Archive for the 'autobiographies' Category

Autobiographical Fiction vs. Fictional Memoirs

Published on August 30, 2011 in autobiographies, Creative Nonfiction, Institute of Transpersonal Psychology and Memoir.

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One of the most common questions from my students is, “How do you decide if you should write a memoir or a novel?” The answer may not always be cut and dry, but experience has taught me that most writers know the answer before they actually pose the question and are just looking for some sort of validation. If they do not know before starting out, then they quickly learn during the writing process. For example, if they find themselves making things up and/or have a vivid imagination, then they should consider writing a novel.

A fictional memoir generally focuses on an actual story, time or event in the writer’s life, but also incorporates enough fiction or fictional technique. An autobiographical novel is a type of novel which merges autobiographical and fictional techniques. In this instance, the names and places in the book are typically changed and events are recreated to give the story more of a dramatic arc. In other words, the events in the author’s life may be altered and thus the writer uses his or her “fictional license.”

Although the terms, “Autobiographical Fiction” and “Fictional Memoirs” are relatively new, the genre is not. It has a rich tradition and has been a good alternative for those who have a story to tell and who want to use a genre that is more accommodating than a traditional memoir. Using these genres which openly utilize fiction techniques helps to avoid what some writers call CYS Memoirs or ‘cover your ass memoirs’ where in the preface the author explains his/her creative process and excuse themselves from being blamed for anything mentioned the book.

The elements used in creating a compelling memoir and works of fiction are similar. They both use drama, conflict, dialogue, scene and descriptive detail. Another vital element of the memoir is the importance of identifying special moments. A moment is the basic unit of dramatic structure, sort of analogous to the scene in fiction. In general, a memoir moves forward by the writer exploring all the important moments in their life and this is done through reflections/thought-processes revolving around the book’s theme or focus.

When all the moments are listed on the page, the writer can figure out what in the situation or character has changed from the beginning to the end of the story, sometimes a special truth or revelation might have emerged. The reader gets the essence of the revelation from reading the writer’s reflections.

Focus is critical to memoir and highlighting important moments that move the story forward. This is done by providing all the details of the moment, including the emotions in a given situation. Diving deep into life’s special moments using all the senses allows the reader to become engaged in the story.

An example of a fictional memoir is True at First Light by Ernest Hemingway that was his last unpublished work after his return from Kenya in 1953. In this book he muses on the act of writing and the author’s role in determining the truth. In other words, what is fact and what is fiction. I recently discovered this book and highly recommend it.

Some Other Fictional Memoirs include:

Lying: A Metaphorical Memoir by Lauren Slater
It’s me, Eddie: A Fictional Memoir by Edward Limonov
Grace by Robert Ward
The Professor’s Daughter by R. Igor Gamow
Sylvia by Leonard Michaels
I, Joaquin by Melvin Litton
Deeper Water by Michael W. Boyd
Alzmek: The Fictional Memoir of a Tainted Life by R.M. Guzman
I Mary, Daughter of Israel by Jacqueline Severia Hure
Chain of Fools by Charles B. Sobczak

Keeping Time : 150 Years of Journaling

Published on February 28, 2011 in Author Blog, autobiographies, breast cancer, Depression, Healing With Words, Health and Wellness, Journaling, Journals, writer blog, writing, Writing for healing and Writing, journaling.

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A few years back I submitted some very personal journal entries to a proposed anthology. I was delighted to hear that Keeping Time: 150 years of Journal Writing edited by Mary Azrael and Kendra Kopelke was recently published. This is a rare collection of journal entries all under one cover. As the editors state in their poignant introduction, “For many people, journal writing is a private activity, spontaneous and revealing, not intended for an audience of strangers.” But these editors did a stellar job of putting together 37 wonderful pieces with subjects ranging from everyday life parental issues, raising children, nature, travel, health and historical events. “Keeping Time,” they go on to say, “stands as witness to the times spanning from our great grandparents to today. It opens a way into our history at its most intimately and sincerely felt, and expands our sense of what a notebook can do to connect us more fully to our lives.”

