How to narrow the focus of your memoir

One of the main issues I have found with memoir writing is not lack of material, but rather too much. Each day has moments worthy of notice and attention. If you add a lifetime of days together, that is a ridiculously overwhelming volume of material to work with.

Another problem is, that although there are moments from your life that are incredibly important to you on an individual level, they may not be at all important to your memoir on a story level. So how do you narrow your focus?

I heard a piece of advice (from a podcast I listened to years ago and I can no longer find- doh!) that helped me enormously in this process. The wise person said that she saw memoir as a piece of non-fiction writing where you are making an argument for something, and your life story is merely an illustration of the point you are trying to make. The example she gave was that someone could write a memoir making the argument, ‘Life is better when you share it with a cat.’ You would then go on to draw examples from your own life that demonstrated this.

I love the way this concept stops your memoir merely being about you as an individual and broadens it into something larger and richer. When I took her idea and applied it to my own book, it took me months of driving myself bananas to come up with something that I thought really captured what I was trying to communicate. I decided the ‘argument’ of my book was: ‘If we don’t look after veterans, it is not just them, but their families, who pay the price.’

This was a very effective way to separate out the stories that needed to be included in my book from the ones that didn’t. That’s not to say it was easy. Some of the stories I left on the curb were favourites of mine. ‘Killing your darlings’ takes on a whole new meaning when the story you are abandoning is very personal and intensely meaningful… but it is necessary.

A memoir is not a journal. It is something you are writing for an audience. If you can’t make tough decisions about what belongs and what doesn’t, you will never create the clarity necessary to transform a bunch of stories into a book.

What about you? What techniques have you found helpful to help narrow the focus of your memoir?

A few memoirs to get you started

If you are new to memoirs and looking for a few recommendations, these books are well worth a look.

If you like witty hilarity and outrageous extremes, read 'Running with Scissors' and 'Dry' by Augusten Burroughs. His writing is amazing as well.

Like a beverage or two? I do not mind a drink myself, and I am now desperate to go out drinking and hanging on every word Judith Lucy says after reading 'The Lucy Family Alphabet'. To be fair I have wanted to go out drinking with Judith Lucy ever since I first saw her comedy…

One of my favourite books from childhood, 'The Story of my Life' by Helen Keller, stands the test of time. An amazing piece of writing, and an insight into living in the world as a deaf and blind person.

'Angela’s Ashes' by Frank McCourt plunges you into the wet misery of extreme poverty in Ireland. Set amongst a backdrop of Catholic guilt, and told with wonderful lyricism and humour, it was one of the books that changed the way we now think of memoir. Read this if you love a good tale, well told.

If you want to run away and live in an abandoned villa in the Tuscan countryside (yes please!), read 'Under the Tuscan Sun' by Frances Mayes

I was transfixed by A.B. Facey’s, 'A Fortunate Life', when I read it as a teenager in the Rocky High library. Such an open, emotionally vulnerable account of a child’s relationship with his mother, especially given the era. Read this if you want to learn something about Australian history and hardship and how to keep rising above the circumstances you find yourself in.

I was completely captivated by the way James Frey described his rage in 'A Million Little Pieces'.  I don’t care if he made up some of the book, his emotional truth is indisputable.

If you like Amy Poelher, you will love her part memoir/ part manifesto, 'Yes Please', for its wisdom and laugh-out-loud moments.

I wanted to become part of Ahn Do’s family after reading his memoir, 'The Happiest Refugee'. Some of his stories made me snort with laughter, others made me cry. Read this if you love a positive take on life.

If you like the idea of going on a pilgrimage from the comfort of your own home, you will like 'Wild' by Cheryl Strayed. Wonderfully written, it made me want to take off into the bush on my own, though I did spend the entire book thanking my lucky stars that it was she, not me, carrying her ridiculously heavy backpack.

I have always loved Alan Cumming as a performer, but I mostly loved his book 'Not my Father’s Son', as it is one of the few memoirs I have read that covers the terrain of a child’s experience growing up with a violent father, and the way that relationship evolves into adulthood. I related to so many aspects of his life. 

'Too Close to the Falls' by Catherine Gildiner was an absolute pleasure to read. A wonderfully quirky story of a girl who didn't fit the normal mold, but carved a niche for herself regardless. Read this if you love beautiful writing and delightful characters.

Magda Szubanski’s 'Reckoning' is a wonderful memoir. Though Magda is a celebrity, this is not the story of her public life. It is a far deeper and more meaningful search for authentic identity and a quest to understand more about her father, a World War II veteran, all underpinned by a love for her family that was palpable throughout.

I could go on, but these are a few to get you started.

Where do you work when you write?

When I initially decided 2014 was the year I was going to finish my memoir, I went to the office to work (my husband and I are business partners in a graphic design/copywriting studio, Mono Design, where we share space with architects, event managers, film makers and exhibition designers). But after a few weeks, I came to realise that while I can stand constant interruption when I am copywriting, it is not the same for me with creative writing.

