Skip to main content

Reading and Writing Memoir

Breakfast Teapot

 "If you read good books, when you write, good books will come out of you."

 -Natalie Goldberg

This is my year of memoir. Not only getting serious about writing it, but also reading it. When I look over my reading journal, it tells me that so far, I've read ten books from the genre. 

I tend to read memoir over breakfast. My husband drives my daughter to school and it is one of the only times during these pandemic days that I am home alone. I set a place at my large, wooden farm table; a cup of tea (almost always English Breakfast with milk and sugar) and cinnamon toast (almost always with homemade bread and creamy, salty Irish butter).

I keep a stack of memoirs on the far corner of the table, they are easy to reach for in the morning. I know, if I have to go searching for the book, I won't read it.

As I have become more and more interested in writing memoir, my book choices widen. I find myself looking for different writing styles and book structures. Some I have hated, some I have loved. I make mental notes for my own future book structure.

In the Dream House by Carmen Machado made me rethink structure. The book is an ode to fragmentation and the techniques of the Oulipo. In her disturbing memoir, Machado tells us, "telling stories in just one way misses the point of stories". I found the reading experience unfamiliar and uncomfortable, yet it perfectly illustrated Machado's story of an abusive relationship.

As much as In the Dream House's structure, made me uneasy, Textbook by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, delighted me. Her literal connection with the reader, through requests for you to actually text her, made me feel as though she was a friend, someone who I wanted in my life. She so successfully mastered that connection that, when I discovered that she had died in 2017 at the tender age of 51 (the same age I am as I write this), I cried.

And speaking of crying...Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner, taught me the importance of telling your story around a tight theme. Her memoir is a grief memoir, centered around the illness and death of her mother and how Zauner healed by connecting with Korean-American heritage through food. Her style of storytelling was the embodiment of Marion Roach's memoir writing advice telling us that a memoir writer must always remember that "every page must drive one single story forward". In the case of this book, Zauner's single story is about grief and healing and it inspired me to find my one single story to tell.

What have you been reading lately that inspires you? I'd love to hear about a book (memoir or not) that inspired you to explore your creative practice differently. 

 



Comments

  1. I admire so much your dedication to reading and writing memoir. I am always impressed by memoir writers. It feels like such a delicate form of expression, both in how exposed it makes the writer to their true self and how it impresses upon the reader to expose their true self.

    As for me I've been reading a great deal of history based on Britain's War of the Roses. I just finished a book on the Woodvilles, a prominent family during that time period who are usually vilified. This author, however, wrote a very solid and well researched history that takes them out of the realm of villain and puts them in perspective to what is happening around them.

    This of course has gotten me reading my Shakespeare again. I hadn't realized how much I enjoyed the Tragedy of Richard II and Henry IV, but has also made me realize how very much I dislike Henry V.

    One day I might try to write a story set during that time period, but I hardly feel capable of doing so currently.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I listen to audiobooks while I sew. I feel a little of the book's energy, as well as mine, goes into the project. So I tend to listen to sassy, lighthearted books when stitching for a great niece (Janet Evanovich). Or, a murder mystery for a computer programmer nephew (M.C. Beaton). I used to enjoy Russian novels & still have many paperbacks (all I could afford) on my shelves . They haven't been opened in years. Maybe it's time to see what they inspire!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What Lies Beneath

  Since I last wrote about my garden , a lot has happened. And a lot hasn’t happened. We went from a wet spring to a few sparse weeks of beautiful summer weather, and then roared into blistering heat. My garden, unable to contend with Mother Nature’s mood swings, had suffered. Between heat waves, I would wander into my garden and, instead of looking to see what was growing, I looked for destruction. Which crop failed this week? The beds, usually lush and beautiful, have big bare spots where the vegetables failed to grow. Our potato plants, which seemed to be the only crop that survived the wet spring, had dried and brown foliage, leaving me to wonder if my Irish blood somehow invited blight. While the garden withered so did we. Heat, illness, and general malaise made us wither almost as much as our garden. In the midst of this ennui, my husband and I trudged out to face our wilting, seemingly dead garden, ready to pull the dead plants, and to grieve over the failed plot. ...

Fridays Are For Art

Those of you who have been with me since the beginning, the ones who have watched me go from mixed media art to craft design to watercolor to embroidery, may wonder if I have abandoned all visual art. I haven’t. I just stopped sharing it.  At first, my lack of sharing came from a place of hurt and vulnerability. All those years I spent trying to make a business from my visual art came to nothing. Although I wrote bravely about closing Laura Bray Designs, it felt like a profound and humbling blow. My creativity teetered. Then something amazing happened. I began to create just for the sake of creating. Now I sit down at least once a week and make art just for pure pleasure. There is no wondering if it will sell. There is no rushing because I need to put something pretty to look at on my Instagram feed. I just create. I make mistakes. A lot of mistakes. I create the same thing repeatedly until I land in a place of complete originality. This is easier now that I am no longer...

How to Stay Friends without Social Media

How do you stay in touch with people once you leave social media? This one of the main concerns I hear from people when they find out that I’ve quit social media. To be truthful, you will fall out of touch with some people. But you know, that’s not always a bad thing. At least it wasn’t for me. According to anthropologist Robin Dunbar, the number of people humans can sustain relationships with is 150. He based this number (called Dunbar’s Number ) on the size of the human brain. The thesis is that primates are wired to be in group sizes that will assist with survival. While there are arguments about the validity of this theory, I know I feel stressed-out when I have too many relationships going on and not enough time to nurture them.   Being a good wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend is very important to me. It brings me joy to take care of the people I love. I cook for them, check-in on them regularly, and give them my focused attention when I am with them. But I mus...