My submission represented the year 2001, and I have posted it below:

I have been keeping a journal since the age of ten. Over the years, my journal has been my friend and confidant to help me through difficult times. I strongly believe in the powerful healing qualities of the written word.
Today, I teach journaling to breast cancer survivors and high-risk teens. During my breast cancer journey, writing became my lifeline and a way to give voice to my deepest feelings.

The following is an excerpt from my memoir/self-help book, HEALING WITH WORDS: A WRITER’S CANCER JOURNEY.

August 22 (one-day post-op)
I wake up in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) today and Simon sits beside me holding my hand. One part of me wants to look down at the hospital gown covering this corset-like gauze bandage around my chest. Yet another part of me is scared out of my mind. The nurse helps me to the bathroom and I avoid the mirror as if it holds the most dreaded secret. I want to rip it off the bathroom wall. I never want to see myself naked. While walking back to bed, I look over at Simon and begin sobbing with no respite. I know in my heart that one day soon I will have to look at my chest. My hope is that my plastic surgeon will make all the necessary explanations. I am happy that the surgery is behind me, but now I must begin preparing to walk down an even more arduous road. I must get used to the new me.

August 23
Today my mood oscillates back and forth. One moment I want to touch my newly-created breast and the next minute I never want to see it. I am pleased that the reconstruction was done immediately following the mastectomy. After breakfast, I pulled the nurse’s cord to help me sit up. I am terribly sore from being in one position. By the time she arrives moments later, I have already changed my mind. I put my hand over my right breast and feel nothing. I do the same on the left. I can only feel the slight pressure of my hand. How will I ever get used to having no sensations. My right nipple had always been more sensitive than and easily stimulated than my left, but now there is a sense of nothingness, numbness, a void.

Today the nurse removed the bandage around my chest. I looked the other way while crying into my pillow. I felt nothing. My plastic surgeon said some sensations might eventually return, but never again could I become sexually aroused on my right side. So, I have two breasts, but really only one. My sensations have been severed forever. Never again would I experience that sublime tingling when Simon runs his fingers over my rather large nipple—never again on that side. Never could I experience the joy and tingles from let-down reflex when my babies sucked for the first time. I loved that sensation which permeated my soul and brought me such joy.

August 27
The books I have read, and my nursing experience warned me that depression is common following many surgeries, particularly breast surgery, because of the huge psychological component of losing a breast. I should be optimistic because my breast surgeon says that the cancer has been removed. He says I am lucky that it did not spread into my lymph nodes. Yes, this is a true blessing, but there are moments when this is not enough to console me. My father taught me to look at the glass half full and not half empty. I’m trying. Really trying. But, this entire event has been surreal. My defenses are stripped. I have no strength left in my body except for the weeping. Tears flow like an endless river. They pour out without warning and dry up without notice.

August 28
I look around me and see all the technology. I think of my husband, an engineer, and how people like himself have made mine and so many others’ survival possible. He is a fixer. On so many other occasions he wants to quickly make everything better for me. His smile and touch are so healing. He has so much power, but he cannot bring my breast back to me. He says he wishes he had a magical wand to make me feel better. I tell him that the wand was discarded the day it brought him into my life. One person cannot be bestowed with any more luck than me. He implores me to think positively.

Sometimes life is not so simple. I don’t want to say this to him because he tries so hard to soothe me. It’s still early in my post-operative period, but I already feel physically and emotionally changed and drained. In some ways it is easier being far from home. My predicament somehow seems clearer and my mind less distracted by familiar surroundings.

September 3
Today I am nearly two weeks post-op. I do not feel any better emotionally than the day they rolled me out of the cold and sterile operating room. My emotional strength is barely returning. I still get teary-eyed for no obvious reason. This morning, the nurses bathed me. They helped me to the chair where I tried reading a magazine, but my mind wandered. Everything makes me cry, even glancing at the latest hairstyles in the magazine. I feel trapped inside this body that I don’t know anymore.

