Collaboration: The Easiest Way to Write Your Lifestory

A few days ago I spent some quality time alone with my 11-year-old California granddaughter, a rare treat. We started looking at family photos, which led to stories and questions. Lots and lots of questions, the kind that belong on Story Idea Lists.

“What was life like during the 1900s?”

“That’s a big question, and lots of years. Life was much different in 1900 than in 1999. Which part are you interested in?”

“All of it.”

I began helping her break things down. I handed her the copy of The Albuquerque Years I’ve been keeping on a shelf for when she was old enough to read and appreciate it. That’s the mini-memoir I wrote of my preschool years, and it was the naïve, off-the-top-of-my-head project that lit my enduring passion for lifestory. You can download a copy from the Books tab above.

Next she began peppering me with questions such as “How did my mom and dad meet?” I wasn’t there, but I think they met in a lab.  You’ll have to ask him for more details. “How did you and Grandpa meet?” That one I could answer.

Now I realize that asking all my grandchildren, and also my children, to pose questions on a continuing basis can result in the most valuable, relevant, and interesting document possible. For now I’ll answer each question in the form of a letter or Flash Memoir (see Jane Hertenstein's Memoirous blog for more info about flash memoir). Most likely each one will result in more questions. But how hard can it be to answer questions? Uhm, some could get tricky. The questions are likely to get deeper over time and stray into territory I may find uncomfortable. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

Ruth Pennebaker is taking a similar approach in her Love, Coco XO blog. This blog is a series of letters that began when her granddaughter Ellie was born way up in Seattle two years ago. Ruth is sharing her insights and passions about life, love. feminism, politics, and whatever she thinks Ellie should know as she grows old enough to read and understand.

The main difference between Ruth’s blog and what I’m setting out to do is that Ellie is too young to pose questions, so Ruth writes about her current passions and inspirations. That can work well too. Ruth has a string of published books. Perhaps we’ll see Letters to Ellie one of these years. Right now Ruth is posting on  a blog. I’ll probably stick to short documents I can attach to emails.

This collaborative approach could be your main memoir thrust, or it could supplement projects you may have underway.

Have you written anything yet in response to family questions? Tell us about it!

Write Where the Juice Is

When I read this advice recently in Vanessa Talbot’s ebook, 101 Ways to Live Extraordinarily, I thought of one of my great-great-grandmothers. Family legend has it that she opened the first brothel in the Yukon. The topic certainly does give us plenty of food for talk.

Is it true? Did she? We don’t actually know. I’ve given it great thought. That she did go there early on with her new husband and son is established fact. Before she married that husband, she divorced the coal miner she married before emigrating from Scotland to Illinois in 1871. For twenty years this spunky woman had run boarding houses for single miners in order to provide food, clothing and shelter for her two children. Her first husband was an abusive bum who spent his money on whiskey.

So she knew how to provide lodging for others. Demand for room and board was high in the Klondike. It makes sense that she would ply the trade she knew to bring in immediate cash while her men were slogging around in the mud in search of the fortune they never found.

Another trade was in high demand up there. It’s established fact that swarms of women went there to engage in “the world’s oldest profession.” They needed a base of operations. What would make more sense than a pragmatic forty-something matron making mattresses available to this trade? Perhaps this experience was one of the factors leading to her conversion to the newly emerging Mormon faith a few years later when she settled in Seattle.

Again, do I know that her running a brothel is fact? No. Do I plan to check it out? Records from the Klondike could show that she did run at least a boarding house. But the lack of records would not prove that she didn’t. So, no. I do not plan to check it out. I cherish this legend and have no wish to shoot it down. This story has been in the family for generations, perhaps shaming some and delighting others. I’m not going to be the one to kill it. Let future generations cherish it along with us. Soon I will pass it on to the older grandchildren.

For our purposes today as we write our own lifestories, you could choose to purposely do something audacious (scandalous may be a bit over the top) specifically for the purpose of writing about it. That’s what Elizabeth Gilbert did for her memoir Eat Love Pray. Thirty years ago I took up skiing for a single season specifically for the purpose of speaking and writing about it. So far I’ve done neither. It’s time to get that experience on the page.

But chances are you’ve already done something adventurous and colorful, showing a sassy attitude at least some of the time. Something brave and gutsy — the sort of story Sonia Marsh features on her Gutsy Living blog. Read some of those stories online, or do it the easy way and order My Gutsy Story, an anthology of top-rated posts. (I must add a disclaimer here that one of my stories is included, but I have no financial interest in the project.)

Going back to the original advice, the definition of scandalous varies from one generation to another, so what seems utterly outrageous today may seem rather tame tomorrow. Even so, disclosures today can affect relationships today, so exercise the usual discretion when it comes to confessions that could rock many boats.

Whether your story is scandalous or merely colorful, be sure to include reflections about your thoughts and feelings during and after the experience. Did you feel fear? Exhilaration? Guilt? Pride? Create vivid scenes with compelling description and strong, active verbs. Make the story as lively as the experience, and claim your spot in history as a colorful and memorable ancestor who stands out in the crowd. Be the one they talk about.

Write now: make a list of ten gutsy, audacious, perhaps even scandalous things you’ve done. Pick one and write the story! Then write another. Give your descendants something to talk about, and perhaps a standard to live up to.

Happy 100th Birthday to Blanche Lippincott

Blanche Lippincott, 100 years old (photo by Susan Lippincott Mack)

Although the number of centenarians is rapidly growing, having a hundredth birthday is not a once-in-a-lifetime experience for very many people. My mother-in-law, Blanche Lippincott, is one of those people, and I pause today to celebrate with her.

