How much to disclose or hide in memoir?

I do not regard my childhood pranks as creepy. Every now and then, a teacher will appear at my events and be critical of the pranks I played on my own teachers.

What would you rather have, I ask?

A kid like me playing harmless pranks or the kids of today, who come and shoot up the school?

That gives most pause for thought. The alternative to pranks like mine is letting frustration build up until something worse results.

Let me add something else . . . .

For many years I thought my past was a shameful secret to be hidden. When my brother wrote Running With Scissors I saw an outpouring of acceptance which gave me courage to tell my own story.

I actually talk about that in an interview on Visual Thesaurus and the Backstory blog, here:
http://www.visualthesaurus.com/cm/backstory/1247/

I heard an interview with an author/memoirist (don't remember who, but it he was funny) who said his editor told him to skip the victories; if it makes you cringe, it makes readers buy books.

I also read a quote from an author (I really ought to pay attention to who these people are, but again, I don't know. It was someone recently profiled on The Writer's Almanac.) who couldn't write that stuff about his past until he invented a character based on himself. Then, he said, it all flowed out.

johnrobison said:

The alternative to pranks like mine is letting frustration build up until something worse results.

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Actually, I think a better alternative is giving kids constructive ways to express themselves. Pranks are certainly better than violence, but cool projects are better than pranks.

My thought about the pranks you described in your book wasn't "Ew, how creepy" but more "I wish someone had given this kid a better outlet for his creativity."

Jerry's use of the word "creepy" strikes me as a quickly chosen one meant to comprise anything along the order of ditziness, geekiness, bizarreness, etc. That is, anything "non-conforming" or anything that parents would not condone. Man, am I there with you Jerry. A wooden box perches on the top of a storage unit on the other side of the room I'm sitting in. Inside that box rests all the letters my then-future husband and I wrote during our year of cross-country courtship. The couple of times I've been brave enough to pull those letters out and reread them, I've determined to burn them! They won't self-destruct from the passion contained there-in (neither of us would have dreamed of writing about steamy stuff!) so I'll have to stoke the fireplace to make that happen. No, my reason for wanting them gone is that mine sound so downright giddy.

But ... as the years go by ... I'm thinking that maybe it's okay that I was a ditz during my teen years. A "square" ditz. A clueless one. In fact, there are those who may claim this has never changed!

My experience has been that leaking that silly self-centeredness out a drop here, a drop there, and has been well-accepted by others, and led me to feel more comfortable and accepting of that part of myself. It's getting easier. When I read things like JER and his brother wrote, it gets way, way easier!

I see the glimmer of possibility that I may come to treasure that part of my past, and clips from those letters are likely to end up immortalized in memoir. But not quite yet.

Hey, Ice Cream, some of the very coolest projects I've ever heard of are the classic pranks like reassembling a teacher's Volkswagen on the roof of the school, or switching the furniture in adjoining dorm rooms (including the doors) to create mirror image accommodations during the occupants' weekend away, that sort of thing. I'm always green with envy when I read of pranks like that. Even something deviant like setting of a firecracker in the library and getting away with it, or hiding filched dynamite under the family bathtub creates envy. Why couldn't I have ever dreamed up such a colorful prank and recruited a team to pull it off?

Prank/project. The important thing is, nobody got hurt in any of these episodes.

Pranks fend off stuffiness.

gratuitous vs. purposeful disclosure

I'm keeping this issue in mind as I put finishing touches on my memoir. I consider a couple of things. The most important one is, do I want my kids to read it? This doesn't mean is it unpleasant, or even downright upsetting. It has more to do with, can I turn the experience into something redeeming and extract at least one life lesson from it? My sons have known for years that I was abused as a child, but they've known by me and my husband framing it in ways that help them understand some of my post-traumatic stress reactions (I startle easily, I am afraid to sleep alone, I am afraid when I'm alone in hotel rooms, etc.) and help them empower themselves against abuse.

Beyond that major point, if there's no good reason for telling a story, I won't tell it, no matter how delightfully intriquing it may be. In my memoir I write about the time I stole the flag from the county court house when I lived in Wisconsin during my teen years. I also write about the time I was arrested for disorderly conduct when I was drunk once at age 18. To omit those stories would deprive me of an opportunity to show what I was like during that time of my life, which is important in context of the entire memoir. Am I proud of those things? No, but they happened, and including them adds to the total picture. To me, the point is, what did I learn from them and what kind of person am I now?

On the other hand, if something would hurt someone and the memoir could be just as well written without that information, I won't include it. As it turned out, stealing the flag and my arrest for dis.conduct didn't hurt anyone but me, and they're important for character development, so I included them.

When I started writing in earnest, I made a list of everyone who might read my book, and how I would feel about that. My list includes childhood friends and their parents, teachers who helped me when I was a kid, famous people who I admire like Sidney Poitier, my relatives, my in-laws, kids my boys go to school with and their parents, professionals in my community whom I network with, etc. There's nothing in my book I wouldn't want any of them to read. That doesn't mean it's all nicey-nice. On the contrary, it's more graphic and disturbing than most memoirs. But nothing's included unless it serves a literary purpose or can be used to somehow generate a positive life lesson.

Polly, this is the most eloquent exposition on responsible disclosure that I've ever read. Bravo!

