What is The Number One Thing You Need To Write Memoir?
THE NUMBER ONE THING YOU NEED TO WRITE MEMOIR is not a good memory. Nope, it’s not. It’s not a full understanding of your family’s genealogy, nor is it having even a passing interest in who begat whom. No. It’s not what you think it might be. For instance, it’s not the ability to write great dialogue, or scenes, nor is it the strong desire to write in this genre. What is it, then? You might be surprised, especially when you hear that it came to me while cleaning my car.
There I was, prepping for the big Thanksgiving pickup at the airport. Uh oh, I realized, the snow tires got put on yesterday, meaning the regular tires are bagged and in the car, as are some of the groceries I forgot to unload, as well as all the extra dog leashes and, oh dear God, what else, I wondered as I rushed to the garage.
And there, opening the passenger side door, the imagery I beheld made me laugh like hell.
Picture this: A yoga mat. Three copies of The New Yorker, one of The Paris Review. One New York Times Book Review section. The checkout receipt from the local food co-op and, because this is not enough of a liberal stereotype, a half-drunk glass (non-plastic!) bottle of – wait for it – kombucha.
And suddenly I was laughing all the way to the keyboard. Got me. There I am. Yup, that’s me, and it makes a tidy little writing lesson for us all on the first thing you need to write memoir. See it? No? Here’s a clue. It’s not the items. It’s in the laughter.
The number one thing you need to write memoir is to have a sense of humor about yourself. Why? Because marvelous as those details are in defining me, walking my borders, representing me as no Snapchat photo or Instagram story can, it’s what I do with them and about them that makes the tale. Why? Because of the very fact that memoir is not about what you did — it’s about what you did with it.
A sense of humor about ourselves does not mean you have to funny. It means you have to be human, and know that you are flawed, sometimes to the point of deserving a good laugh at yourself.
Look again inside my car: You get a picture of who I am by the contents of my car. But what about the contents of my character? That is percolated up into the piece by the laughter. See the difference?
So get yourself a sense of humor about yourself. Give it to yourself as a holiday gift. And if you don’t know where to start, go open your trunk and have a good look.
So true Marion! As I write and re-edit endlessly. I noticed something that made me say, “Wow what a drama queen I was! (am)! No wonder all those “temper tantrums” then and not as often now! It did make me laugh at myself. I hope others will be able to do so too. Not only at themselves writing their memoir but also those who read mine and can laugh with me too!
Ah, to laugh at yourself.
It’s the balm.
Thank you, Pam.
Agreed. Humor always reels me in. It’s a delicate balance — light and dark — but if I’m ever reading long form and there isn’t a crack of laughter even halfway in, I find myself slowly retreating from the story. Even the worst of situations allows for laughter. Example: my dad had dropped about 60 lbs in a month shortly after being diagnosed with leukemia. A couple of his work buddies came up to visit him at my house where he was on furlough for a week from UVA hospital. They were taken aback by how much weight he had lost in such a short time. He said, laughing, “I’m back to my old boxing weight class in the army. Gotta find somebody’s ass to whip now.” (My dad had a history in his younger days of being quite the able fighter)
When he lost his mustache: “Did you know my teeth were so GD big?”
Humor, perhaps more than anything, is our greatest coping mechanism. It softens the blow. And it tells much about a person.
What wonderful examples Jeffrey! I both laughed and shed tears!
Thanks Pam. My dad didn’t say much, but when he did, it was usually hilarious. After all, he raised me on Eddie Murphy and Richard Pryor stand-up before I could even ride a bike, so that’s telling in and of itself.
Wonderful, Jeffrey. Yes, exactly. Thank you for your generosity here.
You’re welcome, and by the way, I was reading your book The Memoir Project again recently, and just wanted to say thanks for the “gulf war sweater” line. Those few words triggered a slew of memories from my childhood I had forgotten about — one being that my dad bought up a hundred dollars worth of Gulf War trading cards back in 1991. Yes, they existed. They were like baseball cards, made by Topps, but featured such characters as Stormin’ Norman Schwarzkopf. My dad was convinced they would be worth money someday. According to eBay, he was right if you consider $6.95 ‘worth money.’ :)
Oh, I am so glad.
Thanks for telling me.
Best,
Marion
Laughter is the best medicine.
You mean like the frozen solid 21-pound turkey I had wrapped in my electric blanket all day yesterday? And the fact that I made myself laugh out loud when I thought about how cozy it looked snuggled in my blanket and I wondered what book a 21-pound frozen turkey might like to read while trying to thaw; and my brain threw out “50 Shades if Gravy” as its reply? I seriously laughed when that popped into my head.
Perfection, Paula. Absolute perfection. Thank you for this. I will never look at an electric blanket the same way again.
My turkey would be wrapped in gramma’s handmade quilt (turkey trot pattern) reading a vegetarian cookbook (wondering what the heck tofurky is.)
Thanks Marion for your living example of humour in your life and writing.
My kids have a so much better rounded sense of humour than I do. My daughter has at times lamented this. We understand each other’s sarcasm, but I hesitate to share this with those who know me less. It’s often taken literally.
Do you have any books/material you’d recommend to help writers develop this sense of humour please? (and again I’m all serious, definitely need to get a better sense of humour about myself.)
I’ve been writing memoir drafts for a few years now, mostly for family, but have decided I’ll include some aspects in my upcoming blog going online this week.
So glad to have been recommended your site by a fellow Tribe Writer this week, Thanks again. Colleen
Marion, thank you for this. I could see the contents of your car. One of the things that keeps me going as I assess my husband’s and my relationship is a sense of humor. Recently it came to me that sometimes he “balks and squawks” when he doesn’t wish to eat at a pricey place or buy an expensive item. But I still love him.
Thank you for the great writing advice. Humor is also useful in fiction, helping to lighten up a piece of work-a bit of respite from a troubling scene (gives the reader a break from tension.)