Blanche was born 100 years ago in Tucson, in the newly admitted state of Arizona. Her family soon moved to Ray, Arizona, a now deserted copper mining community, where they lived until she was about twelve. When the the copper industry declined, her parents, along with a few aunts and uncles, decided to move back to Philadelphia.

After high school she worked for a few years in the accounting department for the telephone company. In 1937 she met and married Ezra Lippincott, and they lived happily ever after – although ever after came a bit sooner than expected. He died unexpectedly early in 1969, leaving her a widow at only 57.

During those happy years they enjoyed entertaining, and their parties were always a hit. They took several Caribbean cruises back when ships were smaller and dinner was a full dress event.

After his death, she began a new career, working as a teller for a neighborhood bank, a job she held until she was forced to retire at the age of seventy.

If you asked her, she’d tell you she has had a rather ordinary life, and so it may seem to some. She’s never done anything truly flamboyant. She hasn’t set records, started a business, or written a best-seller. But she has tackled life with gusto, always open to new adventures and experiences. She’s played golf and bridge. She collected and refurbished antiques. She took tailoring lessons and dancing lessons. She belonged to Questers for dozens of years.

Perhaps her  most important attribute is her devotion to family, friends and community. When she married she became a member of the Religious Society of Friends, better known as the Quakers, and she has been a steadfast member ever since, serving on countless committees and helping with events. No family member or friend ever has to ask for help – things are taken care of, often before the need is recognized. She always has something good to say about anyone she speaks of, and she excels at showing gratitude and appreciation.

In 1994 she moved into an independent living apartment in a  Continuing Care Retirement Community, and within a short time she knew virtually every one of about 150 residents along with their life stories. Every time we’d go from her apartment to the central area, we’d have to stop a dozen times as she greeted another resident and introduced one or both of us. It has often been difficult to reach her by phone because she’s always out at an activity. Until recently that often included playing bridge, but her eyesight has deteriorated so much that’s no longer possible. When she quit driving five or six years ago, she retired from the local hospital thrift shop where she had served as a volunteer for over twenty years.

I could not ask for a sweeter, more supportive and helpful mother-in-law, nor is anyone prouder than she of her two children and their spouses, her five grandchildren and their spouses, and her six great-grandchildren. She is the most optimistic person I know, and should I live to be 100, I hope I’ll be as vital and involved as she continues to be.

Happy Birthday Blanche. May your good health and happiness continue for every one of your remaining days.

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.

Alpacas Are Mom Enough

On a recent trip to Bolivia and Peru, our tour group stopped at the mysterious Sillustani burial towers near Puno, Peru. As we hiked up to the site, I was amazed to see a young alpaca nearly as big as the mother root for swigs of milk between mouthfuls of succulent grass. I was equally amazed that Mom didn’t seem to notice. Female  Alapacas are obviously mom enough, I thought, zooming in for a closer look at a picture I took.

My thought harks back to the May 21 Time Magazine cover. Its provocative picture of Jamie Lynn Grumet breastfeeding her three-year-old son as he stands on a stool created a predictable storm of controversy. The caption, “Are You Mom Enough?” added fuel to the fire, seeming to throw down a gauntlet to advocates of early weaning.

A quick search led me to an article showing that the proper age and process for weaning alpaca crias is as controversial among ranchers as the human topic.

You know where this is all going: story time! I became a mother just as Lamaze classes and La Leche League were picking up steam in Boston. Fellow grad student wives introduced me to these cutting edge trends that defied the tradition of the anesthetized birth experiences our  mothers had undergone and the hassle and hazards of bottle feeding. I inadvertently ended up with an “old school” Harvard Med professor obstetrician about my grandfather’s age, and their pep talks prepared me to stand my ground.

My dignified doctor was aghast at my plans to breastfeed. “We don’t raise our young women to be cows!” he said. “We’ll be traveling across the country when the baby is four weeks old …” I shot back. He gruffly conceded the point, but obviously clung to his belief.

Over the ensuing years, conversations with women friends have often ventured onto experiences and memories of breastfeeding. Some did, some didn’t. Some tried and soon switched to bottles for various reasons. 

We talk about it freely, but of all the hundreds of student stories I’ve read over the years, I do not recall a single one addressing the topic of breastfeeding— not even peripherally.

What a shame! What better topic to share with future generations than your experience in this regard, whether it be good, bad, or indifferent. These are the stories that bind generations, and may also serve as encouragement.

Before you write, consider your feelings about the topic. Does it embarrass you? Do you still feel the need to keep a blanket over the topic as you once hid your suckling infant from view? Does the topic of breasts seem too prurient to write about publicly? Where did your attitudes originate?

While you’re on the topic of feelings, think about the physical sensations and emotions involved – the feel of the child in your arms, the chair you generally used, satisfaction, pain, dismay – anything that comes to mind. If you chose to or had to bottle feed, how did you feel about that? Did you feel like a failure for not breastfeeding? Were you relieved? Follow your intuition to the bottom of this feelings barrel. What smells do you recall? How about sounds?

Do you have childhood memories of feeding babies? Did you help bottle feed siblings or babysitting charges? Did your other breastfeed you or your siblings? Did you hear her talk about it?

These questions have no right or wrong answers, but they are important. Weaving insights into a story or essay on the topic will give it life and meaning beyond anything a factual account could possibly achieve. Your thoughts and memories are an important part of the history of child reading and nutrition.

Write now: a story or essay about your experiences with breast or bottle feeding. If you never had children and/or you’re a man, your views still matter. You may not have had the same experience, but everyone has had experiences with this important subject. Please leave a comment about your feelings on writing about this topic.

Too Silly to Write About?

“Is anything too insignificant or silly to write about?” asked Margaret, a frail-looking resident at a retirement community where I was presenting a program on lifestory writing.

“Any subject can be fascinating if it’s well written. Do you have a specific topic in mind?”

