On Avoiding Adverbs: I Disagree

wtm adverbsMany contemporary writing teachers will tell you to completely avoid using adverbs.

I disagree.  I think adverbs can be a beautiful, seamless part of prose — if they’re used well and sparingly.

In case you’ve forgotten since grammar school, an adverb is a word which modifies a verb, an adjective, or another adverb (as in very quickly).  Typically adverbs end in “ly”, like these:

I walked quickly.

He spoke sluggishly.

She laughed heartily.

Using an adverb once in a while is not a crime.  However, I think adverbs have earned a bad rap because too many writers overuse them.

Let me show you two versions of the same paragraph – one using adverbs judiciously, the other going way overboard.  Decide which is more enjoyable to read:

Version #1:

She laughed heartily at my joke.  I felt flattered.  Then she walked slowly out from behind her desk and approached me slyly. 

“I suppose I misjudged you,” she smiled, still twirling her eyeglasses playfully in one hand.  “You might be just the man for the job.”

I was sweating profusely, and my socks were clinging damply to my feet like dirty dishtowels.  Would she notice I wasn’t behaving professionally?

 

 Version #2:

Her laugh was hearty.  I felt flattered.  She sauntered out from behind her desk and approached, the portrait of sly confidence. 

“I suppose I misjudged you,” she smiled.  In one hand she played with her eyeglasses – twirling, twirling, twirling.  “You might be just the man for the job.”

The sweat poured from my scalp and down the back of my neck.  My socks were two damp dishtowels, clinging to my feet.  Would she notice I wasn’t a pro?

 

In version #1, we have adverbs gone wild: heartily, slowly, slyly, playfully, profusely, damply, professionally.

Now let’s look at version #2.  What changed?  Compare:

Version #1 Version #2
She laughed heartily at my joke.

 

Her laugh was hearty.
The she walked slowly out from behind her desk and approached me slyly. She sauntered out from behind her desk and approached, the portrait of sly confidence.

 

“I suppose I misjudged you,” she smiled, still twirling her eyeglasses playfully in one hand.  “You might be just the man for the job.”

 

“I suppose I misjudged you,” she smiled.  In one hand she played with her eyeglasses – twirling, twirling, twirling.  “You might be just the man for the job.”

 

I was sweating profusely, and my socks were clinging damply to my feet like dirty dishtowels. The sweat poured from my scalp and down the back of my neck.  My socks were two damp dishtowels, clinging to my feet.

 

Would she notice I wasn’t behaving professionally? Would she notice I wasn’t a pro?

What I want you to see is that there are alternatives to using “ly” adverbs. 

When you get to the editing stage of your memoir, scan your manuscript for excessive adverbs.  Where you see them happening too often, find a different way of saying the same thing.  Use the above table to get you into a creative mindset.

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone. 

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011). 

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Fast and Furious First Drafts

wtm first draftsIf you want to write that memoir before you die, I suggest you get comfortable with writing a rushed, crappy, bull-in-a-china-shop mess of a first draft.

Yeah, you read right.  Rushed.  Crappy.  A mess.

You need to write a first draft that’s a technical embarrassment.  Write a first draft that frequently makes no sense.  Let it be pure manure on a stick – and love it that way.

Your first draft should be written quickly and sloppily.  Sure, it’s O.K. if you forget something important.  Heck yeah, go ahead and use a word that doesn’t really exist.  Don’t know what name you’re going to use to disguise your best friend’s identity?  Forget about it.  Call her anything.  Call her a different name on every page, if you want.

There’s no rule that says you have to write your first draft with a computer, either.  Want to write it by hand, with a purple felt-tip pen and legal pads?  Be my guest.  Want to use your dad’s vintage typewriter?  Cool, as long as you can still get the ribbons for it.  You can write some of your first draft on your computer, and some on paper.  What matters is that you feel comfortable and motivated throughout the process.

