadly pressed on. He had a job to do. They could try to ease the pain in her back with radiation he offered. Radiation might reduce the size of the tumors that were growing along the entire length of her spine. I did not cry. I only breathed. Horribly. Intentionally. And then forgot to breathe. I fainted once—furious, age three holding my breath because he didn't want to get out of the bathtub, too young to remember it myself. What did you do? What did you do? I'd asked my mother all through my childhood, making her tell me the story again and again, amazed and delighted by my own impetuous will. She’d held out her hands and watched me turn blue, my mother had always told me. She waited me out until my hands fell into her palms and I took a breath and came back to life. Breathe. “Can I ride my horse?” my mother asked the real doctor. She sat with her hands folded tightly together and her ankles hooked one to the other. *** What happens in the main storyline? I did not cry. I only breathed. Horribly. Intentionally. And then forgot to breathe. What is the point that got us into the flashback? “I fainted once—furious, age three holding my breath because he didn't want to get out of the bathtub.” Strayed’s point is related to that event that is going to set up the flashback. This is what gives her flashback a reason to exist. Here’s a quick tip—make a point at the very beginning of your flashback. Doing it this way will make the flashbacks relevant in your readers’ mind, and they won't ask, “Why is the author telling me this?” Wishing you successful flashback writing! And remember this: Flashbacks are not what your narrator remembers. |
AuthorA Random House author offers tips on writing your own memoir. Archives
May 2024
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Memoir Writing for Geniuses.
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