Margaret looked down at her lap and spoke almost in a whisper. “I was remembering the first time I shaved my legs,” she said. “My father didn’t tell me anything about how to do it.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful story!” I replied. “I’d love to hear a story like that about one of my grandmothers!”

“I can’t hear!” “What’s did she say?” My reaction had raised everyone’s curiosity.

“Do you mind if I tell them what you said?”

She blushed and shrugged in agreement, and the large group responded like school kids. Everyone turned to a neighbor and began talking at once. “I remember the first time I shaved …” Men and women alike had shaving stories. Margaret’s shy question had touched every heart in the room, bonding them into one big memory mass. Aside from any interest for descendants, this seemingly mundane topic revived youthful memories and added extra zest to the day. Everyone had extra spring in their step when they left the room after the program ended a few minutes later.

Her core question was how she could take make such a mundane matter into something other people would be interested in. The first step is to lock in content. Looking at the woman’s brief topic statement, several story possibilities emerge. A few starter questions are:

• How did she happen to choose that day for her first shave?
• Had she been teased about hairy legs, felt self-conscious … ? 
• How long did it take her to build up to this event?
• Did she ask permission, or just do it?
• What sort of razor did she use? Shaving soap or cream? Blade? 
• How did she feel afterward?

Margaret’s statement raises an intriguing and uniquely personal  question: why did she mention her father as the person who had not taught her what she needed to know? Most girls would turn to their mothers with questions like this. That one phrase hints at a much larger encompassing story.

That list of questions  could be adapted for any similar personal anecdote to identify the basic story. The next step is to give your story a highly personal voice and add sparkle. This calls for adding plenty of sensory description, like the smell of shaving cream, the feel of the suds and the razor slipping across your skin or pulling against stubborn hairs. You might mention the sting of a nick or red blood flowing wetly from a gash. Details like these, along with your feelings and thoughts about the event, will set your story apart and delight your readers.

To answer Margaret’s original question, no, nothing is too silly or mundane to write about if you use your imagination and look at it from a creative new angle.

Write now: use these guidelines to write about your first shaving experience. Include lots of sensory description along with your thoughts and feelings to make a compelling story of this rite of passage.

I Will Keep Writing

Drawing by Rick S. Hall

Am I the only one with 23 unread books piled on my shelf? Each seemed so urgent when I found it, mostly at the Library’s Used Book Sale. All were titles I’d heard of, and intended to check out, so why not buy? I feel stressed!

Am I the only one unsubscribing like crazy from e-mail lists? Skimming blogs I used to savor? Am I the only one who doesn’t keep up with all 583 Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter friends? I feel stressed!

Now the question arises — if I’m stressed and slowing my reading down, maybe others are too, and I’m still writing this blog — is anyone still reading it? Well, yes. I do check stats now and then and see people stopping by from all over the world, and bless all of you who leave comments.

BUT ... I’m keenly aware this could change. Any day. On a whim. The day really could come when everyone turns off, unplugs, tunes out — for a day, a month. Maybe for good.

So what will we all do when everyone is too stressed out to connect with the amazing always-in-touch tools and toys we own? Will we keep writing? If nobody is reading?

My commitment and suggestion is YES! Definitely. I will keep writing.

I will keep writing because writing makes me feel good.

I will keep writing because writing lubricates my creativity.

I will keep writing because I find out what I really think when I put pen to page.

I will keep writing because writing keeps my blood pressure down and helps me deal with the stress of piles of unread stuff.

I will keep writing because writing is my practice, a form of meditation, a form of prayer. Spirit mixes with ink.

I will keep writing because I’m a writer and that’s what I do. On keyboard or paper, I write.

Who will read what I write? Maybe my descendants. Maybe blog readers. Maybe I’ll post more stories on various sites, or publish another book, or an eBook. Maybe I’ll explore digital publishing.

Or maybe nobody will read another word I write. Does that matter? Do I need reader acclaim to validate my skill? My story? Myself? Most definitely not! First and foremost, I write for me.

But, on balance, I think I’ll continue to blog, to read with groups, and generally hang out and share with writers, because that’s my calling, my mission — to help people discover and use writing to find and heal themselves and build connections. I want to help heal the world, one story at a time.

And, because I learn writing by reading what others write, I will keep reading books and blogs for sure. As soon as I write my stress away.

Write now: jot down your thoughts on why you write. What keeps your fingers moving? How important are readers to you? How important is publication? There are no right or wrong answers, and by writing down your answers to these questions, you’ll surely learn something about your motivations and reasons for writing.

Tips for Reading Out Loud

Sharing words of story connects people in a powerful way. And as anyone who has ever listened to David Sedaris knows, stories read by their author take on an extra dimension of life. I love reading to groups regardless of who wrote the story, and I especially enjoy reading my own work. 

My love of reading to others was sparked by Mrs. Schmidt, the third of my string of four first-grade teachers (we moved a lot that year). She insisted the Blue Birds read “with expression.” I loved it! From that day on, I read to anyone who would sit still and listen — sister, brother, classmates, children, grandchildren. Today I read mostly to classes and writing groups.

Most recently, I read one of my stories for the Talent Night event at a Road Scholar program in New Hampshire. To my horror, I forgot to take a copy of the story with me, so I had to rewrite it before I could read it. But read it I did, and I’m still basking in the warm glow of appreciation. I highly recommend this experience to others. 

On November 17 the life story writing group at our local library is going to present A Festival of Life Stories for the public to celebrate National Life Writing Month. Not everyone takes to public reading like a duck to water, and many are nervous. Below are tips I’m sharing with them, and perhaps you’ll also find them useful:

• Print a reading copy of your story in a serif font with larger-than-usual type and wider line spacing. I recommend using TimesNewRoman as your font, sized 14 pt or larger, depending on your eyesight. Bold type may also be a help. Set the line-spacing to 1.5 for this special copy. 


