Divinest Sense

I’ve enrolled in a class on Life Stories taught by writer and information designer Thom Haller. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself, and I’m just beginning to write in a way that I’ve wanted to for so long–but didn’t know quite how.

Granted, my “life story” is not nearly as interesting as that of some of the other people in the class. One woman recounted the story of a journey from India to London in a 1964 Chevy, two months on the road traversing such remote locations as the Khyber Pass, all because her father refused to pay the duty for shipping the car. Another woman was a speed-skier like her father (who was also an air traffic controller and a stunt pilot) and now helps negotiate truces in war-torn locales around the world. Another found a world of magic and symbolism in Belize, where she survived a machete attack and went on to forge a close but complicated relationship with the family who came to her rescue.

I loved all of these stories. I think a common thread running through them was the notion of “other”-ness and how unexpected interactions with the unfamiliar change who we are. My story has that theme too, but not on such a grand scale. I’m writing about my experiences quitting school and living with hippies in the Finger Lakes region while working at a police department. Two worlds that were dramatically different on the surface, but fundamentally very similar.
My classmates’ stories generally had optimism at their core, and the exhilarating sense of freedom that comes from broadening one’s horizons. But there exists a darker side of the interaction with the foreign. In our search for life-changing experiences, we tend to forget that our interaction changes the lives of the “others” too, and not always for the better.

When you’re writing a memoir, it’s important to firmly establish the “I” and write her unique perception of the scenes and events. You can’t be omniscient. I think a big writing challenge will be writing from my own memory with the voice of someone who’s flawed and unreliable as a narrator, and somehow conveying the effect that “my” words and actions have on other people in the story, without making assumptions about what they are thinking.

This life story writing is really hard. But also kind of easy. I’m not a compelling nonfiction writer. I’m definitely not a good speaker or verbal storyteller. It’s so hard to get the right words to come out! But in yesterday’s class, Thom gave us ten minutes to write a short scene from our story, and as soon as my pen hit the paper, it just came flying out. Pretty rough, needs some editorial trimming and sharper detail, but a half-decent start - and it was just there, waiting for its cue to come into being.

I haven’t written creatively (and yes, memoir is a form of creative writing) in many years. Blog writing doesn’t count, because it’s like journalism, which is boring and predictable (when I do it) no matter what the subject matter. I’m looking forward to exercising these muscles some more.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 31st, 2007 at 5:36 pm and is filed under Art and Culture. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.