Why is this all okay?  Because your first draft is not going to be your final book.  You’ll have plenty of opportunity to fix, change, delete or add anything you want.  That’s what drafts are for.

Wait – I just heard somebody out there thinking, “Yeah, but I want to get this memoir done.  So I’m going to write the most perfect first draft possible, so I’ll only need to make a few small changes afterward.  That way I’ll get it published a lot sooner.  Let the suckers waste time on multiple drafts.”

Fine.  Have it your way.  But a year from now, you’ll either still be sitting on an unfinished memoir and thinking, “I’m just not cut out for writing a whole book”, or you’ll have a completed memoir that people are too polite to tell you stinks.

I promise: you will actually work better – faster, more efficiently – if you start from a hastily-written, thoroughly imperfect first draft.

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone. 

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011). 

Writing Dialogue in Your Memoir: Human or Robot?

humanorrobotIn a memoir, you’re writing about real people.  They should talk like real people, too. But not…exactly like real people.

Yeah, it can be tricky. But it’s not impossible.

Let me show you two different examples of dialogue, and then we’ll talk about what’s not-quite-right about them.

Example #1:

“Hello. You have reached Johnson’s Department Store.  How may I help you?”

I didn’t expect anyone to answer the phone so early.  “Hello,” I said, “My name is Marvin Miles. I am calling you this morning with a question.  I would like to speak with someone in the toy department.  Would you please connect me with the toy department?”

“Yes, I will,” the woman replied.  “Would you please hold on for a moment?”

“Yes, I will hold,” I said.

Next, a man came on the line.  “This is the toy department.  My name is Bill.  How many I help you, please?”

“Hello.  I am calling with a question about a toy.”

“Yes, sir.  What is your question?”

“I would like to know if you have a jump rope for sale which glows in the dark.  I would also like the jump rope to have yellow handles.  The handles must also be made of wood.  Do you have a jump rope like the one I am describing?”

The man thought for a moment.  “I do not know if we have a jump rope like that.  Would you please hold the line?  I will go and check our jump rope stock for you.”

Sounds like two computers talking, right?  I mean, who talks like that?  It’s possible somebody does, but you wouldn’t exactly think they were…well, normal, would you? That’s some pretty unnatural, stilted-sounding dialogue!  And tough to read, too.

Example #2:

“I can’t believe he said…oh my god, what he said!  He said…he said she was, like, the – what did he say again?  Oh my god, like she was the worst boss he ever had!  The worst boss.  The worst boss, Britt, the worst boss.  You know?”

Brittany tossed her hair back. “No way I can’t even, I mean I can’t even!  You know, I’m just thinking, like, that’s um, so harsh.  Uh…wait, do you know if he—“

“Oh my god Britt, wait, didn’t you say you wanted a milkshake before?”  I noticed the milkshake stand out of the corner of my eye.

“Totally!” Brittany’s eyes lit up.  “Chocolate for me, chocolate for me!  Oh, like, of course!  Of course, red light when we’re about to cross the street.  I’m desperate, here!  Desperate, you know?”

“Desperate for milkshakes!” I agreed.

“Desperate for milkshakes!” Brittany repeated. 

“Is there, like, one of those, um…you know…those button thingies you can push to make the traffic light turn green, or something?”

Brittany looked around.  “On my god, is it like that thingy on the, um, the pole over there?”

“Where?”

“There,” Brittany pointed.

“That’s the thingy!  That’s the thingy!  There is a thingy to change the light!  Hurry up, push it, push it.”

Just then the light changed and we proceeded across the street.

“So what were we talking about…?  Oh, yeah!  I’m just, ugh!  Can’t believe it!  Is he going to be fired now, or like put on whatchamacallit, probation?”

Wasn’t that annoying to read?

We really don’t want to read dialogue exactly as people speak it.  Real people stumble over their words, they hesitate, they wander in conversation, they say “uh” and “um” and “like” and “you know”, repeatedly.