• If you stand to read without a lectern, hold a colorful folder of piece of stiff cardboard behind your pages to prevent them from fluttering in unsteady hands.


• Read your story aloud at home. Whenever your tongue says one thing and the words say another, edit the document to match your tongue. This helps the words slide out more smoothly.


• Read your story aloud at home. Read the final draft aloud to yourself, preferably in front of a mirror. Practice using lots of drama and inflection, like the librarian at Story Hour. Listen to Books on CD for examples.


• Read your story aloud to one or more other people — family member, friend or reading group.


• Read your final draft aloud at least six times to master it. Even though I’ve been reading to groups for decades, I practiced that most recent story six times before the show. It made a difference! It allowed me to frequently lift my eyes from the page to gaze out at the audience, using my finger to mark my place.

With this rehearsal, you may still feel nervous, but your preparation should pay off, and you’ll sound like a pro. 

Write now: pick one of your favorite stories and read it to someone. Then write about your feelings and thoughts before and after you read. Was it enjoyable? Why not? What might prevent you from enjoying this experience? What could you do to remove this obstacle? 

Mention Your Journal in Your Will

>After learning that I teach and write about journaling, a woman I recently met asked me a heart-wrenching question. She told me that her adult daughter died last year and left instructions with her significant other that she did not want her mother to read her journals. Then she asked, “Should I read them?” 

My reflexive answer was simple: “No! I wouldn’t if I were you.” We discussed the matter briefly, and I could sense her disappointment with my answer. Clearly she’d hoped for permission to cling to that forbidden fragment of her beloved daughter, to know her as fully as possible under the circumstances. But I stand by my answer for the following reasons:

• Her daughter asked that they not be shared with Mom. This a chance for Mom to honor her daughter’s wishes and memory in this last way.

• Journals are a place to write with brutal honesty about our own shortcomings and uncertainties. They are a place to try on ideas the way we try on clothing in a store. Just for fun I often try on outfits I know will look ridiculous, or I discover others I really like don’t fit well. Most of what I try on goes back on the return rack. I try out ideas the same way in my journal. So there may be things in the daughter’s journals that were temporary thoughts, soon discarded without further consideration or note, but they linger in those pages, waiting to mislead potential readers.

• Journals are a safe place to ventilate frustration and anger about parents and other loved ones. Once it’s on paper, it often dissipates and disappears without a trace, even if no solutions are found, but those smoldering embers remain, waiting to scorch or sear more hearts.

• Young people often try on behaviors the same way they try on ideas. Journals are a safe place to confess to behavior that others may condemn, to analyze and work through trials and tribulations. If others know of these events, even long after the fact, relationships that could otherwise thrive may be irreparably harmed.

The fact that Daughter specifically said she didn’t want Mom reading her journals signals that she knew they contained volatile material, and she was trying to protect both Mom’s serenity and Mom’s memory of her. To me that seems like an act of love. There is no opportunity to clear up misunderstandings with a dead person. 

Some people choose to write journals intended to be a written legacy for grandchildren and the future That’s a noble thing to do. If you are one of these people, you know how much you want to disclose and where to set your boundaries as you write. If you write with pens of fire, take measures to protect your words. 

In either case, whether you write Top Secret journals or open book ones, it’s prudent to state in your will what’s to become of them. This will avoid family squabbles and confusion about who is to receive the public ones, and ensure your wishes are followed if they are to be destroyed. Especially if you want them to be destroyed, be sure to pick a person you can trust to carry out your intention. 

Write now: a short explanation explaining your thoughts and intentions on the future of your journals. Do you want them to be read or destroyed? If you died tomorrow, who would you want them to pass on to? Or who would you trust to destroy them unread? Type this up and date and sign it and have a couple of friends or relatives sign as witnesses. Then place it with your will.

Memories I Wish I Had

  

Clothespin dolls, by Sharon

I wish I remembered clothespin dolls. I'm surprised I don't. They are exactly the sort of craft that I began learning about the time I was weaned and potty-trained and enjoyed ever after. Maybe it's because spring clothespins had come into widespread use by the time I was born. Had I known about them when I was around ten years old, I would have spent weeks making them, creating shoebox homes for them.

It's not too late. I have discovered clothespin dolls now, and found a new purpose for them. I made six to be shared among the tiny granddaughters who are about to arrive for a visit and a couple of local friends. What fun I've had making them. If it weren't for the press of time, I'd make another dozen. What fun I've had, raiding my dwindling scrap bags of yarn and fabric, devising ways to make hair, crafting wee dresses. I feel like a kid again! 

Not only have I made up for the memory I don't have, I hope I'm creating memories for future generations. Realizing the importance of memories better than I did even when my own children were young, I'm determined to create wonderful Grandmama memories with my grandchildren. Considering they all live at least five hours away by air, that takes some doing.

Isn't that just the greatest thing about life writing? It can make us aware of the future and our ability to create the future as well as helping us explore the past. 

Write now: make a list of memories you wish you'd had. Turn that list into a second list of wishes. Take one wish and write about how you can make it come true.

Digging for Gold

I didn’t intend to go so long between blog posts, but life happened. I’m writing this on the plane on the way home from a week-and-a-half of emergency Granny Duty in Austin, helping our daughter tend her tots after a serious knee injury, while her husband was out of town.

Chasing up and down endless flights of stairs after an 18-month old streak of greased lightening and her 3½ year old big sister is enough to fill nearly every minute, but I did manage to squeeze in some precious family history research time in Austin’s magnificent history centers and archives, and in my last hours there, I hit a vein of pure gold.

