Writing the Memoir: Long Labor Before Birth
Some writers manage to write their memoirs quickly. I’m not one of those, and I know quite a few memoirists who struggle not only to get their story on the page but to move forward at various stages of the revision, querying, and publication processes. It sometimes seems that the more we learn, the more we need and want to know about writing an engaging narrative focused on a thread of our lives. If only I knew then—when I began this labor—what I know now, everything would have been so much easier, but that’s life and learning for you.
My friend and fellow memoirist, Liz Sjaastad, will soon celebrate the one-year birthday of her published memoir, You’re Too Young to Understand. Liz narrates what many of us will recognize and read with awe and curiosity. It is a powerful story of growing up with a mother’s undiagnosed schizophrenia and the impact of this parent’s distorted reality on each family member.
Liz’s story and its publication show her determination and resilience, and her memoir stands out as a labor of love, a gift to anyone who has contended with mental health issues, whether their own or those of loved ones. Above all, it is a gift to herself. You can learn more about Liz and her memoir here. We celebrate because her labor came to fruition, and now she is nurturing her book.
A Brief History of My Memoir
I met Liz in 2018, when we participated in a two-semester course called the Memoir Writing Project at The Loft in Minneapolis. I surmised that a self-retreat at a live workshop, where I would immerse myself in writing, free from distractions, would move my half-baked project forward.
I drove my aged Acura for two days in snowy February, survived a tire blow-out in nighttime Chicago, rented a cozy apartment where I set up my laptop and printer, and began drafting pages workshopped by a cohort of writers who met weekly for months.
As the course drew to a close in late November, I sat typing on my laptop at the dining room table where I had worked for months. In a flash of recognition, I knew how to end the memoir, and I wrote the final pages of my first draft.
You might think the worst was behind me, that the first draft was an achievement soon to be followed by a polished manuscript. Not counting Shakespeare, who supposedly never crossed out a line, most writers know that a first draft is just the beginning and requires considerable revision.
Inner Saboteur
Photo: Maria Baranova on Unsplash (Background removed by author).
Back home from Minneapolis, I revised the manuscript and reached out to a developmental editor with it, too soon. Her feedback stymied me, and my inner critic, a snarky opponent I’ve battled most of my life, showed up in a full suit of armor, prepared to bring me down.
For years I didn’t acknowledge this pesky interior voice with a defeatist attitude. I couldn’t understand how to improve the pages and became discouraged. My writing must be worthless, I thought. Who would be interested in the story of a girl who struggled to gain respect long ago while laboring in the fields of a family farm?
Weeks stretched to months, months to a year and beyond. Occasionally, I opened the manuscript and attempted to work on it. Mostly, I couldn’t bear to think about it, let alone bring myself to ponder it and figure out what it needed.
My anxiety increased and turned into panic. Perhaps my anguish resulted from reliving painful experiences yet again. More likely, I despaired over the writing itself. This story might never be good enough, whispered a familiar voice from long ago.
Progress in Baby Steps
About this time, my memoirist friend Liz reentered my life, organizing a writers’ group and inviting me and a few fellow writers to meet online to discuss our pages. In this safe group, I reengaged with my story. Liz showed resolve and focus and progressed to publication. I progressed to more months of work on completing new drafts, hiring a new developmental editor, and taking more courses on craft.
This second developmental editor offered little advice, suggesting I was almost done, yet the inner voice nagged me still. Last fall, I enrolled in a program focused on structure and began another round of substantive revisions. A few months ago, I participated in a GrubStreet Advanced Memoir workshop to reconsider the crucial beginning.
This creative endeavor has been a long labor, and my memoir baby is almost ready to be born. I will soon begin querying, another hurdle, another labor, but one I’m ready to face. Snarky inner critic, be gone!
Photo by Jordan Christian on Unsplash