In fact, if you had someone transcribe every audible conversation you have, precisely, you might find your own words difficult to follow on paper.  Authentic conversations that feel easy and understandable in the real world can seem downright unintelligible when written word-for-word.

So, as writers, we want to strive for dialogue that is a representation of real conversation.  It should feel authentic, but “cleaned up” – just enough so that it isn’t a chore to read.

humanorrobot2That said, I’m going to risk confusing you a little here.  Because “uh” and “um” and “like” and “you know” have their place in good writing, too.

The example I gave above was purposely over-the-top.  But remember, we also don’t want to clean up our dialogue so much that it sounds computerized.  The key to realistic dialogue falls somewhere between the two extremes.

I found a passage from Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs that offers a great example of a casual conversation between two people.  It’s not necessarily correct, concise English, but it is how real people interact.

For example, one line of dialogue includes the informal use of “like”: “…you were like this tall.”

There are sentence fragments, including this two-word line of dialogue, “A little.” 

In this sentence fragment, we see the conversational use of “you know:” “Yeah, well.  You know, now that…”

The key is to strike a balance between realism and readability.

When writing about real-life conversations in your memoir, remember that it’s unnecessary to convey every exchange word-for-word. In fact, doing so can make your writing painful to read.

Try sharing your dialogue with a friend — preferably an avid reader. Ask them:

  • What bores you about this conversation?
  • What annoys you?
  • What parts of the conversation did you most enjoy?
  • If you were going to cross out any words, phrases or lines from this conversation, what would they be?
  • What did this conversation tell you about the characters?
  • What did you learn about the story from this conversation?

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone. 

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011). 

A Major Blind Spot for Memoir Writers: Are You Guilty?

blindspot1It’s a mistake that’s so darn easy for memoir writers make: we assume our reader knows what (or who) we know.

We know the people and subjects about which we’re writing so intimately that we might leave out important details that our reader needs to follow along.

For example, we might write that we went to dinner with Thomas, but failed to tell the reader who Thomas is.  Maybe we wrote a paragraph introducing Thomas in an earlier draft, but that passage was cut.  Somehow, we’ll have to find a way of letting our reader meet him again.

As memoirists, we need to make sure everyone gets a formal introduction.  Otherwise, our reader may be sitting there with our book, saying, “Wait – who the heck is Thomas?”

A writer who’s been engaged in a particular career, hobby or other activity for years needs to be especially mindful of being too vague.  Have you ever met someone who, in ordinary conversation, threw out technical jargon and other terminology with which you were unfamiliar?  It might be like going to dinner with a world-class chef and hearing him use culinary terms that many of us wouldn’t use in describing food.  For him, talking about the umami quality of a sauce, or dropping phrases like bain marie or à la Crécy is perfectly normal.  To someone who doesn’t cook at all, those terms are completely alien.

blindspot3Years ago in a college creative writing class, we students read an excerpt from a fellow student’s memoir.  She was older than the rest of us by at least thirty years.  She wrote about participating in a civil rights march – a lesser-known march, one that took place in the small town where she grew up.

In her story, she dropped names of people, places and events that were unfamiliar to me, my classmates, and even our instructor.  (None of us had even been born by the time this march took place, and it wasn’t significant enough to make it into a mainstream public school education.)

The student acted shocked when the rest of the class confessed to being confused by her story.  There was so much background information that we needed to know in order to follow her tale – information that she failed to give us.

If we’d been told a few simple facts about the people involved, and some background leading up to events, we would’ve understood what we were reading.  But somehow, this student forgot that the rest of us did not live in her head.  We didn’t have automatic recall of the events she’d witnessed.  She failed to paint a complete enough picture.

When writing your memoir, remember that we, your readers, weren’t there with you – we only know as much as you choose to tell us.  Make sure you tell us enough so that your story makes sense. There are two effective ways of doing this:

blindspot2Have someone else read your memoir.

