Poems and Pints and a Play at the Queens Pub, Carmarthen

Dominic Williams and Annie Butler read
The Nice View by Cynthia Veal Holm

Last night at the Queen's Pub in Carmarthen, two Welsh writers/actors, Dominic Williams and Annie Butler, performed an award-winning play by Lesley University's own Cynthia Veal Holm. In April, Cynthia won the Gary Garrison award for her ten minute play, The Nice View, which was one of four featured works performed at the Kennedy Center. Yeah, that's what I said: MY FRIEND Cynthia's play was performed at the frickin' Kennedy Center. Last night was hailed by Dominic as its "UK premiere."

As usual, the Welsh know how to do literature right: mixing an ancient literary tradition with a passion for the spoken word and lots of cider and ale. Poems and Pints is a group of writers who meet every month in Carmarthen to share their work while enjoying delicious beverages. I don't even know what kind of cider I was drinking--just whatever was on tap, which in Wales is always good.

Cynthia's award

We three Americans were the "guests of honor" at this event--sponsored by Write4Word--which means we got to read a little of our work along with the rest of these passionate, talented writers. What a pleasure to be in a land where literature is so treasured. The writing was first-rate, and the group was full of people who know how to listen.

Memoir Craft: Grappling With Memory in Warm Springs (Part 3)

In Part 1, I wrote about Susan Richards Shreve's craft technique of writing about her memory within the creative narrative of her memoir, Warm Springs. She begins immediately with the word "traces" and its double meaning: the small responses still evident in muscles atrophied by polio, and the flashes of memory she mines from her time living at the polio hospital.

In Part 2, we looked at the beautiful scene describing Shreve's first memory, one that could not have happened, but she insists she remembers.

Memoir Craft: Grappling With Memory in Warm Springs (Part 2)

In Part 1, I wrote about the first example of Susan Richard's Shreve's craft technique of making transparent her process of grappling with memory. In her memoir Warm Springs, she employs the metaphor of being examined by doctors to find "traces" of muscle movement in her legs, which have been decimated by polio. Each muscle requires her complete concentration, patience, and focus; recovering her memories, she says, requires the same effort, even if it is only to find "traces" of them.

The second example is a stunning, one-page chapter titled "Memory in Process" in which Shreve recalls her first memory. She is one and half years old and recovering from polio. Her mother walks in and approaches her crib:

Memoir Craft: Grappling with Memory in Warm Springs (Part 1)

Susan Richards Shreve is concerned with memory--its accuracy, reliability, power, and how various people can experience the same events and have entirely different memories of those events.

In Warm Springs, her memoir of spending two childhood years at a polio hospital, she is determined to tell the truth. The truth, as the reader discovers during the story, is established by Shreve in part by making transparent her process of grappling with memory.

On three occasions she takes time--within the story itself--to let us into her process. The first is immediate: the word "traces," which is in the subtitle and is the focus of the first brief chapter.

A few more six-word memoirs I like from Smith Magazine:


chocolate chip cookie endowment coming soon

I came. I saw. I sat.

Searching for profound moments of pleasure.

These years writing about those ones.

                                          What the hell is going on?

This Week's Wanna Read: Irritable Hearts by Mac McClelland

When Mac McClelland returns home after witnessing horrifying events in the aftermath of the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, she begins to experience strange and disturbing psychological symptoms, among them dissociation, nightmares, and hallucinations. After being diagnosed with PTSD, she researches the disease while trying to heal, traveling the world, and falling in love.

Now that sounds like a story. Read an excerpt of Irritable Hearts here.

Emotional Physicality in Gail Caldwell's Let's Take the Long Way Home

Read this.

This memoir is gorgeous and heartbreaking. Some people define it as a "grief memoir," but I believe it is first and foremost a friendship memoir, as the subtitle states on the cover. That's what I think of when I think of this book.

Caldwell creates such a close emotional connection with the reader that our empathy kicks into high gear. She does this partly by describing her physical response to emotion which invites us into the immediacy, the urgency of the scene.

Near the beginning of her story, Caldwell and her dog are taking a long walk in a park--where she and Caroline Knapp often walked together with their dogs--and is suddenly overwhelmed with grief from the loss of Caroline, her closest friend: “I felt a desolation so great,” she writes, “that for a moment my knees wouldn’t work.” The attachment between her and Caroline has been ripped apart by Caroline's death, and the result is a profound, physical grief.

This Week's Wanna Read: On The Move by Oliver Sacks

Easy. Oliver Sacks, guys.

This man knows how to blend precise command of the English language with elegant craft to create beautiful, readable prose. He never talks down or condescends in any way. He weaves medical terminology into his writing, defines it for the layperson, while still respecting the reader's intelligence.