Here’s what I look like. On my right side is a drainage tube tucked into a hole beneath my mastectomy site. On the same side, another tube leads to the incision in my back where they have removed the muscle and tissue to cup my saline implants. The tube leads to this thing that looks like a hand grenade which dangles from my side. This grenade drains the blood from my wounds, but I think it does the same from my heart. It needs to be emptied three times each day. It’s gross and yet another reminder of my missing breast. When we go to dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, the only thing I can wear are baggy men’s shirts to hide my tube and stupid grenade.

Getting up and going to the bathroom is such an ordeal. I need at least ten minutes to prepare for the departure from my bed. Getting all the wires organized is truly a monumental task. I cannot lean on my back; the drainage tube sticks straight out. I cannot lean on my right side—another tube. They hurt like hell. There are no more comfortable positions left for me. Jeannine [mother-in-law] asked if I have been writing. She must be kidding! I have so much to write about, but I cannot focus. My mind wanders beyond belief. Life is fuzzy and not even eyeglasses can help. I am just plain frustrated. I can only muster these few words and even these exhaust all of my energy.

September 4
Today I will go visit my plastic surgeon. It seems as if the past couple of weeks have been surreal. A thick cloud suspends over me. How did I get here? I was diligent about my annual mammograms and check-ups. On the first day of my menstrual cycle I diligently did self-breast exams in the shower. There is no cancer in my family. Why am I lying here all mutilated?

I have never thought much about cancer, but one thing I know is that if cancer is in your body, you better get it out quickly. Having had reconstructive surgery at the same time as my mastectomy has put my mind at ease. Even though I have refrained from looking at myself naked in the mirror, there was a sense of relief to waking up with a mound on my right side, even if it was not my own breast, but just a sack of saline water.

September 6
I’m trying to take the position that cancer is no longer lurking inside of me. I did have cancer, but it is now all gone. All of it. I don’t like the sound of the term ‘breast cancer.’ People equate cancer with death. I refuse to die.
When I first learned about my breast cancer, I wanted to hear everybody else’s escapades and everyone’s medical sagas. It seems that everyone knows someone who has had breast cancer. This is not surprising since the statistics have now risen to one in eight women. Listening to other people’s stories is boring at times, and at other times scary. Sometimes it’s inspiring to learn that others are less fortunate than me. The woman in the corridor told me about her stage III cancer. Okay, she made me feel lucky, but I just don’t want to be surrounded by negative energy.

I am so afraid that the cancer will come back. I cry about losing the breast and also about having to lose my other one. Crying comes so easily. Sometimes the tears last a few minutes, other times an hour. It all depends.

Keeping Time is available from Amazon at the link below, and it is a wonderful read. I surely hope you take the time to order and read it.

http://www.amazon.com/Keeping-Time-Years-Journal-Writing/dp/0963138545/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1297999546&sr=8-1

The Art of Rejection : Giving and Receiving

Published on February 7, 2011 in Author Blog, autobiographies, General Information, Musings, writer blog and Writing for healing.

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This past weekend I attended the annual AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) in DC, the largest writing conference in the country. There were 5000+ attendees. I was honored to moderate a panel discussion entitled, “The Art of Rejection: Giving and Receiving.” My esteemed panelists included Molly Peacock, Philip F. Deaver, Geeta Kothari, Wendy Call and Kevin Watson. Each panelist made a presentation on various aspects of rejection.

I introduced our topic by thanking all the editors and publishers in the audience who in the past have rejected my work, which inspired me to pull this panel together. Here’s a glimpse at my introductory remarks:

Rejection is inherent to many aspects of life, and the literary life is no exception. Rejections happen to emerging writers, published writers and literary greats. For example, Normal Mailer’s The Naked and the Dead was rejected by 11 publishers before it was accepted; Elie Weisel’s classic book Night was turned down by at least 15 publishers. Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead—which now sells 150,000 copies a year—was turned down at least a dozen times.

If we let them, rejections can suck our spirits of their very essence. So, why do we torture ourselves like this? The reason is that rejection is a rite of passage in an author’s life. In order to ease the sting of receiving a rejection letter and to grow stronger as a result, it is important to understand what they are and what they are not, how to cope with them and how to move on.