Once you’ve finished your first draft, give a copy to at least one friend you trust.  Have her read it and make notes about anything she doesn’t understand.  Make sure she knows you’re not asking for feedback on spelling or grammar – just on the clarity of the story you’re telling.

You’ll know you have some revising to do if:

 

  1. She has tons of questions. This might mean you left out key information, or that you need to elaborate.

 

  1. She gets confused. You might need to focus parts of your work more tightly, or add or subtract details.

 

  1. You ask her to summarize all or part of the book, and she can’t. You might have bored her, in which case maybe you didn’t use enough detailed description.  Alternatively, maybe she gives you the wrong answer.  Maybe you’ve written a memoir about raising alpacas, and she tells you, “Obviously, this is a book about divorce.”  You might be writing too much about the wrong things.  Or, maybe you should be writing about divorce.

 

Read your memoir as if you’re a stranger.

When you’ve finished your first draft, try reading it through from beginning to end, imagining you’re someone else. Read it through the eyes of someone who has never heard your stories before, has never met you. Does everything make sense?  Then, read it again – out loud.  You might be surprised by how much you missed.

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone. 

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011). 

 

Does Your Memoir Have WAY Too Many Characters?

wtmcharacters1In your life to date, you’ve likely encountered thousands of people.  Maybe hundreds of thousands.  The kids down the block you pummeled in snowball fights.  Your teachers.  Co-workers. The guy who used to cut your lawn.  The lady who delivered your pizzas in college.

You’ve crossed paths with a lot of people when you think about it, especially if you’ve lived in more than one place.

Do you plan on mentioning every single one of those people in your memoir?

Of course not.

But who you leave out is worth discussing, because many first-time memoirists fill their books with unnecessary people.

Character Clutter

I like to call it “character clutter.”  Too many characters can be distracting and confusing.

When the narrator of a story takes the time to name a character, or at least provide memorable details about him, your subconscious takes note.  Somewhere in your brain, you’re thinking, “I need to pay attention to this person, because he’s going to come into play in this story, sooner or later.  If he didn’t, then the author wouldn’t have mentioned him.”

Read this example of a character being introduced in a memoir.  It’s from The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid: A Memoir by Bill Bryson:

In the late 1950s, the Royal Canadian Air Force produced a booklet on isometrics, a form of exercise that enjoyed a short but devoted vogue with my father.  The idea of isometrics was that you used any unyielding object, like a tree or a wall, and pressed against it with all your might from various positions to tone and strengthen different groups of muscles.  Since everybody already has access to trees and walls, you didn’t need to invest in a lot of costly equipment, which I expect was what attracted my dad.

What made it unfortunate in my father’s case is that he would do his isometrics on airplanes.  At some point in every flight, he would stroll back to the galley area or the space by the emergency exit and, taking up the posture of someone trying to budge a very heavy piece of machinery, he would begin to push with his back or shoulder against the outer wall of the plane, pausing occasionally to take deep breaths before returning with quiet grunts to the task.

Now, imagine you’ve finished reading that entire book, and the character of the author’s father never shows up again.

That would be weird, wouldn’t it?  You might close the book and feel uneasy for a minute before you say, “Hey, wait a minute – what happened to the dad with the isometrics obsession?”

When an author takes the time to introduce a character, the reader expects that character to play some important role.  It doesn’t mean the character will appear on every page, but we know we’ll see him again, or we’ll at least see the effects of something he did off the page.

That’s why it’s important to keep your cast of characters “lean.”

wtmcharacters2Why Go Lean?

Just because you have ten brothers and sisters doesn’t mean you have to bring every single sibling into your memoir.  That might be tough on the reader – too many distinct people to keep up with.

However, there’s a good chance that not every one of your siblings plays a major role in the stories you’re telling.  In life, people in big families usually develop closer relationships with one or two siblings in particular.  If that’s true for you, there’s no reason you have to tell us what every child in the family was doing during every story you tell.  Focus on the people who were directly involved in each tale.