Leaving Social Media

I took my first social media detox in November 2018. I decided to take a break for 30 days. It felt amazing and I learned a lot about myself and my use of social media. I returned to social media, as planned, determined to take the lessons I learned from the detox to mindfully interact with Facebook and Instagram. I had the very best intentions. By May 2019, all my good intentions were forgotten and I found I was back to a place where social media was affecting me negatively . I promised myself that I would get back on track. (You know where this is going, right?) Before long, I was back to what I perceived as an unhealthy relationship with Instagram and Facebook. Something needed to change. The pandemic hit. I used it as an excuse to stay 'connected'. Instead of feeling connected, I watched in horror as people tore each other apart online, saying things they would never to say to one another if they were face to face.  In September 2020, I deleted my business page and told my...

Sketchbook Musings

       I sometimes wonder what my grandchildren will think if they flip through my sketchbooks?       When they pick-up my Botanical Wonder Sketchbook will they see that I was an avid gardener, deeply in love with nature? Will they marvel at my account of almanac-like posts and see a personal account of climate change?      When they flip through my Recipe Sketchbooks, they will see the Ambrosia recipe I wrote down and illustrated, based on my great-grandmother's recipe. Will they be inspired by notes on our family tradition Taco Nights? Or maybe they will already have Taco Nights and realize where the tradition started.      When they look at my Artist Sketchbooks, they will see that I designed a line of rubber stamps, based on my love of tea and gardens, and notes for some of my embroidery designs. Will they be inspired to learn how to embroider or explore their own creativity?      When they look at...

Ghosts of Christmas Past

One of the best Christmas gifts I ever received was a Sindy doll’s dining set from my father’s sister, my Aunt Kathy. Aunt Kathy always bought my sisters and I the best presents. She had three boys and I think she relished the chance to hit the girl’s section of the toy store. Many of my most beloved gifts were from Aunt Kathy. I mean, she’s the one who bought me The Barbie Beauty Center Styling Head too. Oh, I can still smell it-the plastic, sweet smell. I remember the way the powdery, blue eye shadow glided onto Barbie’s perfect eyelids, smooth as silk. And how her hair, always satin blonde, immediately became tangled, never to be like new again. But back to Sindy’s dining room set. A creamy, French provincial style. It was made for Sindy dolls but at my house, Barbie took it over. Barbie was kind of priviledged and tended to think the world revolved around her so she often furnished her life from the spoils she stole from other dolls. She took my Jody doll’s dog and, worse,...

Roasted Tomatoes and An Empty Nest

          We are in the sunset days of child-rearing. Our daughter is now a busy senior in high school, with a part-time job and driver’s license. Often, there is one less face at the table, one last voice to talk about the day.      Our meals are simpler now as we no longer have to prepare healthy meals to fill a growing body. As my husband and I sit alone at the table we realize our work now is to reconnect with another, make our way back to each other. Back to the days before daughter came into our lives and the hours of our days were filled with feeding and nurturing her.      Now we turn towards nursing our aging bodies which, as it turns out, need much less food than growing bodies. We are moving away from large meals. Often, I place simple meals on the dinner table along with small glasses of wine to remind us that now we can fully sink back into the early days of our marriage.      Only it isn’t l...

This is a Dress

  This is a dress that was bought in a 1980s, Gunne Sax outlet that was tucked into a rundown strip mall in downtown Montclair, California. A store where the dressing room was one, big open room and my 15-year-old self thought she might die of embarrassment undressing in front of other women. This is a dress that was worn to one or two of the six formals I went to in high school. On the arm of boys named Tom and Jeff. Boys I dreamed of making a life with one day. Boys I am so glad I didn’t marry. Boys that were kind and handsome and sometimes thoughtless and hurtful. Boys that put up with the same from me. This is a dress that danced to the music of The Cure and Depeche Mode . In gyms that reeked of sweat, hormones, Obsession perfume, and Polo cologne. A dress that rustled when I walked and felt smooth under the tentative hands of teenage boys as they held me during slow dances. A dress that made my girlfriends squeal in delight, as I did the same for them and their dresses. ...

Summer

   I don’t know when I began to hate summer. When I was a child, I looked forward to it all year. My childhood summers, spent in Ohio, near Lake Erie, were filled with long, hot, humid days, playing in our yard with the neighborhood kids, and going to Headlands Beach. Our evenings were spent hunting fireflies, sleeping with windows open, hoping for a cool breeze. A week at my grandparents, and family vacations to dreamy seaside towns on Cape Cod were something to look forward to. Summers, back then, were made of the stuff that you read about in coming-of-age novels like Thimble Summer . When I was 12, we moved to Southern California. I don’t think my hatred of summer began then. Our summers simply took on a new rhythm. They were, overall, still the stuff of storybooks. We had a swimming pool in our backyard and spent hours bobbing around in the water and driving the neighbors crazy with countless games of Marco Polo . My best friend and I would play in her parent’s camper, ...

Tuesdays are for Writing

I was thinking about how much I enjoy reading about other people’s days. Do you? I hope so, because I’m going to share some of my days with you over the next few weeks. We’ll start with Tuesdays since they are my favorite day of the week. I set Tuesdays aside to write most of the day. No loads of laundry. No errands. Morning The day starts like all my days lately. I wake up at 7:00am. My husband brings me a coffee in bed while a journal for 30 minutes. I recently started setting a timer for my morning journaling because I could spend hours going round and round on the page, ruminating. By setting a timer, I get what I need to release out, but don’t circle down the drain. After that, I get up and immediately go and exercise for 20 minutes. Right now, I’m loving Pahla B’s workouts. They are quick and meant to be for 50+ women. After the workout, I do a 10-minute mediation and am ready to start to my day. I dress and shower and then head to breakfast. Breakfast is the only meal I...