I’m blessed with a number of colorful ancestors, but the story of my mother’s mother’s mother Tilly has especially caught my fancy. Two months before she turned sixteen, Tilly married Robert Roberts, a thirty-nine-year-old widower with two young children. She bore him five more children before he died ten years later at the age of 49. Four years after that, she married my great-grandfather and her life underwent a radical change, sadly not one for the better.

In the past I’ve left the research on such matters to the team of cousins who have been doing genealogy research for decades. They have documented most aspects of her life with my great-grandfather. This time it was my turn. We’ve always known that Robert was the son of Texas Governor Oran Roberts, but we didn’t know much about that family, or about Tilly’s life during her years as part of the Roberts family.

I began by reading up on the Gov, finding him to be a remarkable man who instituted a “pay as you go” policy in Texas, restoring (or perhaps establishing) fiscal responsibility. He was instrumental in founding the University of Texas and vastly improved the state of education at all levels throughout Texas. When his terms were over, he founded the Law School at UT, and for ten years he served as one of the initial two Law profs there.

It’s easy to find out about the Governor, but his son Robert has always remained obscure. For decades the only information anyone could get was derived from his absence from the Austin City Directories and a couple of obscure news clippings that turned up in online searches.

This time I began searching indexes to find the record of a property transfer a cousin mentioned in an email. To my amazement, I learned that Robert was an active real estate trader. He bought and sold dozens of parcels, and he did it as R.P. Roberts and wife. As recently as the 1960s a married woman in Texas didn’t even own the clothes on her back, so the fact that he included his spouse, who was not yet legally an adult, is truly amazing.

I was not able to retrieve all the property transfer documents. That will have to wait for another trip. But I am totally hooked on this new level of mystery and piecing together her history from these obscure tidbits of information.

As I ponder the clues, I can’t help but think how thrilling it would be if she had left behind a journal, a collection of letters ― anything to give insight into the nature of her life and thoughts. It wouldn’t even need to be a polished story. Anything at all would be treasured by all of us. Please use this account of my search to encourage your family members to join you in creating a legacy of life history for your family.

Write now: jot down the facts you know about one of your favorite ancestors and make plans to acquire more information so you can write about this person before every information source is erased by the tides of time.

National Day of Listening: an Adventure in Multimedia

Have you ever wished you could watch movies of your ancestors and how they lived, or at least hear their voices? Although it's too late to capture your ancestors on video StoryCorp is doing something about that for future generations. They recognize the value of hearing voices from the past and are dedicated to preserving them. They are an independent nonprofit project whose mission is “to honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening.” Jerry Waxler wrote an inspiring blog post on Memory Writers Network about his heartwarming experience with StoryCorp.

Realizing that a very small percentage of the world’s population will ever be able to visit a StoryCorp studio, they have begun urging people to use their own equipment to record interviews with family members and others they care about. This Thanksgiving, “StoryCorps asks you to start a new holiday tradition—set aside one hour on Friday, November 28th, to record a conversation with someone important to you. You can interview anyone you choose: an older relative, a friend, a teacher, or a familiar face from the neighborhood.” You can learn more about this and find detailed guidelines to help by visiting their National Day of Listening website.

This StoryCorp request and nudge toward multi-media lifestory and family history projects seems timely. I still advocate print and written stories as the basic medium, because it is the most durable and accessible, but sound recordings, video, digital scrapbooks and photo albums definitely add impact to your stories by involving more channels of sensory input, and younger generations are becoming increasingly used to multi-media, even if they are avid readers.

If all you have available is a tape recorder or an older video camera that records on tape, don’t hesitate to use it. Just keep in mind that both audio and video tapes tend to deteriorate over time, and it’s becoming difficult to purchase players for them, so as soon as possible, get any tapes you have, new or old, transferred to digital format and burned to CD or DVD disks for storage. You can convert audio tapes yourself with a tape player that has a port for connecting to an external speaker, an audio cable (available for a few dollars at any electronics department), and the free open source Audacity sound capture program. If you ask around, you probably know someone with a combination VCR/DVD recorder to use for playing the tape and simultaneously recording it to a DVD disk, or you can purchase such a device for as little as $59 online (check reviews!).

If and when if your budget allows, prices for digital recorders and camcorders are plummeting. If you already have an iPod or other mp3 player, it may have a voice recorder function that will do the trick. My Creative Zen V Plus mp3 player that I spent $79 for a year ago isn’t quite studio quality, but it’s as good as most tape recorders and quite adequate for the purpose. Cnet.com offers excellent product reviews along with buying guides such as this one for mp3 players to help you choose.

Most digital cameras today have a video mode. It may produce a rather small image, but it’s better than nothing, and you won’t be able to turn the clock back later when you get a better one. Even if the video is less than the best, you'll have the audio. Start with an empty card, the largest you have, and set the camera on a tripod or prop it on a solid surface while you do your interview.

A scanner is the only equipment you need to take old photos and pop them into PowerPoint (or the free OpenOffice equivalent, Impress). Add captions, and get as creative as you want with special effects. You can even record a voice track and add music if you feel adventurous and dig around in Help to figure out how.

Think out of the box and use the toys you already have to create something wonderful. Your imagination will be stretched, you’ll form lots of new neural connections to keep your brain healthy as you learn new tricks to use the software involved, and your family will love the results.

Write now: inventory your gear and use the guidelines on the National Day of Listening site to make plans for recording an audio and/or video interview on the National Day of Listening this year. Find half a dozen old photos, scan them into the computer if you haven’t already done so, and make a simple PowerPoint slide show.