Sometimes it makes sense to exclude a person from a story, or even an entire book.  You might be tempted to write them in for the sake of accuracy.  After all, aren’t you supposed to be telling it as it really happened?  Telling the truth?

Yes.  But you’re not writing an article for the newspaper — you’re writing a memoir.  A memoir calls for good storytelling, even if the stories are true.  And good storytelling sometimes calls for leaving things out.

Combining Characters

Another way to deal with “character clutter” in a memoir is to combine characters.

Suppose you’re writing a memoir about the years you spent writing copy for large advertising agencies.  Imagine that your career spanned at least five decades.  That’s a lot of years on the job, and certainly you worked with a lot of different people in that time.

wtmcharacters3And suppose that early in your memoir, you mention some casual conversations between you and your first office mate – a guy named Harvey.

But then suppose Harvey was only your co-worker for a short time before he moved to New Zealand.  A new person took his place – a guy named Ted.

And you and Ted became pals, much like you and Harvey were pals.  But let’s say Ted was your office mate for only 18 months before he got shipped off to a facility upstate to “get some rest”.

Six more friendly office mates followed before you eventually earned your own office.

Maybe only one or two of those office mates played a truly significant role in your life – the others, not so much.  Are you going to take up space in your memoir naming every single office mate, details of their lives, why they came and went?

That might be a mistake.  It could amount to character clutter, distracting the reader from what’s key to your story.

That’s not to say you can’t relate different conversations you had with these minor players.  You might tell an anecdote here or there about what happened to them.

Instead of giving significant space in your memoir to so many insignificant characters, you might consider combining those office mates into one or two characters.  This is sometimes referred to as creating a “composite” character.  Maybe one represents your office mate at your first job, and the other represents the office mate at the second firm you worked for.

We don’t need to know that, technically, you had three different office mates at your first job.  What we really need to know is that you had an office mate you could confide in – someone who made your days easier, maybe provided some much-needed comic relief.  So provide us with that character.

This technique can work well in party scenes (do we really need to be introduced to every guest at your wedding, or will one rowdy uncle representing most of your mother’s side of the family suffice?), and in simplifying childhood friendships (if Mindy, Lindsay and Coco were your best girlfriends over the years, can they be combined into one girl who worshipped Paul McCartney and collected S&H Green Stamps?).

Please note that the memoir police will not come after you for combining characters.  This, like changing names, is commonly done.  In most cases, it makes for better, cleaner writing.   Don’t fret because in your memoir, you gave yourself two fewer nieces than you really have, when Alice is the only one you really talk to anyway.  There’s no law against saying you worked for a personal injury attorney instead of a maritime law practitioner.  These are common and valid ways of tweaking reality to either protect someone’s privacy or create a smoother read.

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone. 

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011). 

Who Cares About Your Life Story? Why the Scope of the Memoir You’re Writing Matters

wtmrnnarrow1I’m going to take the risk of sounding like a jerk.  But I’m not trying to discourage you from writing.  On the contrary, I want you to take the smartest possible approach to writing your memoir – the one most likely to fulfill your personal goals.  So hang in there with me and see if what I have to say makes sense.

Consider for a minute that there are billions of people in the world.  And most people think their own lives are pretty darn interesting.  It’s human nature.  We’re all biased that way.

And most people like to read.  But people also have limited time and energy.  Few people – if any – will read every book ever written.  We’re selective about what we read.  We choose what we expect to enjoy the most.

So if a reader is going to choose to read a broad, chronological account of someone else’s life, chances are, they’ll pick up an autobiography about someone they’ve heard of before.  A celebrity.  An actor, chef, politician.  Maybe the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company that’s a household name.

The average person doesn’t know why they should care about your life – the house you grew up in, your favorite teacher, your crazy college days, your first career, your second career, your first marriage, your third divorce.  To most people on the planet, you’re a stranger.