A rejection slip says nothing about your potential. It is not a rejection of you as an individual nor the value of your writing endeavors, but rather, it is the rejection of a piece of work submitted for possible publication.

If you’re an editor or publisher and also a writer, the task of giving a rejection can be equally difficult. When I owned a small publishing company back in the 1980s I made sure each writer received a personal rejection letter, because I understood what it was like being on the other side.

Saul Bellow says, “Rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, “To hell with you.”

The panelists all had wonderful insights and we finished with a lively Q & A session. I was delighted that at the end of the panel a gentleman came to the podium and reached out to shake my hand. “I just want to say that I was not one of the editors to reject your work.” I looked down at his badge and it was Jay Rubin, the editor of a wonderful publication, Alehouse. I smiled and thanked him for accepting my essay some years back called, “The Poet’s Notebook.” Thanks again, Jay!

What Story Do We Tell ?

Published on January 31, 2011 in Author Blog, autobiographies, book genre, Creative Nonfiction, fiction, General Information, Memoir, Memory, Passions and Writing for healing.

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Whether you write fiction, nonfiction or poetry, there’s no doubt you have a unique story to tell from your very own perspective. For many writers, reliving and retelling childhood stories are common platforms for their work. We often reflect on those times because they were filled with pain, joy or unanswered questions.

Though we might have a sense of what story we need to tell, once in a while we get stumped. Many writers say their best story ideas come to mind when they’re not sitting at their desk ‘working,’ but rather when they’re out and about. It’s important to remain alert to those special moments in everyday life—odd discoveries and chance remarks made by others in social, work or casual settings.

My typical day begins with reading the news. An article or story might spark my interest, which drives me to surf the web for more information. If I am in the middle of another project, I will toss the idea into my “Writing Ideas,” folder which contains stories I hope to tell one day. Whether I get to writing them or not is another topic, the important thing is to have that folder as a back-up for those days when my well runs dry.

In addition to the “Writing Ideas” folder here are some questions to ask yourself which might also lead to new stories:

1) What’s going through your head?
2) Who are your villains? Who are your heroes?
3) What are you obsessed by?
4) What inspires you?
5) Where are you in your life now?
6) What stories are you compelled to read?

Whatever you choose to write, you will soon realize that the creative journey is similar to life’s journey—unpredictable, unstructured, mysterious and laden with miracles.

In her book, Negotiating With the Dead: A Writer on Writing (2002), Margaret Atwood says, “Writing has to do with darkness, and a desire or perhaps a compulsion to enter it, and, with luck, to illuminate it, and to bring something back out into the light.”

In Writing (1993) Marguerite Duras says, “Finding yourself in a hole, at the bottom of a hole, in almost total solitude, and discovering that only writing can save you. To be without the slightest subject for a book, the slightest idea for a book, is to find yourself, once again, before a book. A vast emptiness. A possible book. Before nothing. Before something like living, naked writing, like something terrible, terrible to overcome.”

Sometimes the stories we choose to write help us to learn more about know ourselves and to figure out the world around us. Oftentimes, it is about making a discovery. Even our darkest—or unknown—thoughts, memories and fears, can transform themselves to reveal value and meaning for us in our lives now. And with any luck, for others as well!

New Year Musings

Published on January 3, 2011 in Author Blog, autobiographies, General Information, Health and Wellness, Journaling, Journals, Musings, New Year, Passions, writer blog and Writing, journaling.

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Typically, this is the time of the year when many of us make promises to ourselves that we are unable to keep. Recent studies have shown that only about twelve percent of those who make New Year’s resolutions actually achieve their goals. Some believe that if you share the content of your resolution with someone else, then your chances of success are increased, but there is no guarantee.