When I am inhabiting a scene, tuning into sights and sounds, capturing voices, feeling the way my body is responding to the world I am creating, I don’t want company, or any other version of reality infringing on my headspace. When I am boiling down the essence of what something means to me, I might spend over an hour trying to get a sentence right. I can’t afford to have any other words in my head except my own, otherwise I might miss the click when the world suddenly shifts into alignment and everything sounds exactly the way it is meant to. So I have spent the year working alone at home in blissful silence.

Where do you work when you write?

The Shame Game

I recently read the document Change the Story: a shared framework for the primary prevention of violence against women and their children in Australia.

It states:

Australia has a choice. We can change the story that currently sees a woman murdered every week by a current or former partner…

Violence against women and their children is not an inevitable or intractable social problem…

Although there is no single cause of violence against women and their children, the latest international evidence shows there are certain factors that consistently predict – or drive – higher levels of violence against women. These include beliefs and behaviours reflecting disrespect for women, low support for gender equality and adherence to rigid or stereotypical gender roles, relations and identities…

What this framework makes clear is that gender inequality is the core of the problem and it is the heart of the solution.

Discussing this report with some people at a barbeque the other day, someone floated the idea of shared responsibility. They suggested that if we witness a man inflicting violence against a woman, even if it is their intimate partner, and we do nothing to act, then we have to consider ourselves part of the problem.

In some ways, this seems like a valid idea. I know that when I was a child and people witnessed my father acting violently toward me, I interpreted their not stepping in to mean they thought I deserved to be treated that way. As a reaction to this, throughout my life, I have stepped in on multiple occasions and told men off for acting like arseholes. But I have to admit, in doing so, I think I probably put myself in dangerous situations that I was lucky didn’t turn seriously bad.

Since I have had kids I know there is no way I would be willing to put them at risk in this way. If they were with me, the best I could do would be to call the police. And given how stretched they already are dealing with domestic violence, would that end up being effective?

I also wonder, if I brought to a man’s attention, whilst he was already in the middle of a violent rage, how wrong he was, how badly I was judging his behavior, would that make the situation turn out better for the woman? Might he not be likely to punish her more when he got home? Would I also be in some way responsible for that?

I am a massive fan of Brene Brown’s work. (If you don’t know her, start with her Ted talk The Power of Vulnerability. Seriously mind blowing. https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability?language=en) One of the things Brene’s work as a shame researcher has revealed, is that shame is highly correlated with violence, aggression and bullying. This is the result of decades of research in the area. So I think it is safe to say that heaping shame on people who are already acting violently is unlikely to achieve the outcome we want.

It breaks my heart to read ‘in Australia, at least one woman a week is killed by a partner or former partner’. It appalls me that ‘intimate partner violence contributes to more death, disability and illness in women aged 15 to 44 than any other preventable risk factor.’

Obviously things need to change. And though I wish we could wave a magic wand and stop the violence now, I know this not going to happen. This situation has been going on for a long time. It makes sense that it will take a long time to effect real change upon it. But since Rosie Batty won the 2015 Australian of the Year, it feels like we are at last owning up to the problem. That is always the first step.

But there is one more thing we can all work toward. If, as Change the Story suggests, inequality is the ‘core of the problem’ and ‘heart of the solution,’ as a society we can work together to make it completely unacceptable to treat women as less than. This means respecting their value on every level, ensuring they have equal rights, equal pay, and access to services that allow them make appropriate decisions for themselves and their children.

Help your book succeed

When it comes to the world of writing, my approach has been to focus on the things I can control. I can’t control whether my book is a best seller or wins literary awards. But I can turn up. Do the work. Finish the book.

(Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design)

After finishing my manuscript, I couldn’t control whether people were going to respond to my work the way I wanted. But I could take the pitch I wrote seriously and do the very best job I was capable of doing. Part of the way I did that was to build connections via twitter and facebook to demonstrate to publishers my willingness to engage with the wider world. 

Why? Because even with all our technological advances, most people still read books based on recommendations from trusted sources. I wanted to increase the network of people I spoke to, build relationships with them so that maybe, just maybe, some of these people might read my book. And maybe, just maybe, they would like it. And maybe, just maybe, they would tell their friends about it. So that some day people outside my family and friends might actually be willing to read something I had written.

Sure, some authors refuse to engage with twitter, facebook, pinterest, instagram etc. They stay in their writing cave and produce wonderful works. Some of these authors are very successful and they don’t need to do anything more than put words on a page. If you are one of these authors, I salute you. You rock.

If, like the rest of us, you are starting out on your career, you might want to consider getting over yourself. Like it or not, publishing is a business. The business of selling books. If you are lucky enough to get a contract with a publishing house, your book becomes a commodity. Your publishing house will work their butts off to make sure it sells, but your efforts as the author of the work, can make a real difference.