But remember, a memoir is different from an autobiography.  It represents a small portion of a person’s life.  A particular period of time, a challenge overcome, a lesson learned.

If you want your memoir to be read by lots of other people who don’t already know you, you’ll have the best chance if you write a memoir and not an autobiography.  Narrow your focus and you’ll broaden your appeal.

summerattiffanyAn Example of Focus in Memoir

For example, you might decide to write an entire memoir about one summer of your life, like Marjorie Hart did in Summer at Tiffany.

As an Iowa college student in 1945, Hart took a summer job at Tiffany’s in New York City and passed the sweltering months going out on the town with handsome young sailors and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous.  Yes, she filled an entire book with tales from one summer of her life – and it’s delightful.  It also attracted many readers among people the author never met.

Why did a memoir about one summer have more appeal than a book about Marjorie Hart’s entire life, from birth to the present?

The audience for a Hart autobiography would be rather small, consisting of her family members and close friends.  They’re the people who love her; they have the most interest in reading about her whole life.

But when Hart went into detail about her whirlwind summer in the big city, she touched on thoughts, feelings and experiences that many readers could relate to.  That’s a memoir.

A Narrower Focus Gives You Freedom!

Here’s how narrowing the focus of your book can actually give you more freedom.  The idea might seem limiting at first, but think of all the details you’ll have to skip over or rush through if you’re trying to cover all the major events of your life in one book.

Besides, your memoir might convey a lot more than just your story.  It might also be a valuable chronicle of history, detailing what it was like in a particular time and place.  Summer at Tiffany, for example, actually does double-duty.  Not only is it an entertaining read, but it also serves as an historical account of young women living and working in New York City in 1945.

wtmrnnarrow2When you focus on one aspect of your life, you can afford to take your time and richly convey details to your reader.  You can delve into your feelings in the moment, and share your insights after the fact.  And when you recall your experiences through all five senses, you deliver a product that resonates with the reader and is not soon forgotten.  These are the kinds of books people want to tell their friends about.

So, in short, you can’t expect legions of perfect strangers to care about your life, from soup to nuts.  But you’ll increase your chances of capturing the interest of strangers with a more specific story, lesson, or message.

Another Good Example

Here’s another example.  We already know that Joe Schmoe doesn’t have a great chance of selling his entire life story to a bunch of readers who’ve never heard of him, and are too busy to care.  But what if Joe Schmoe was diagnosed with a rare, fatal disease – a disease that no one survives for more than a few months – and he defied that illness to live a robust thirty years, post-diagnosis?

Joe has a great story to tell.  Joe’s memoir won’t spend much time on his childhood (unless he was diagnosed as a child).  He won’t talk much about his years following the Grateful Dead on tour (unless it relates somehow to his disease – maybe the fact that he was able to follow the band, despite doctors’ warnings that he wouldn’t have the energy).  Joe won’t write much about going to law school (except maybe to say that he withstood the pressure despite his disease).

wtmrnnarrow3Joe’s story now appeals to lots of people.  It appeals to people with his disease, and people who love someone with the same disease.  It appeals to anyone with a fatal illness looking for hope or encouragement.  It might appeal to doctors and scientists with an interest in disease.  It might appeal to anyone facing a great trial in life, looking for inspiration in a story of unlikely triumph.

Your Focus Doesn’t Have to Be Earth-Shattering

A memoir can be about more commonplace experiences, too.

Maybe Jane has a great sense of comedy and tells her friends hilarious stories about surviving her divorce.  Jane might have a humorous memoir in her – one that will appeal to millions of other women facing divorce.

Perhaps Anne-Marie had a long history of car trouble, and decided once and for all to become the master of her vehicle.  Maybe she spent three months taking automotive classes and was the only woman in a class of guys at least forty years younger than her.  And maybe Anne-Marie transformed in multiple ways through her experience – not only did she eventually build an engine from the ground up, but she found herself in a love triangle with two handsome young bucks.