Making a New Year’s resolution involves committing oneself to a new habit, breaking an old one or making a personal lifestyle change. Anyway, what can be so wrong with improving ourselves? I have always been curious about the spectrum of New Years’ Resolutions. Recently I researched to see what were the most popular, here are the ten most common from year to year:

1. Spend more time with family and friends
2. Get fit
3. Get slim
4. Quit smoking
5. Quit drinking
6. Enjoy life more
7. Decrease debt
8. Help others
9. Get organized

This year, rather than making a New Year’s Resolution, I have decided to use these and use the suggestions of writer Carolyn Graham who offers the following advice for those she calls, “wicked”:

(http://debramoffitt.wordpress.com/?p=236&preview=true)

1. Create harmless mischief whenever possible. Find a friend who likes to incite you and will share in some mischievous hilarity. If there are no friends available, use your best thinking and mentally engineer an event designed precisely to meet your needs.
2. If someone tells you your bread’s not baked, or you have a loose screw, or your elevator doesn’t go to the top, consider yourself highly complimented and extraordinarily gifted. You have probably shed some of the constricting and restricting bounds of convention.
3. Look in the mirror: acknowledge and celebrate yourself as a masterpiece in progress. All of us are superb examples of a true work of art, an ever developing piece, even if some of the places have shadows.
4, Walk into each day as if you owned the world. Put your head up, your shoulders back, and swagger a bit. Remember, with choices about how you think, you do own your own space…your world.
5. If you can’t believe you’re great, then act like you are! Being great means reaching for a hand when you need one and offering one to others who could use some kindness.
6. Buy a new technical gadget you have been wanting. Explain the purchase by declaring that the intellectually stimulating affects of learning to operate the device enhance the performance of your immune system.
7. If you like dark chocolate, keep some readily available and slowly savor a tiny bit on a regular basis. The given pleasure will probably off set any potentially harmful affects. That’s a risk worth taking!
8. Absolutely DO NOT act your age. Retaining childlike behaviors probably goes a long way toward staying vital, alert, and healthy. If you have supposed that to be true, applaud yourself, dance a bit, and invite a friend for a play date.

Happy New Year to one and all!

Namaste,
Diana

The Fine Art of Storytelling

Published on December 20, 2010 in Author Blog, autobiographies, Creativity, General Information, inspiration, Journaling, Journals, Reading, writer blog and Writing, journaling.

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Lately I have found myself contemplating the fine art of storytelling. Some people are wonderful at it and others just want to make you yawn. The idea of storytelling is the conveying of events in words, images, sounds and embellishments. It is a way to express the emotional power of information. Robert McKee, in his book, Story, says “Stories are equipment for living.” In fact, when a story is told well, the listener is transported on a journey to a new place.

According to John Gardner, “Like other kinds of intelligence, the storyteller is partly natural, partly trained. It is composed of several qualities, most of which, in normal people, are signs of either immaturity or incivility: wit (a tendency to make irreverent connections); obstinacy and a tendency toward churlishness (a refusal to believe what all sensible people know is true); childishness (an apparent lack of mental focus and serious life purpose, a fondness for daydreaming and telling pointless lies, a lack of proper respect, mischievousness, an unseemly propensity for crying over nothing); a marked tendency toward oral or anal fixation or both (the oral manifested by excessive eating, drinking, smoking, and chattering; the anal by nervous cleanliness and neatness coupled with a weird fascination with dirty jokes); remarkable powers of eidetic recall, or visual memory (a usual feature of early adolescence and mental retardation); a strange admixture of shameless playfulness and embarrassing earnestness, the latter often heightened by irrationally intense feelings for or against religion; patience like a cat’s; a criminal streak of cunning; psychological instability; recklessness, impulsiveness, and improvidence; and finally, an inexplicable and incurable addiction to stories, written or oral, bad or good. Not all writers have exactly these same virtues, of course. Occasionally one finds one who is not abnormally improvident.”

The holiday season is a good time to share stories amongst friends and family. Some people are better at verbal storytelling, while others, like myself, prefer to revert to the written word. Many of our preferences and comfort zones reflect back to the patterns of our childhoods. As an only child of working parents, I spent a lot of time reading and writing in my journal. My parents were first generation immigrants and worked very long hours to provide food for our table. Dinners were often rushed with a minimum amount of storytelling unless we had a visitor who probed us. As a result, I was raised with books and paper, but gravitated to friends who were good storytellers because my situation made me a good listener. Things haven’t changed. I am who I am.