Living Color

I’m a great fan of Natalie Goldberg. Not long ago I read her book, Living Color. The book is filled with Natalie’s glorious art, in all its aberrant color. Natalie explains her color choices on page 3:

I was delighted one day to paint an adobe house blue. Stepping through the belief that I must paint mud brown, I experienced an explosion of energy and freedom. It was as though that blue paint were a sword slashing through illusion, bringing me into direct connection with the house’s essence. Objects began to dance unhinged from their proper pigment. That man is green, those sheep are maroon, that horse is scarlet, I suddenly wanted to shout with a new-found freedom as I gazed around me from the hilltop where I had drawn the blue house.

Her explanation about using color to learn metaphor is hazy, but I was intrigued with the idea of playing with color that way. It reminded me of a post I wrote in September about the origins of the Inner Critic. I felt bold. I wanted to play with color, and I wanted to do it the easy way, so I Googled my way to The Coloring Spot and found ready-to-color pictures. In the interests of full disclosure and truth, I’ll admit that I did my coloring on a fresh layer in Photoshop® with a virtual felt-tip pens. It would have been easier to print the pictures and color with crayons!

I began with the Great Wall of China. I didn’t give specific thought to choosing color. I just picked orange for the sky and went from there. I did add a big yellow sun, because the picture told me it needed a sun, and I didn’t want to mess with the sun. The sun is what it is. Everything else is negotiable. I also added a person (me) walking on the wall. I didn’t bother to add the other thousands of people who were there with me. I feel lonely without them, so next time I’ll draw more people.  

The Great Wall was so much fun I turned to Mt. Rushmore. As I began scribbling, my inner child grew tired. My Brat started arguing with my Good Girl. Mommy had to put the colors away.So, I had fun. I had lots and lots of fun. Did I learn anything about writing? Sort of. I did some writing practice and discovered that I can write nutty, bizarre descriptions, wild as you can imagine. I wrote about a man who needed to have his lawn mowed to keep it out of his eyes, and a walking flower garden (a woman in a wild floral print dress. I can crumple these up and toss them into the trash when I'm done if I want. My mind grows a little wider this way. I’ve put out a few feeder roots out of my thought ruts toward more colorful descriptions.

In a few days I’m going to get out my crayons and color with my three-year-old granddaughter. I want her to know it’s okay to make the sky orange if she wants to (just in case she hasn't figured this out). I’ll invite Natalie to sit with us, in spirit if not body, since she has no children or grandchildren of her own. I know she’d have fun.

Write now: take a break with your box of crayons or marking pens, or Photoshop. Dare to color outside the lines and use unexpected colors. Be brave. Be bold. Have fun. Then go back to your writing and write something utterly ridiculous and audacious. See how it feels to use big juicy words for tiny topics.

A New Alphabet

I just discovered that SARK has a new blog, or as she calls it, her online journal. In a post last month I wrote about her new book, Juicy Pens Thirsty Paper. She’s just full of new things.

Like her books and e-letters, SARK’s journal brings scented pens to mind. Sometimes I lean toward my monitor and sniff to be sure, disappointed that I can’t actually verify the scent of a succulent strawberry, grape, blueberry, orange, and raspberry salad with a tangy lemon-mint dressing. My disappointment at the lack was forgotten when I played the audio file she posted. I won't repeat her whole story. The part that inspired me was her intention to start a new tradition of using only positive, affirmative words to clarify oral spelling. For example, A is for Awesome rather than Apple.

Just like that Sarabelle tossed me an idea: using this Affirmation Alphabet to spell names. This may not be a piece of writing you’ll want to share with the world at large. You may feel embarrassed to publicly display a poster such as this one.

But, why not make yourself one for your own private viewing? Or heck, make one, show it, and tell people a friend did it for you if you blush. If you need to warm up, use someone else’s name to start.

This exercise has at least three benefits. First, it’s a terrific self-affirmation. Write it and believe it. Show some positive attitude! This may not be life story writing, but it is life writing. Think of it as writing about your future ideal self. The self you are becoming.

The other benefit is that I guarantee nearly everyone will be reaching for a dictionary and expanding your descriptive vocabulary. Not all the words on that poster came easily to my mind. Ravishing took some digging, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it. I made this poster for a sweet three-year-old. But I might be bold enough to use it for my own poster.

The third benefit is that you’ll have a lot of fun. I haven’t played around with my doodle pens for ages. It’s about time. It’s fun. I think I’ll find a new place to keep them that’s easier to reach.

SARK is such a good influence. I’m not going to start writing everything by hand with a different color for each sentence and flourishes and squiggles everywhere, That wouldn’t be me. That would be imitation SARK. But I can find my own way. I might do my poster in a graphics program. I can get wildly creative there, far more easily than on paper. Or ... I’ll let my imagination run wild.

Thanks SARK!

Write now: your own name poster. And you don’t need to limit your selections to one word per letter. Live it up. Use five. Just make sure they are affirmative. Make a poster for a friend, or a grandchild. Make lots of posters and give them away to their namesakes. You can do for them what they may never dare do for themselves. You may find that you’ve developed a whole alphabet of affirmative words and you can help change the world as SARK is hoping.

Triumph!

My heart goes pitter patter for a few seconds as we walk up to the ticket window at Cedar Point. I know I'm going to have to live up to the commitment I brazenly made in my last post. I can't imagine going on the first ride the fellows select—a pair of yellow towers seemingly seventy stories high that corkscrew straight up, then back down again. The second is just as bad, shooting up straight up a tower, then straight down the other side.

On the third coaster of the day, the Magnum XL 2000, I decide to just do it. I don't look at the track. Whatever it is, I'll do it. I settle into the seat next to Tosh, buckle up, and check out the hand grips.

“Grandma, I hope you can hang on.”

“Hang onto what, my breakfast?”

“No. A bar or something,” says this sage eleven-year-old. His concern is touching.

“You better believe I'll be hanging on!” I say, reassuring myself as much as him.