His autobiography, On The Move, was released in April of this year. It's on the back burner because I have so much work to do right now, but I know I'll get to this one.

Four Crucial Differences Between Memoir and Autobiography

Two cats who symbolize the difference
between ... oh whatever. Kitties!

The differences between memoir and autobiography are crucial to the experience of both the writer and reader. Many people, however--including writers--don't understand how they differ in in terms of craft and storytelling technique.

I keep these four ideas in mind as I write my own memoir so I can keep the focus and clean story arc I need. They also help guide me in creating myself as a character on the page.

1. Time Span

An autobiography tells the story of a whole life, whether the writer has lived a long time (Oliver Sacks, Roger Ebert) or not so long (Drew Barrymore). If you want to write an overview of your entire life, including all of the significant events and lessons learned, then you want to write an autobiography.

Six-Word Memoirs and a T-Shirt Maybe

Just discovered this book titled Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure. (Should six-word be hyphenated? Does it matter? It's distracting me.) The title grabbed me the way flash fiction does: it's short! I can read it easy! I know that's illogical, considering how dense good short writing has to be, how much it makes you think. Maybe I just want to think sometimes instead of read.

Exercises that have helped me a lot over the years involve strictly enforced word counts. Recently I answered the question "Why did you attend your first writing workshop?" I had to write it in 100 words or less. Doesn't sound like a big deal until you actually try to do it, and the discipline it requires makes the writing sharper, clearer, and more succinct. It also works your brain in a different way, which feels refreshing after long sessions thinking about craft, content, or character.

Here are a few examples. They sound a little like haiku when you read them out loud.

Three Celebrity Memoirs That Are Worth Your Time

In the previous post, I expressed hope but skepticism about Shonda Rhimes' upcoming book, Year Of Yes. I really want it to be good and honest and engaging and not consumer-driven "inspirational" claptrap. But I do have hope, because I have read memoirs by celebrities that are elegantly written, insightful, and tell a great story.

Here are three of my favorites.

Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi

De Rossi honestly and poignantly recounts her life in the business of modeling and acting (and why she changed her name). The main thread of the book is her struggle with body image and eating disorders. It's wonderful reading because she captures the narrative within the frame of the dysfunctional mind. She's a subtly unreliable narrator when it comes to her body.

One revealing example occurs while de Rossi is being photographed for a magazine. The photographer complements her body, saying how beautiful and healthy she is, adding that he sees a lot of sick bodies in the studio. Hearing this, de Rossi thinks to herself: I gotta get me one of those sick bodies.

From the Los Angeles Times:

In prose as simply elegant — and as powerful — as a little black dress, De Rossi weaves together three themes — the impact of a loving, but lonely girlhood as the child of a single mother, the corrosive effect of constant doubts about her appearance and the internal struggle over her sexuality

M%ms in Memoir

I'm going with the elephant mom. It's not easy to look at photos of moms when you're the child of a mother with Borderline Personality Disorder. Just typing the word "mother" can make my stomach flip.  Anyway, I like elephants.

I'm reading two memoirs for this submission term: Fierce Attachments by Vivian Gornick and Warm Springs by Susan Richards Shreve. In each, the author's mother plays a prominent role.
Gornick describes a woman whose psyche revolves around the early death of her husband. Her mother defines herself by her grief. She's self-absorbed, difficult to reach, and inattentive. I get this. It sounds familiar.

Shreve's mother seems ideal--loving, intelligent, involved. She's emotionally available and kind. It always surprises me when I read about a mother like this. What a gift! What a way to begin your life, with such a wonderful person to guide you. It makes me think about what I've lost, what could have been, which makes me reflective and a little sad. That's okay. That's how it is.

I'm writing a craft annotation on each of these books. I can't write about the mothers, per say--I have to write about the author's craft--but I can't help but be struck by the difference. Since I'm writing about my own mother in my memoir, I'm always looking to see how others have accomplished this difficult task with honesty and grace.

Workshop Weariness

Just finished a memoir workshop at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown with the writer Patrizia Chen. I hadn't counted on the burnout factor--that doing an MFA would take so much workshopping bandwidth out of me. I did fine while I was there, being myself, as another student said, "intense." I suppose I am. I'm passionate about writing, passionate about text itself, about reading it, analyzing it, making it work, finding meaning. I love it all. Words. Language. The art of making books.

But I did struggle a bit during the off-hours with fatigue. I needed a nap almost every day. My brain felt drained. I didn't sleep very well. I never once went to the water, a first for me in all of the times I've been to Provincetown.

It was worth it, though. If you ever have a chance to work with Patrizia, take it. She's a generous, intelligent instructor and just a great person.