Lately, I’ve become good friends with a few great storytellers and I have been captivated, mesmerized and curious about what it is that’s missing for me to tell a good story. I have also done some reading to improve my own verbal storytelling (my family often tells me, I neglect to build up the tension and/or I omit the punch line). Heading into my sixth decade, I plan to improve this. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

- Before telling your story, you need to know it well and/or memorize it
- Vary the pitch in your voice when telling a story
- Make sure your facial expressions coincide with the story’s mood
- Make sure the sequence of events is correct
- Build up to the story’s climax
- When finished do not go on to another story
- Practice storytelling in front of a mirror

One thing I also read was the importance of putting on a “story hat.” In other words, just before you are to tell a story, put on your story hat which gets you in the mood to tell your story. It is a way to take your mind off your audience, particularly if you are on the shy side.

If you are curious about some more tips in this area, I suggest you check out a great you-tube on the subject, called, “Storytelling: Theory and Practice.”

A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to one and all!

This blog will be taking a two-week hiatus.

Namaste,
Diana

Writing About Difficult Subjects in Memoir

Published on August 16, 2010 in Author Blog, autobiographies, Creative Nonfiction, General Information, Healing With Words, inspiration, Memoir, Memory, writer blog, writing, Writing for healing and Writing, journaling. Tags: , , , , , , , , .

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Writing memoir can be viewed as a sort of literary alchemy. It is one way to transform your unpleasant past into an art form. This exercise can be cathartic, painful and confusing—things to be aware of before setting down this path. Many people believe they have a story to share but have trouble deciding whether to actually write about it. I say, if the story feels like a knot in your stomach, then it is something you should write whether it’s for publication or not. If there is an internal yanking and feeling that you cannot go to your grave leaving this story untold. That’s pretty much how I felt when writing my two memoirs, Regina’s Closet and Healing With Words.

When you finally decide to tell your story, you should know that it may not be easy getting down to the emotional truth of your subject matter. Sometimes it’s much easier to skirt the deep dark traumas of our past and write about the glossy and lighter events which shaped us.

Yet, writing about trauma can be life-changing for both you and your reader. My advice is to be brave and it will pay off.  Your first draft should be raw and long. Remember to be simple in your thoughts. Tell the truth and be straightforward. You can edit in subsequent drafts. If you have endured difficult times, the good news is that you have survived well enough to be able to write about them.

In my reading on how other writers have coped with writing about difficult subject matter. Many writers suggest not to throw yourself a pity party on the page, but instead, focus on writing the facts. Leave the reader to make their own decisions. In general, readers don’t like the narrative to whine. It is a turn-off and ineffective, however, there is also nothing wrong with letting the reader feel uncomfortable. In fact, if they are, they might be inspired to write their own painful story. This would be a plus for everyone involved.

Many people continue to be haunted by painful wounds of childhood and writing has a tendency to set people free from the shackles. Some might try to write their memoir in the third person in an attempt to remove or distance themselves from the story, but more often than not, however, this does not work because the immediacy is often lost.

Some people ask how they can protect themselves and remain ‘sane,’ while writing their painful story. My answer varies depending upon the person. Psychotherapy might be the answer for you or having someone trustworthy you can talk to on a regular basis, whether it’s an editor or dear friend. It’s good to have someone to call in time of need, just for inspiration or to prod you along—someone to tell that you “can do it.” Some people lean towards writing groups for support, although I have never personally found them helpful, as often times instead of supporting one another’s literary works, participants use the forum to  destructively criticize one another’s work.

Art Spiegelman, the author of the graphic memoir, The Complete Maus: A Survivor’s Tale, says to protect himself from the pain of his past, he wears a bicycle helmet so that when he hits his head against the wall it doesn’t hurt so much. This reminds me of a fiction workshop I once took at the University of the Iowa where Jonis Agee suggested we wear masks while writing. This was a great way to become someone else.