I do a quick scan for apprehension and feel surprisingly calm. Just then the cars start to move, beginning a climb up a slope that reaches beyond the range of my vision. I breathe deeply, look out at the landscape unfolding beneath our rapidly ascending perch, and hear people begin to scream. I'm still calm — this is preferable to thinking ahead!

We pause for a fraction of a second and suddenly I'm hurtling straight down, holding on for dear life. I scream because it's what you do. And I feel like screaming. It's not scary, but it is disorienting. The only thing I'm actively afraid of is being shaken to death. I feel like I'm on a buckboard racing across the Pony Express track. My head jerks in every direction as we go up, down, and around curves at 45º angles. An instant headache quickly escalates to a full throb, threatening to burst open and spew my brains all over the island. Up, down, around. We keep screaming along the track. Every muscle in my body is clenched, trying to hold my body together to avoid major damage.

In a mercifully short period of time, we pull back to the dock. I hop out with no sense of triumph. I'm too busy trying to relax my neck, hoping to ease the throbbing in my head, and the warning signals from a mildly twisted lumbar region.

I survived riding the Magnum XL 2000 in background.
Compared to many others, this is a kiddy park ride!

I decide I could ride again. I could ride anything in the park. I'm no longer afraid. I'm not afraid of surviving, even surviving sheer plunges of hundreds of feet, or the most severe loops. I can even imagine enjoying the experience. But I am afraid of the pain it's likely to entail. My body is no longer as forgiving as it was thirty or forty years ago.

In a flash, I realize that I no longer have anything to prove. I could do it. That's enough. I don't have to endure further pain to prove that. I declare myself the official photographer of our expedition, silently bless Cedar Point for their compassionate Senior Citizen admission fee, and feel victorious. This day is a milestone in my life, but not for the reason I expected.

Write now: about a personal victory over fear. Did it have a surprise ending? What about pain? Does that deter you? How do you adapt to the aging of your body and newly discovered limitations?

First You Tell

I'm immersed in grandmothering this week. This is not an activity I have much experience with, although I achieved that status over fourteen years ago. Since our nearest grandchildren live about 1700 miles away, time with any of the six is short and precious. This week is the first time one has come to visit alone, and I'm enjoying every minute we are spending together.

For the past couple of days I've discovered how very little this young fellow knows about our family, and I've been telling stories more or less non-stop. Many of these stories are already written, but for this eleven-year-old, telling the stories is important. Now that he's heard them, sooner or later he'll be happy to have print copies. He's hearing stories about ancestors, about what things were like when I was young, about how we used to do things, and what I think about many things. He’s even hearing stories about his daddy.

But it isn't just “telling.” Dialog is involved, making these stories highly interactive, and easier for him to remember. We make frequent visits to the computer to look at old pictures too. That’s a great way to surface yet more stories. There really isn't any way to beat the power of telling stories in context!

As I think back, I've told many of these same stories to our older two grandchildren, but they already know a lot more about their family background. Visits with them tend to be less rushed, and the importance of the combination of telling/writing had not come through so clearly to me.

Although I say many of the stories have been written, I'm surprised how many haven't, and I've been making notes of those on my story idea list. The fact he hasn't even heard the stories underscores the importance of writing. His father has heard all these stories, most of them many times, but they have not been important enough for him to pass on, at least not yet. I’m reminded of a phrase that I think may have originated with Zig Ziglar: “If it is to be, it is up to me.”

Time with grandchildren — or any young relative — is a great way to regenerate your story well when it seems to run a bit low. It's a good reminder to get back to basics and not loose sight of the importance of Plain Old Stories.

Write now: a personal or family history story you recall holding your grandchildren’s attention. They’ll appreciate having the reminder, with details confirmed. If you don’t (yet) have grandchildren, write for future ones, or nieces and nephews.

What Keeps You From Writing?

It seems like ages since I’ve written a blog post. Life has intervened with a great big virtual brick wall. I’ve been busy writing workshop proposals, workshop handouts, urgent e-mails, Life Writers Forum postings, Morning Pages — everything but a blog post.

Other things have also gotten in the way. I urgently needed to clean my desk off and that led to rearranging my office, trashing some files, that sort of thing. Plus, there’s yard work to be done, preparation for a visit from a grandson, you know how all that goes.

You may think it odd that I let other writing get in the way of writing for my blog. Yes, that does seem strange. But it would be no different for someone who wrote reports at work all day to have trouble getting around to writing a lifestory in the evening.

So, what does a person do when it’s been longer than intended between writing sessions? I could wallow in guilt, but (correct me if I'm wrong) I don't believe I have any readers who feel cheated or resentful if I take a couple of extra days off. I do have a personal commitment to maintaining this blog for some time to come, but I’m flexible enough to realize that sometimes a break allows me to return refreshed, and that sometimes life intervenes.

So, what I do is simply sit down and start moving my fingers again. Let the words flow and a blog will take shape, as it’s doing now. If you have been away from your writing, don’t waste time feeling guilty, berating yourself, or moaning. Pick up that pen or get those fingers on the keyboard! Do some free writing to get the pump primed, check your story idea list for a starting point, and get those fingers moving. Words and stories will happen.

What I’m referring to here is not writer’s block, though writer’s block may be a cause. I’m referring to loss of momentum. If it’s that simple, then simply starting to write again will probably be enough to get you back up to speed. If not, check this list of posts about writer’s block, or take a look at these five exercises.

If you are feeling overwhelmed by a stressful schedule that leaves no room for indulging passions like writing, perhaps you need to find ten minutes a day, perhaps in the bathroom, on the bus to work, or some other “sandwich time” and journal some thoughts about your lifestyle and priorities. The thing you are avoiding may be the very thing that can help fit the pieces of your life puzzle together.