That could be a memoir, too.

wtmrnnarrow4EXERCISE: Find Your Focus

So, if you’re going to narrow the focus of your book, how will you decide what the focus will be?

It can seem overwhelming.  But following are some questions you can ask yourself that may help you zero-in on the best idea for you.

  1. What is the most important lesson life has taught you?

 

  1. If you were going to leave a note for your grandchild to open on his or her 18th birthday, containing three key pieces of advice about life, what would you write?

 

  1. Do you ever look around at the greater population and think, “If only they knew what I know”? What do you want them to understand, and how did you come to understand it?

 

  1. Do you ever tell stories to groups of people that keep them riveted, or even make them laugh? Do you ever get requests to “tell that story again”?  What are your most popular stories, and why do you think people want to hear them?  Do most of these stories have something in common?

 

  1. Are you able to complete this sentence?: My life was never the same after ______.

 

  1. What are you an expert in?

 

  1. What was the single biggest turning point in your life?

 

  1. What’s the most unusual situation you ever found yourself in? How did you adjust to or cope with it?

 

  1. What’s your favorite memory? What about that memory is so special?  What about that memory do you think other people would relate to?

 

  1. How have you changed the most?

 

  1. How can your life experience help other people?

 

  1. Did you play a role in a major historical event? What was your role?  How did it affect your life afterward?

 

  1. What one thing are you most proud of in your life so far?

 

  1. What’s one thing most people have difficulty with, but that you were able to master?

 

  1. Did you ever say to yourself, “From now on, I’m living my life differently”? Did you stay true to your word?

 

  1. Most of us have moments when we sigh and say, “Ah, those were the good old days.” When were your good old days?  What’s the one event that, in your mind, defines those days as “good”?

 

  1. Did you achieve something that took immense patience and dedication? How did you get through it?

 

  1. Did you make it to the top of your profession? How did you get there?  What was it like when you finally got to the top?  Was it everything you thought it would be?

 

  1. Can you complete this sentence?: Most people would never believe this about me, but I ______.

 

  1. When have you completely surprised yourself?

 

If you’ve been thinking hard, chances are you’ve identified several areas of your life that could translate into separate memoirs.  If this is the case, don’t let it overwhelm you.  Don’t tell yourself, “I’ll never be able to choose one narrow focus!”  Here’s what I want you to remember: you can always write another memoir about another subject.  Remember that many authors have written several memoirs.  Look at Josh Kilmer-Purcell.  His first memoir, I Am Not Myself These Days, was about his days as a drag queen.  He’s also the author of The Bucolic Plague: How Two Manhattanites Became Gentlemen Farmers: An Unconventional Memoir.

If you’re having trouble choosing a focus, remember that your writing career doesn’t have to end with this one book.  Just decide which focus is calling to you most strongly right now.  Start there.  Write that memoir first.

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011). 

 

Don’t Write a Memoir for “Everybody” to Read

wtmrn2Are you planning on writing your memoir, hiding it in a locked drawer, and then burning it on your deathbed?  In that case, your memoir is definitely between you and you, and there’s no reason for you to read this article.

However, if you plan on letting anyone else read your finished memoir – whether it’s family members, or any stranger who happens to buy a copy – then this article is for you.

When you write a memoir (or anything else, for that matter), you’re writing to someone.  No, not in quite the same way you’d write a letter or an e-mail.  But there’s going to be someone on the other end of your message: your reader.

If you’re hoping to make a huge splash with your memoir, then you’ll obviously want your memoir to have many readers.  Those readers, collectively, are your audience.

Regardless of what you’re writing – whether it’s a magazine article, an academic essay, or a memoir —  it’s important to keep your readers in mind.

Write for a Specific Audience

There’s a good chance you’ve written for a specific audience before but didn’t realize it.