In summary, if a subject is scary or feels dangerous the best thing to do is just write and deal with the post-traumatic stress situation afterwards. Sometimes when you write what you remember about an event, it is one way of separating yourself from it. In a way, you gain a sense of control over your old memory.

Genre Confusion (Book, that is…)

Published on April 19, 2010 in Author Blog, autobiographies, Creative Nonfiction, Memoir, Musings, New York Times and writing.

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In my local bookstore I just picked up a copy of Jeannette Walls latest book, Half Broke Horses: A true life novel and as an instructor of memoir, I wonder about this new genre. Walls last book, a memoir, The Glass Castle (2006), was on the New York Times Bestseller list for quite a while. I read it and loved it. I find her writing quite compelling and she openly called that book a memoir, but I must say I am curious why she decided to call this new book a ‘true life novel.’

I do know that many prose writers who want to tell the story of their lives are frequently in a quandary as to whether they should tell their story as fiction or nonfiction. Typically, I tell my students that there is no correct answer. It’s whatever feels right or organic to your story. Some writers might find themselves experimenting by writing the story in both genres to see which one flows better.

No doubt, whatever genre the author chooses, he or she will encounter reviewer flak, once the book is published. A recent article in The Daily Beast (January 19, 2010), claimed that memoirs raise a perennial problem—sometimes fiction is more powerful than memoir and the main reason is that often memoirists are not as adept at using fiction technique as novelists. More specifically, in this particular article, writer Taylor Antrim proclaims that he views memoir writing as “cheating.”  The article mentions that he felt this even before the James Frey circus of events. He further explains that what he means by “cheating” is not necessarily an exaggeration of the truth, but that the stories sometimes contain blatant lies. He goes on to say that it’s not easy telling a good story without fibbing a bit, and it might be the author’s fabrications that bring a dramatic effect to an otherwise boring life.

As a memoirist first, and a fiction writer second, it is my natural instinct to defend my genre. Memoir is what it is and frankly I’m tired of people comparing it to fiction. It is a completely different genre with its own voice and rhythm. Did you ever hear of people comparing poetry to fiction?

The seasoned memoirist typically incorporates fiction techniques and if in fact, this makes the story appear fragmentary, then so be it. It seems that the writer is ‘damned if they do and damned if they don’t.’ If they use too much fiction technique and bend the truth, like Frey, they are considered ‘liars,’ if they leave out parts of the story because they don’t remember them, they are called ‘fragmentary writers.’

 So let’s just accept memoir for what it is and respect the writer who chooses memoir over fiction as someone who has courage and guts to write a memoir without hiding behind the veil of fiction. If you don’t like reading the form, then don’t read it and stop complaining. Of course, there’s good writing and poor writing; there are good memoirs and bad memoirs; there are good novel and bad novels. I believe that if someone is a good writer, it doesn’t matter what genre he or she writes in.

In comparing the genres, Antrim shares examples of autobiographic fiction, such as Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, Maple Stories by John Updike and The View from Castle Rock by Alice Munro. Then there’s another genre which has been frequently used, called, the autobiographical novel, examples of which include, On the Road by John Kerouac, Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway, Night by Elie Weisel, Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence and Childhood by Leo Tolstoy. I see two primary reasons for writing an autobiographical novel instead of a memoir —if you’ve forgotten certain events and/or if you want to protect the privacy of loved ones (or enemies).

Another part of me asks “Who cares what the genre is and why are people so intent on labeling?” Perhaps the most important reason for genre-labeling is that bookstore sellers will know where to shelve the book in their stores. In fact, the first question an agent or publisher will ask the writer is, “Where do you see this book in the book store?” Glancing ahead into the future and the inevitable demise of bookstores, I wonder if the genre line will become even more blurred. In many ways, I think it will  be a good thing if it does.

Note to fiction writers: You should know that most of  my writing colleagues are fiction writers and you should not take this blog wrong– it’s just how I feel today, but you know that I love you all and still want to hear what you have to say about this very controversial subject.