Write now: about an experience you have had with blocks to writing and how you overcame them. Or write about the blocks that are keeping you from writing and explore ways of working around them. You are bound to find this experience enlightening and rewarding.

To Spell, or Not to Spell, That is the Question

A flurry of blogs and articles have hit the Internet with thoughts on the importance of correct spelling and grammar. In a post on Idealawg, Stephanie West-Allen links to sources supporting both sides of this debate. An article in the (British) Independent argues it both ways. In her blog, Penelope Trunk squarely stands in the center of free-writing. I find her argument compelling, but not convincing.

Part of the equation for debating this issue is the fact that students are apparently not learning accurate spelling and grammar in public schools. Creativity and preserving self-esteem by accepting any form of personal expression is seemingly valued more highly than literacy. Or, perhaps we don’t want any child left behind? Or perhaps the teachers themselves never learned? Whatever the reason, a generation of functional illiterates is emerging with the belief that text-messaging code is appropriate for general communication.

As I write this, I must qualify it. My older grandchildren write brilliantly, so there is a glimmer of hope. Part of my hope is that this will put them at the head of the pack, but what good is that if the pack doesn’t know enough to recognize excellence?

Since my personal vow is to keep this blog focused on lifestory writing rather than political rhetoric and soapbox grandstanding, I’ll turn the corner back to task.

For the record, when writing anything for public dissemination, I firmly support correct spelling and grammar, and I also encourage these attributes in private writing. Attention to detail is never inappropriate, though it does matter more in some contexts than others. There's always room for leeway in e-mail and journals.

Having said that, I’ll flip to the other side of the coin and reiterate my constant reminder that concerns about grammar, spelling, and punctuation should never get in the way of telling your story.


Write those drafts as freely as they come to mind. You can fix them later. If fate intervenes and you never edit them, your descendants will cherish them anyway and recognize that they are rough drafts. Wouldn’t you be thrilled with a crudely written story from your (great-)grandparent? I am! Get the stories written, then correct them the best you can and don’t worry about it.

If you want to be a candidate for a Pulitzer, then read voraciously with a critical eye, and study everything you can get your hands on about writing. Seek coaching, and write your heart out. If your only concern is creating a legacy of stories for your descendants, let the words flow from your heart and they’ll spill into others. That’s quite enough.

Write now: about your experience studying spelling and grammar in school. Did you do well? Was it difficult for you? Did you enjoy diagramming sentences? What thoughts about this subject do you want to share with future generations? Write about writing lessons you’ve learned from reading other writers.

Reactions to Gretchen

After posting my introduction to Gretchen, my newly emerged Inner Censor, I read it to a writing group. The first response was, “Is this fiction or what?”

“No. It is not fiction. Strange as it may sound, I did meet Gretchen, and she is quite real — at least to me.” That explanation sparked a lively discussion of reality, truth, writing about arcane events and beliefs and all sorts of good things. Somebody mentioned that it’s normal for children to have imaginary playmates.

“Sarabelle and Gretchen are not imaginary.” I assured them. A few eyeballs briefly rolled at that. If they didn’t know me so well by now, I have no doubt that some would suggest medication or exorcism!

After several minutes, we collectively agreed that I had accessed some deeper well of creativity in my right brain, and all considered it a fun story and intriguing concept, whatever the source. That seems to represent comfortable common ground for all belief systems, from secular to sacred, and it’s a tidy and functional way of putting things.

This discussion poses an interesting dilemma. If I put the story of my Inner Writing Team and all the conversations I have with seemingly imaginary people in a collection of stories for future generations, they may well think that Granny was a total nutcase, assume that these conversations are purely creative writing, or both.

Obviously, if I want them to be taken seriously, I must place these stories in a larger context. I could take the easy way out and simply explain them as the workings of various aspects of my creative subconscious, but I’m inclined to be a little more explicit. I do believe there’s more to it than that, but the alternate explanations are highly intuitive and fuzzy in my mind. It's a matter of degrees of self-disclosure. For strangers and casual acquaintances, the easy answer is fine.

One major challenge I face in writing such a story is that it keeps changing. My understanding continues to evolve as I learn new things and explore various aspects of what I already know. I anticipate this will be the case as long as I live, so whatever I write can be only an approximation. Perhaps I need to take my own advice and remember that “anything I write about this is better than writing nothing.”

Write now: about a non-traditional idea you have, whether in the “woo-woo” realm or simply questioning common wisdom and beliefs.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

The End of the Beginning

Today I had the strongest sense of the end of a beginning. While I was in Austin for the Story Circle Network conference, I also got to spend some time with my youngest grandchild and her big sister. Anna is still a baby, cuddly sweet and always smiling. I swear, this baby smiles even when she's crying. She is so amazingly happy!

As I held her extra tight this morning, for one last time, breathing deeply of her sweetness, I realized this is probably the last time I will see her while she is an infant. Next time she's likely to be toddling around, trying to keep up with everyone and everything, with little interest in snuggling against Grannie's shoulder.

But this wasn't about the end of Anna's infancy. This is about the end of the Grandbaby era. One can never be sure, but I suspect our quota of grandchildren has been amply filled. In truth, each time I see any given one of them, I enjoy them a little more, and it's exciting to notice the way their minds and personalities are unfolding like beautiful flowers.

And yet, as I held Anna, although the context of the song and my situation were quite different, I heard a snippet of Roger Whittaker's song, The First Hello The Last Goodbye, “...the end of the beginning is the beginning of the end.” This was such a poignant moment, one to be much savored, and commemorated in writing.

Write now: about a sense of impending endings. Have you ever said a last goodbye to someone you know you'll never see again? How did you feel when your last child began school, or your nest was empty?

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal