“GO ASK ALICE.” That single lyric sent me down and through the rabbit hole the other day as I was cruising around in my car and the sound system provided a magic carpet ride back to the days when I sang in rock bands. Now there is a sentence to curl the hair of one’s child, yes? I sang in rock bands, and with the help of my car’s radio, I’m back belting out the songs I covered, re-upping my love for the playlist of my life. Have you got one? I suspect you do. Use it. Why? Music inspires memoir.
What do I mean?
All memoir requires research. Sometimes that research is as simple as calling a sibling and asking the name of the next-door dog growing up. Other times, it means going to your local historical society and looking up your neighborhood or home history. (When I did this, I was rewarded with the news that my house was a Speakeasy during Prohibition). The music of your time will take you back to your first church basement dance, or when you got your driver’s license. Music carries us back, magic-carpet-wise, through our lives.
My years as a rock and roll singer were few – part of high school and into college – but I loved every turbulent minute of it, covering anything sung by Christine McVie (of the original Fleetwood Mac) and Bonnie Raitt. And I tried hard to look the part, though I was never really cool enough for the role.
No matter. I learned my lines, belted out my tunes, and did my best until other interests came and swept me away from the band. That is, until now. Now I am back in full voice, and delighted to be back in touch with the playlist of my life and, along with the lyrics, remembering those women who are attached to these songs almost as tightly as I was to the jeans I used to wear. I love that twinned memory aspect of music, don’t you?
It’s an inspiration, isn’t it? Yes, it is. And one that can inspire many pieces of memoir.
So listen up, and write on.
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 six writers. Get a first draft of your memoir finished in six months.
J. Lea Lopez says
Well, I never sang in a rock band, only choir in high school. But I love belting out some good tunes. I’m a little shy about it, though, so I don’t do it very loudly. That is, until recently. Last month, at the ripe old age of 28, I finally got my drivers license for the first time. I soon discovered that the car is the perfect place where I can sing to my heart’s delight without worrying about the neighbors!
marion says
Hi there, J. Lea.
Welcome to my new blog. Congratulations on that driver’s license! Great achievement. And the freedom, well, you’ll love it.
Thanks for coming by and sharing about that singing thing.
That’s a lovely little piece of memoir on the topic of freedom.
I hope you’ll write finish it and send it out.
Write on, sister.
Enee Abelman says
1970- A group of us from Junior High School were invited to appear on the local TV station dance show,10’s Bandstand. My Mother whipped me up a blue calico print micro mini A line dress with matching panties. I was in 8th grade and thrilled to have a boyfriend a year older. We won the dance contest. The Dick Clarkish host commented on the length of my dress as he awarded our prizes! I came away with a new Polaroid camera and my boyfriend, a pair of suede saddle shoes from Thom McAnn.
This moment was the portal to fearless dancing for years to come.