Musings of Memoir: Where is the Takeaway?
While attending a writing conference recently, something stood out to me: regardless of genre—mystery, romance, prescriptive/nonfiction, sci-fi or thriller—there’s an aspect of the writer’s personal story in every tale. Even more notable, is how all tales stem from opposition.
For instance, one woman I met was writing a prescriptive book on “healing versus being healed” based on her belief that you can still experience deep healing even if you aren’t cured of a disease. She was writing about a friend who was battling breast cancer, but who, she said, was so fixated on being cured (healed) that her health was actually declining. When I asked about her friend and what inspired the book idea, she leaned in and with a whisper, said, “Well, it’s really my story. But I don’t want to write about me.” Then, under her breath, added, “Although, I did beat stage four breast cancer.” I gasped. Then smiled. We talked more about what memoir is and what it isn’t.
While memoir is about you, it isn’t about you. That is to say, while memoir is about a major event, like surviving breast cancer, it isn’t necessarily about the disease; instead, it’s about how the experience of living with the cancer (and surviving it) transforms you.
Transformation happens where the two opposing forces meet. For example, being healed is often understood as being cured of a disease; whereas healing might come in the way of acceptance or finding peace with the disease. Working to reconcile these conflicting aspects is the heart of a story—specifically, the inherent friction and how you move through it.
Consider, for a moment, opposing forces that have shown up in your life: joy/sadness; grace/grief; loss/abundance; oppression/freedom; pessimism/optimism; indecision/clarity; unsafe/protected; flighty/focused; insecure/confident; anger/serenity; pain/pleasure; light/dark. The list is endless. Take a few minutes to think about two opposing aspects you’ve experienced. Do you see the friction, the internal conflict? Does the friction have a sound? A voice? How does it feel in your body? And where? Whatever you uncover, journal a few pages describing the friction and see where it takes you.
Sitting with the friction offers a place to ruminate, contemplate and reflect. Reflection is your opportunity to give readers something that’s not about you, but, instead, a shared bit of wisdom that you gained because of the challenge (friction). Your job as a writer of memoir is to give the reader something to ponder or connect with—a takeaway.
Once she understood the necessity of takeaway, the woman writing about her “friend” decided that she would write her book as a memoir, after all. With confidence, she said, “Takeaways. Yes, I have plenty of those!”
While at the writing conference, I also met several fiction writers. And because I am interested, I would ask them if the story was based on their life. More often than not, they’d blush a bit and confess that, “Yes, it is, but I don’t want it to be about Me.” They would then say something about not wanting to come off as narcissistic.
Worrying about what others think or that you will come off as self-absorbed is an all-too-common problem in the world of memoir writing and keeps important stories from making it to the page. Everything we touch must pass through our own filter, the lens by which we see and experience life’s challenges, gifts and opposition. How can it be otherwise? All stories (including fiction) come from the writer’s personal experience.
If replacing the protagonist (you) with a friend, as in the above example, is how you are able to make progress on your writing, do that. Or, if writing in third person or fiction serves you (at least to get started), go for it.
Either way, once the basic structure is written, you can revise it to first person. From here, you can study your story, making note of polar opposite forces at work—paying special attention to the friction and how it informed your way of thinking/being.
When I first started writing memoir, I wrote in third person. I didn’t know any better. I hadn’t read much in the genre and I’d never worked with a writing coach. Turns out, though, it’s how I was able to write about the hard stuff (the opposing forces). It took a lot of practice to change my (third-person) habit. Nowadays, when I get stuck, I do it on purpose because it helps me see (the friction) more clearly and write from an objective point of view.
Overcoming ignorance was a recurring point of friction in my (coming-of-age) memoir and serves as a major theme in my story. Below is an example of a takeaway (something readers can relate to) because ignorance is a universal experience. Everyone has suffered the pain of having their ignorance exposed, while also being given an opportunity for learning.
“It was through meeting good-hearted people who influenced my thinking and changed my understanding that I learned that the color of your skin doesn’t make you a Supreme Being; instead, it’s what you carry in your heart that can do that. It would take me years to move through the confusion and discomfort I felt around dark-skinned people and to eventually realize that in order to change a belief that gets instilled in you since birth, you have to change your thinking and open your mind. Opening your mind is the only way to diagnose and then cure yourself from the disease of ignorance. But overcoming the disease of ignorance is a complicated paradox: you have to know you have it in order to treat it.”
Regardless of how you approach your memoir, if you want to avoid coming off as self-absorbed it must offer a takeaway for the reader. Takeaway is found within the friction. Friction is found within the opposition. Moving through and with the opposition is what transforms you. Transformation is what the story is about.