Here’s an example.  Say you’re on vacation in Mexico.  You promised postcards to everyone you know.  One day you’re reclining on a cushioned lounge beneath a grass umbrella, just ten feet from a gentle lick of turquoise surf.  You’re leaning your forearms on a book in your lap and shuffling a stack of glossy postcards.  You take the pen out from behind your ear and begin to write:

Dear Mom:

The resort is beautiful.  You’d love the lunch buffet.  It reminds me of the spread on your 60th birthday cruise. Weather has been perfect.  Miss you and can’t wait to see you.  I have a pretty souvenir for you!

Next, you choose a fresh card and begin scribbling a note to your best friend and former college roommate:

Hey Barfbag,

Too bad you’re missing this orgy of loose women and free-flowing booze, you loser.  Haven’t been sober since I landed!  See ya for Joe’s Superbowl party on the 12th.

And finally, you write that obligatory postcard to the office, which will inevitably be posted on the break room refrigerator for your boss and all to see:

Hi gang,

Enjoying a break in sunny Mexico.  Thanks to everyone who worked so hard on the Davis deal last month.  Hope you’re all enjoying those normal hours again!  Looking forward to sharing a box of spicy Mexican chocolate when I return. 

You wouldn’t write the same way – or mention all the same things – to everyone you wrote to.

It’s Your Tone

The tone you use in writing to your mother (affectionate, thoughtful) will be vastly different from the tone you use with your college buddy (informal, sarcastic).  That tone will change slightly again when you address your boss and co-workers (friendly, polite).

Likewise, you’ll choose different words to address different people.  For mom: “beautiful”, “perfect”, “pretty”.  For the best friend: “barfbag”, “orgy”, “loser”.  And finally, for the workplace: “enjoying”, “thanks”, “sharing”.

It’s What You Choose to Mention, Too.

Additionally, the content of your story will change to suit the reader.  Regardless of whom you speak to, you’re talking about the same trip to Mexico.  However, you’ll be selective about what you share about that experience, depending on whom you’re addressing.  You told your mom about things that would be important to her: “The resort is beautiful.” “You’d love the lunch buffet.”  “I miss you and can’t wait to see you.”  You leave out the part about the women and drinking.

But when it’s time to address your buddy, you don’t bother mentioning the weather or the lunch buffet – he wouldn’t care about that.  Instead, you mention “loose women” and “free-flowing booze,” plus the upcoming “Superbowl party on the 12th.

Your co-workers hear about “sunny Mexico,” and you promise to bring them some “spicy Mexican chocolate”.  You’re courteous and keep things professional.

That’s how you gear your writing toward a specific audience.

Why You Shouldn’t Write for “Everyone”

Now, if I ask you whom you want the audience for your memoir to be, you might say, “Everybody!  I want everyone in the world to buy my memoir.”  But that’s not going to happen.  You might sell your memoir to a lot of people – but who are they?  Or maybe more importantly, who do you want them to be?

When you write for an audience of “everyone”, you risk writing something dull, watered-down and uninteresting. Your writing will be more engaging if you write to a specific group of people. Knowing your audience has two big benefits.

First, it helps you write better.  Instead of writing a bland manuscript for “everyone,” you’ll feel freer to write in specifics.  Second, having a clear picture of your audience helps you develop a sales and marketing strategy.

Let me also make it clear that even if you have a specific audience in mind, that doesn’t mean someone outside of that audience won’t read and enjoy your book, but having a narrow focus in mind when you’re writing is crucial.

Decide ahead of time exactly to whom you’re writing.  You’ll write a better book.

At a reading/booksigning for Read My Hips at Barnes & Noble.

To get one-on-one help with your memoir, request a coaching session by phone

Kim Brittingham is the author of Write That Memoir Right Now (AudioGo/Blackstone, 2013) and Read My Hips: How I Learned to Love My Body, Ditch Dieting and Live Large (Random House, 2011).