WHAT MAKES GOOD MEMOIR? I get this question all the time when I teach, including in a recent class, and it reminded me that it’s time to limn that line here between what is merely some great scene versus a scene that is ready for the writing. That begins by reminding you to ask yourself: What is this about?
At some point in every memoir-writing class, I tell my students about what makes good memoir by talking about a male architect I barely knew when he married a friend of mine. For their wedding he not only designed, but also sewed, his wife’s crushed white velvet, floor-length, cut-on-the bias dress, and made her white pillbox hat to match.
Consider that scene for a moment: Another bride, another groom, another musty old church filled with people in their 30s shooting looks at the dress, the hat, this Olympics of sewing on the part of the groom, the guests getting real wide-eyed at one another, raising their palms skyward and their shoulders to their ears. Here comes the bride, and is that groom in the tux and the slender Italian eyeglass frames straight or what? At that time, thirty years ago, when that wedding took place, that seemed to be the question in the air. Now, all these years later? That’s no longer the question, as we have been educated about gender and roles and, most importantly, ourselves.
Great scene. We can agree. But what is it about now? A fine collection of images, but what does it illustrate? Is it a tale about the way we live now, in a state of flux? Is it fixed in time, meaning is it about what it was about then? Or can have a look at from here, with some distance? What are these vibrant details of our lives, and how do we get to use them in our writing? You decide.
One good rule to live by as a writer is that just because something happens doesn’t make it interesting. Don’t believe me? Tell someone your dreams. Unless you’re paying them to listen or haven’t slept with them yet (but might), chances are they’ll go to some lengths to avoid this download of your subconscious. Call my husband. He actually gets up and leaves the room if someone tries to tell him a dream. I think that’s why we’re married. So I don’t always have to be the rude one. He looks at this watch, nods, and actually says, “Oh, look at the time,” and leaves.
What is this about? Knowing the answer to that is required when learning what makes good memoir. The illustration–the crushed-velvet wedding dress, the tall groom, the whispers rocketing around the old stone church–needs a context, a frame. Ever notice how the perfect frame can bring out the color in your oil painting, your photo? Same with writing. The frame, the reason for the tale, is the same thing. And the question you now must tape to your wall is, “What is this about?”
What is the wedding story about? at the time it occurred, I had no idea. Then I found a place for it in my little book on how to write memoir, having previously picked up that story a thousand times and had a look, each time putting it away again. It is gorgeous, it was there, and I was able to tuck into a tale, though not until it made sense, in context. Until then, it was merely a spare part waiting to be sewed onto something else. But that was then.
What would I do with it now? I think I just repurposed it. See how?
I’ve got a million of these small moments to look at, thank goodness. And so do you.
Want more help? Join me in live, online memoir classes
Start here, with The Memoir Project System Page, to understand the breadth of all the classes we teach.
Want to jump right in? Here’s a sampling of our classes.
Memoirama: Live, 90 minutes. Everything you need to write what you know.
Memoirama 2. Live, two hours. Limited to seven writers. What you need to know to structure a book.
How to Write Opinion Pieces: Op-eds, Radio Essays and Digital Commentary: Live, 90 minutes. Get your voice out into the world.
And keep in mind that I am now taking names for the next Master Class, the prerequisites for which are Memoirama and Memoirama 2. Live, once a month. Limited to seven writers. Get a first draft of your memoir finished in six months.
(Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.)
Eileen O'Dea-Roach says
Good Morning Marion,
I printed this out and placed it write [oops – right] next to my computer as a reminder to keep on track as I write, write, write the scenes of my life!
Have a great day.
David O'Dea says
Eileen
I am David O’Dea
Looks like my grandfather Alfred was you father’s brother.
Can we connect via e-mail and share possible connections?
My brother and I are working on a family tree.
I gathered from your Newspsper articles that
mt great uncle Leo would be your dad.
Please contact me at
david_odeaca@yahoo.ca
or accept my friend request on facebook.
Thank you,
Sincerely
David O’Dea
Newfoundland.
Ellie O'Leary says
Looks like I need a frame. I sometimes worry that my memoir bears resemblance to that Seinfeld proposal. “Nothing, it’s about nothing.”