Thanks. I've put a lot of thought into it because the material is so sensitive. If I didn't think it would help lots of people, I wouldn't bother. Since many of the people in it are already very hurt to begin with, there's no point risking hurting them more unless it serves a greater purpose. And of course, all precautions will be taken to avoid identifying some of the characters, not to mention avoiding lawsuits.

About self-disclosure, which is what Jerry opened this thread about, I think the more we share and the more vulerable we are with our readers, the more we give them to attach to and care about.

Jerry, people usually write memoirs when they have extensive experience with a specific issue, like cancer or being a victim of a crime for example, or because they're famous and the public would be interested in reading about them in particular. What is your memoir about?

I'm guessing that most people on these forums strive for or have attained formal publication. There is a vast sea of people who write memoir and lifestory with no thought of readership beyond their immediate family and community. They write to create a written legacy of their lives for posterity. They write for the sheer joy of writing. They write for self-discovery and healing. They write as a testament to faith. I know this because I meet them in classes I teach.

I've begun at least a couple of dozen celebrity memoirs. I seldom read past the middle. Even shocking disclosures generally seem plastic and self-serving, perhaps like the surgically altered people who either write them or commission a ghost writer to make it appear that they did. I far prefer the work of writers like Annie Dillard (An American Childhood) and Haven Kimmel (Zippy) whose narratives of ordinary life are as compelling as the fiction of Sue Grafton or Rosamunde Pilcher.

My mantra: I write because I can't not write. I write for me, and if others read it and find value, that's icing on the cake.

I'll add two more questions for Jerry: Why are you writing, and who are you writing for?

Good questions for Jerry, ritergal. And for all memoirists I'd wager.

jerrywaxler said:

This boils down to a simple dilemma for me or any memoir writer - hiding anything that could possibly be criticized (which I'm really tired of, and probably when taken to an extreme includes everything) or offering the full story, and then dealing with the broad spectrum of reactions that are bound to result (which I started out fearing but gradually am becoming more sanguine.)

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Jerry, you are shining a light in a dusty soul cranny I have not visited for awhile. You describe something I refer to as "learning to love myself in spite of who I was." I wish I remembered the occasion on which my lights went on — the big "AHA!" moment — when I realized that at any given time I do the very best that I know how to do. If it looks to others as if I should have "known better," it's because I didn't fully understand what it appeared I "should have" known. Once I understand, I no longer repeat the "error." Having realized this about myself, it was hardly a stretch to extend that understanding to others.

You'll surely not be surprised to hear that when I explain this to most people, they scoff. Sometimes they appear to agree, but their eyes say otherwise.

I hesitate to put that epiphany in writing, for fear of sounding boastful or preachy. That old Inner Critic still breaths fire. My Inner Critic is a stalker. I have an injunction, but injunctions expire. I'd rather feel certain IC has disappeared forever. IC/shame. Aha!

I would not be who I am now if I hadn't begun as who I was then. Maybe it's this process of coming to understand, of learning to love ourselves, that is the "story" you seek. The story of the transition. Maybe, as you say, that's the story of writing the memoir.

Seek on, oh worthy Quester

Jerry, there are a couple of things I'm not getting. A 85,000 word manuscript is about 300 pages, and you say you have 400 pages of notes alone. That's bigger than most completed memoirs, and it's only notes. I don't understand how you can have a blog about memoir writing and sell workshops on writing memoir when you are struggling with such basic issues regarding shame, disclosure, etc. This is not to judge you or put you down, but in a sincere attampt to understand what you're doing. Have you read the memoirs you've cited above? They're dealing with very heavy issues, and you're describing being challenged by the basics. A lot of us start writing our memoirs and then find out what we're really doing is working through our feelings about things that we've done or that were done to us. It's a wonderful process of self discovery and issue resolution, but writing is a business and that kind of writing is usually not going to result in a successful product. I've seen a lot of your posts on this site and most of them refer readers to your blog. Now I'm wondering, are you promoting yourself as a memoir expert who is selling your blog and memoir workshops, are you actually writing a memoir, or you writing to resolve personal issues? Again, this is not to attack, but to understand what you're doing and where you're coming from.

Polly and Jerry, it seems to me that many aspiring (aspiring to mainstream publication, that is) writers run workshops or courses, and Jerry's blog seems along that line to me.

I never took or taught such courses myself but I see them.

As to the disclosure . . . the feedback I get is overwhelmingly positive. I get a few one-star reviews on Amazon, but they don't trouble me. People at events are particularly nice, especially when I remind them of my eggs and my size. So if my story is any guide, you don't have much to fear.

If the goal of memoir writing is publication, then memoir authors should be prepared to reveal anything/everything about themselves which is relevant to the specific story they wish to tell----no matter how "bad" it might seem. (Or "good.") The key thing to determine what you need to filter out of your story (or filter in) is relevance to the narrative you're creating from your memories. If something is relevant to the narrative, include it. If it isn't, don't.

I know that might seem oversimplified, but it is probably the most challenging aspect of memoir writing. Nobody wants to read a memoir about how perfect, non-flawed of a person you are. But many people will want to read a memoir about someone who had an absolutely horrible set of personal flaws and/or life circumstances and then overcame them.

Jerry, the world is full of tekkie people. I also designed the power transformers to run the ground zero test trailers at out last major underground nuclear tests in the 1980s. Designed lightning supression for the firestorm of lightning that comes after nuclear blasts, too. I did lots of unusual stuff.


I say go for it.

FWIW, I've always thought techie people are cool.