Everyday Editing

What to tell and what to hide is one of the most puzzling questions we all face when writing life stories and memoir. Although few may have realized this, this sort of decision isn’t limited to writing. We make them on a regular basis, perhaps daily, maybe hourly.

My epiphany on this matter came as I wrote a recent email. The email included statements such as “Ordinarily I would not have mentioned this, but …” and “knowing the other side of this story may help you understand … more clearly.”

Rereading that email, I realized that even when I’m not writing, I constantly edit what I say for some or all of these reasons:

To avoid coloring person A’s view of person B.  I realize that my perceptions and beliefs about any given individual reflect my experiences and values which may not pertain to others. Of course that’s most true of less favorable impressions. Favorable ones I share quite freely. When I was young, I often heard the aphorism, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

To help others avoid a pitfall or make sense of a puzzling situation. As an adult, I realize there are times when exposing the dark side of a situation or person may serve a valuable purpose in helping others avoid similar pain and pitfalls or to help them make sense of an otherwise baffling situation. But my personal code of ethics requires a compelling reason to do so.

To avoid embarrassing others. Children are taught (for better or worse) not to blurt out questions like “Why is that man all hunched over?” or observations like “Aunt Agatha sure is fat!” when that man or Aunt Agatha is within earshot. I could write an entire post about situations like this, but you get the drift.

To present myself in a favorable light. I admit it. I want to be liked and admired. I’m not eager to expose my many Achilles’ heels, though reluctance is crumbling with age and experience.

To express my thoughts in a way that makes sense to others. This requires a certain degree of awareness about the background and thought patterns of others and the ability to adapt to alternate points of view.

To keep others interested. How many times have you silently wished someone would get to the point? Excessive detail bogs down your story and causes glazed eyes and wandering attention in both readers and listeners.

Time limitations. I think at warp speed, about 16/7/365. There will never be enough time to report all my jumbled, overlapping, contradictory thoughts.

Filters and editing are an inherent part of effective communication in any mode. Most of us intuitively recognize the strategic importance of suiting both content and mode of expression to the purpose at hand as we go through our days. It’s no different with writing. Consider your reason for writing, what you hope to achieve, and the reaction you hope for from readers. Pair that with your best understanding of where they are coming from, and make you best call about what information will be most effective and helpful for them.

If you have brazen, inflammatory disclosures to make, you may feel safer doing so from behind the shield of print, but the issues involved in making that decision are almost identical to smaller ones you face each day.

Write and live honestly and boldly, with courage and compassion.

Write now: Think back over the last few days and identify situations where you chose to reveal or hide information. Use free writing to explore these decisions and the beliefs, attitudes and values that led you to make them. Then extend this reasoning to puzzling situations you face about disclosures in stories.

Where’s the Story?

Over a million people visit the Getty Center and Villa in Los Angeles each year. I’m one of them. I’ve been to the Center a couple of times and last week I visited the Villa. Like other visitors, I’m blown away by the splendor of both places. The architecture is magnificent and objects and art are displayed with great care and respect.
Nevertheless, I have the sense there, as in other museums, that something is missing. As I circled the last roomful of antiquities in the Villa, I had a sudden flash of insight into what that missing element might be. My friend and I had just confessed that the prolonged standing and ambling on hard floors has become increasingly difficult over the years. Our backs were screaming for a break.
“It’s all blurring together at this point,” she said. I concurred. I also realized that it had been blurring together all along for me.
“These objects were never intended to be viewed this way,” I blurted. “They lack context in here. They are as dead as the mummy in the other room.” I glanced at a display of household utensils and my eyes fell on objects that looked like small sauté pans with ridges in the bottom.
“I find it mildly interesting that the Roman glitteratti used things like this to wash their hands at meals, but still …” I paused briefly as a thought took form. “There’s no story here!” I blurted.
Her eyes widened in sudden recognition of this obvious fact.
“These objects were never intended to be viewed this way. They were made for a purpose, and when we look at them one after another, apart from their context, they barely hint at the dramas they were involved in. I want to know who dipped her fingers into that bowl. I want to know what she was doing at the banquet, what she ate, who she talked to about what, what she wore, how many outfits she had to select from … I want to know about the servant or slave who brought that bowl to the guest and what his or her life was like. I want to know about the life of the people represented by those statues, and what others thought of the statues,” I added, pointing to the room we’d just left. 
Some of these objects fire up my imagination with hints of story, but it’s all based on modern accounts by historians making guesses little more educated than mine. Other objects hint at creative stories of design and implementation. I fill in a few blanks with imaging's of my own, but they raise more questions than they answer.
Perhaps we’re becoming jaded, my friend and I concurred. Perhaps we’ve lived too long in an era of full disclosure and developed an over-reliance on realistic depictions in any media.
As I left, I realized yet again that my mind had been craving story to add relevance to what I saw, to compare it to what I know and store it away. When the “real” story isn’t available, I speculate and fill in the blanks with fabricated context and story – or I move on and ignore the object.
I also realized that there’s nothing inherently wrong with this. Those objects did stimulate my imagination. I could weave some of those details into stories of my own making. But that’s not nearly as satisfying as knowing the “real” story, and that’s what I insist on in reading material. If a story has large holes, if it’s obviously leaving out key details and context, I’m unlikely to finish reading – unless the story is about a relative and I know enough context to fill in the blanks. That won’t be the case if too much time has passed.
Write now: pluck a couple of memory fragments of objects from your mental storeroom. Find pictures of them if you can, otherwise describe them clearly. Then do some freewriting about the stories those objects fit into. Tell how they were used, what purpose they served. Then go beyond that and work one into a scene showing them in use. Include your thoughts about them, even if you only mindlessly picked them up. These details will breathe life into your stories and help later generations understand life as we lived it. You’ll be creating a living museum of dead objects.

Memoir Writing on Steroids

 It’s the memoir writing process on steroids! I thought. These scholars are creating a memoir of civilization in the Andes. …

For over a dozen years I've dreamed of visiting Machu Picchu, and I would have been quite content to go directly there and come straight home. That dream has come true on a much larger scale, and the ton of bonus insights I derived in the process have caused my understanding of Story to explode like a super nova.

Some people spend weeks or months boning up on a location before going there. Not me. I hit a place cold, get an overview from guides and local resources, then fill in the blanks later. In this case, I was ahead of the game. I'd watched a few documentaries and done a little reading about the Incas, but I was totally unprepared for the fire hose gush of compelling pre-Inca history that our guides saturated us with for over two weeks.

Over the last decade or so, teams of archeologists, anthropologists, ethnologists, linguists and others have made remarkable progress in piecing together fragments of information from multiple sources to give an expanded picture of life in various times and regions. For example, they have now discovered that although the Incas and others did not use writing as we know it, they did have a system of recording detailed historical information. They embedded stories in weaving and painted them on pottery. They recorded words and stories in knotted strings along with complex accounting records.

Before this trip, I had no idea that the Incas were merely the capstone on a vast pyramid of previous Andes civilizations and empires. Through a combination of enticement and coercion, the Incas united the Quechua, Aymara, Moche and assorted other people in the Andean region into a single, loosely knit empire. They were astute enough to take the best each culture had to offer, assimilating and building upon the accumulated skills and wisdom of those people.

As I listened to accounts of how old assumptions are being reinterpreted to incorporate new knowledge, I got goosebumps. I realized that in a very real sense, historians are now creating what amounts to a mega-memoir of Andean civilization. What they are doing is remarkably similar to what we as individuals go through in compiling memoirs. We also sort and compile memory fragments into cohesive stories of times, events and experiences. 

One thing that especially struck me as I pondered this epiphany was the fact that these experts didn’t just keep digging for more artifacts. They have continually pondered the significance of what they already had and developed new tools for analyzing it. They have not shied away from the occasional need to challenge assumptions and edit the big picture as the need arose. 

A major key to recent progress has been the growing levels of collaboration among researchers in a wide variety of disciplines. Each brings a unique perspective has resulted in much deeper, multidimensional understanding.

There’s a major lesson for memoir writers in the Andean discoveries: we can also benefit from reassessing what we already know, perhaps with the help of a team of others to provide new perspectives. We can also use tools like old photos (not just family ones – check the web for photos of places and things from various decades in your past), old phone books and other historical documents, music, and conversations with relatives and past acquaintances. 

Perhaps the most important cue these researchers give us as we explore explore new perspectives is to question assumptions and perceptions. Look for the roots of current attitudes and beliefs and follow them to new conclusions. Follow the researchers’ example and put your memoir writing on steroids. 

Write now: spend time on research to deepen your memories of the past and write about them. You don’t have to write an entire memoir. Vignettes and essays are enough to answer questions in years to come. Leave a comment about resources you find especially helpful.

Milestone Memories

Milestones are key components of lifestories and memoir. The events they signify are the moments we feel our life shift or turn a corner. Our perspective changes, if only slightly, and the moments stick in memory, perhaps sweet as cotton candy residue or irritating as cockleburs.

Last night was a cotton candy milestone for me: along with my husband and our older son’s family, I attended our oldest grandchild’s high school graduation in Lake Oswego, Oregon. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and watched through teary eyes as Keith strode to the podium, laden down with honors cords, to address his classmates and an audience of about fifteen hundred. He did so with superb aplomb. I cheered loudest of all at the end.

Over the course of the three interminable hours I spent squirming and wiggling on that rock-hard gymnasium bleacher, I recalled Keith’s birth, the arrival of other grandchildren, each graduation we’ve attended, and a long list of other milestone moments.

I’ve been thinking about milestone's a lot recently. Late May through early July is a major milestone season for my family and me. I graduated from high school on May 28. and began my first job on June 5, which was also the day I first met the man I married a year later. The last weekend in June I will attend my LAHS ‘62 50th reunion. I find the symmetry of Keith’s graduation in juxtaposition with my impending reunion compelling.

Milestone moments deserve to be celebrated and commemorated. Many call for celebration in person with others. All are compelling story topics on their own merits. I wrote a blog post for One Woman’s Day about June 5, a Double Milestone Day.

Writing about these experiences pays multiple dividends:

Personal satisfaction. Writing about happy or rewarding milestones allows you to re-experience the joy and pleasure and excitement you felt at the moment and share the energy of the experience with others.

Broadening perspective.  Focusing on individual senses, perhaps on the often-overlooked sense of smell, may reactivate subliminal memories and uncover meaningful connections to other memories. Most especially, you may find additional ways to view and interpret the situation.

Healing painful memories. Looking at painful situations from other perspectives is a primary key way to removing their sting, and as mentioned above, reflecting and writing about key memories often triggers new views and perspectives.

Clarifying your message. You may recall Mark Twain’s advice in my previous post. He urged you to begin writing afresh after completing a story to your satisfaction. Fully developing a single story as a polished vignette is terrific preparation for incorporating that memory into a more comprehensive memoir.

Creating a legacy of story. Very early in The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, I emphasize that any story you write, however crude and unpolished, is better than writing nothing. I explain that my mother left behind comprehensive drafts of her lifestory. Time ran out for her, and she was unable to integrate multiple drafts and individual accounts into a finished memoir, but the details are there and her story is complete up to the point where she met my father. Her descendants and their flock of cousins will have a wider window into the past as a result.

Write your stories now, before your time runs out, and give yourself the opportunity to savor them afresh as you share them with posterity.

 Write now: if you don’t already have one in mind, make a list of milestone memories from your past. Pick one and write a complete story about it. Include lots of sensory detail along with personal reflection about the meaning the moment had for you.

Mark Twain’s Advice to Memoir Writers

While strolling through the Twain on Main Festival in  Hannibal Missouri a couple of weeks ago, I ran into Mr. Twain himself. My writing hero graciously offered to pose for a picture, as you can see.

My husband let the cat out of the bag when he told Mark, “She’s a writer too.”

“What do you write?” he asked. “ Mysteries? Fiction?” 

When I told him I write lifestories and memoir, he confessed that he’s written a bit of that himself. “Do you have any advice for lifestory and memoir writers?” I asked this legendary icon.

“Never let the facts get in the way of a good story,” he said without missing a beat. “You see, I like a good story well told. That is why I am sometimes forced to tell them myself.”

“Telling stories is a great skill,” I agreed, “and you’re the best. May I ask you a question about writing?” He nodded. “What advice so you have about editing stories?

“Do it!” he said. “We write frankly and fearlessly but then we ‘modify’ before we print.” He paused and went on. “You need not expect to get your book right the first time. Go to work and revamp or rewrite it.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. Anything else?” I asked.

“Yes. The time to begin writing a story is when you have finished it to your satisfaction. By that time you begin to clearly and logically perceive what it is that you really want to say.”

“That’s a challenge I’m going to keep in mind for sure,” I told him. “And what about one of my favorite topics, writing description?”

He smiled mischievously. “God only exhibits his thunder and lightning at intervals, and so they always command attention. These are God's adjectives. You thunder and lightning too much; the reader ceases to get under the bed, by and by.”

“Mmm, nice!”  I waited expectantly and was not disappointed as he continued.

“When you catch an adjective, kill it.” He saw my eyebrows raise. “No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them – then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice.

“You and Steven King would get along well. He tells people to kill adverbs.”

“Steven King? Never heard of him, but he gives good advice.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out his watch and none too subtly glanced at the time. “Sorry my dear, I must excuse myself. If you are genuinely interested in my thoughts on the subject of writing, I hear people have been keeping track of remarks I’ve made various times and places. You can use some new-fangled thing Google thing to track them down.”

“Great idea Mr. Twain. I’ll do that right away, and thank you for your time and advice.”

Write now: select a story you’ve already finished to your satisfaction. Follow Mark Twain’s advice and write that story again, based on what you clearly and logically perceive that you really want to say. Kill as many adjectives (and adverbs) as you can in the process.