Has anyone here written a memoir? Writing one now, perhaps?
Two or three times this year I’ve found myself entertaining the notion. Just to cover my childhood and teens, really, up to when I joined the navy.
They were grim years. Dark. I suffered abuse.
What I’m wondering is, why would I want to write a memoir?
I don’t need to fix anything. I’ve done that, actually. I’m 61 and I’m okay. Long ago, I forgave the people who hurt me. I don’t need to come to terms with anything, or heal anything. It’s healed. So that’s not a reason to write it all out.
Nor do I need to see those years from the perspective of my abusers. Which might be a factor for some people who write a memoir, but it isn’t for me. I’m satisfied that I’ve covered that too.
I don’t believe it would make me any money. Not that money is a driver in my life. There are eleven or twelve of my novels out there in the world and, although my loyal readers enjoy them, experience tells me not to expect anything I write to buy me a yacht. So it isn’t money.
I’m not of the opinion that a memoir of mine would add to the sum of human wisdom. Parts of it might possibly help a youngster or two who are going through what I went through… but frankly I don’t foresee it being popular enough to get into their hands.
And I wouldn’t bother writing it just for myself, because I don’t do that, or need to do that, or even want to do that.
So I don’t know why the thought keeps returning. Why I’m attracted to the idea of the project.
Any ideas, friends?
I am a river. In my youth I was intense, rapids, white water swirling around hostile rocks, always driving on. Older now, I am deep and shadowed by trees, slow in appearance but that’s deceptive to shallow onlookers. Drop a leaf on my surface and see how strong are my currents. I’m still moving on.
That’s me, a river.
What are you?
Just checked, and it’s been nearly a month since I posted here. Didn’t realise it was so long. Life is quiet here in Bridger Hollow. But as my title of this post says, there’s some creating going on. Quietly. Not fast. But it’s happening.
Three WIPs are underway: SPACE TRAIN 2; an urban fantasy novel with the working title DEMONS, which will incorporate my old novella BEAUTY AND THE BASTARD rewritten and somewhat re-imagined as the first of its three parts; and a historical novel I’m co-authoring with Debbie McGowan.
No big wordcounts are taking place. We’re talking hundred of words rather than thousands, to be honest, because my ME during this two-month-and-still-counting heatwave is poleaxing me every day. Real life effects of climate change on a chronically ill author.
Also to do is two, or possibly three, new books I need to lift from my hard drive and set free into the world. The first is an alien invasion SF novella; the second an epic eschatological Christian poem that is nothing like my normal produce but is close to my heart; and the third a collection of SFF short stories.
I think the collection mightn’t be ready for release until next year, but the first two will probably appear this autumn. Depending on my health and the fallout from various medical appointments I have looming on the horizon.
So that’s where I am. Here, as always. 🙂