From where I stand (someone whose first book is about to come out) it seems like a very risky move to loiter on the sidelines and hope for the best, praying that you are somehow special; that you will be one of the chosen few who need to make no effort apart from writing a book, for it to be successful.

Before selling this manuscript, I didn’t really understand how the publishing industry worked. I thought when an author got an advance, it was a lump sum payment for the years of toil it took to create a book. I then imagined as soon as the book hit the shelves, an author started earning royalties. 

But that is not how it works. If you are lucky enough to sell your manuscript, the amount they pay for your book is an advance on sales they anticipate your book will achieve. Once book sales have paid back the advance, then you start pocketing extra. Of course this makes perfect sense, but it also means I now feel a genuine responsibility to pay back the money my publishers have invested.

I am lucky enough to be with a big publishing house, and they have put their large marketing team behind the book because they too want to earn their money back. But I need to do something with the anxiety I feel that my book will turn out to be a total failure and everyone will hate it and only ten people will buy it and the lovely people at Penguin will put a black mark next to my name that says, “this author sucks and she stole our money,” or something like that.

The way I am choosing to deal with this anxiety, is if there is something within my power to do – get on twitter, write a facebook post, write an article, think about what I am going to wear to my book launch – I am going to do it.

I am going to go all in on this, because at least then if I fail, I have done so giving it everything I’ve got. I will not walk away saying ‘what if.’ What if I had done more. What if I had tried harder. It seems a bigger risk to me to be half-arse because “real artists don’t promote themselves,” than it does to do the best you can at everything related to your book.

I am not talking about spruking your book on high rotation on your twitter stream. That is totally half-arsed. If you don’t know how to use facebook or twitter, read articles on how to do it. Arm yourself with knowledge to make sure your efforts count. Lots of people have written excellent blog posts on this stuff. Seriously. If you don’t know how to do it, figure it out. It doesn’t cost any money, and you might even come to enjoy it.

Some people think the marketing stuff is below their dignity. I say screw dignity. Help your book succeed. Go all in.

Is writing a memoir cathartic?

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

During the past year, when I have told people the book I was writing was a memoir, one of the most common responses they had was to say, “That must be cathartic.”

To me, these people (most of whom like to point out to me that they don’t read memoir) seemed to have the notion that a memoir was like a journal; an unfiltered blah about your life heaped onto a page.

My initial response was to bristle at the implication. I was writing a BOOK for God’s sake! A serious tome of great literary value! I was not (insert shudder here) keeping a journal (sniffs and walks off).

I found myself saying to these non-memoir reading folk, “I have had a lot of therapy. I would definitely say I found that cathartic. I’m not sure I would use that word to describe the process of writing a book.”

But on reflection, I think there has been catharsis during the creation of ENEMY (my book).

The word catharsis means:
1. the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, especially through certain kinds of art.
2.  the discharge of pent-up emotions so as to result in the alleviation of symptoms or the permanent relief of the condition.

 In relation to definition one, I have definitely found myself shaking with fear, sobbing or laughing during the writing of this book, so there is that. (But I also think many creators of works of fiction describe having these bodily responses as they write. How else can you give authentic form to intense emotional moments?).

But not only did I feel those feelings, when I now look back on the memories from which they sprang, they don’t seem to have the same hold on me. It feels like much of the emotional energy tied to those moments are trapped inside the book (kind of like Voldemort putting part of his soul into the diary Ginny writes in in Harry Potter, though hopefully with less potential for part of my soul to be killed if someone stabs the book with a Basalisk fang).

Looking at the second definition of catharsis, it is the word permanent that stands out for me. Only time will tell, but I do feel there may have been a profound ongoing shift in the way I think about my Dad after writing this book.

It is true, a large part of ENEMY involved bearing witness for the child whose voice was never heard. But the other part of the book, the research into the Vietnam War, trying to understand what it was like for boys who were sent there to fight (Dad included), and what they went through when they returned to home soil, that process of discovery has ceased to be an intellectual exercise for me.

By struggling against my innate desire to continue to see things from my childhood perspective – black and white, right and wrong – I have allowed my memories of Dad to soften into a more complicated shade of grey.

Douglas Robert Callum was not only my father. He was also an innocent boy, who at the age of 20 was conscripted to fight in the Vietnam War. He came back damaged. He needed help. He didn’t get it. His family bore the brunt of his pain.

The way I now see my dad will forever be re-shaped by my understanding of all he endured, and the inner battles he was struggling with. I could never condone or justify many of his actions, but I have tapped into a well of genuine compassion for him that I really hope is permanent.

So if anyone now asks me if writing a memoir has been cathartic, I believe I can answer yes.

ENEMY is due for release in March 2016 through Penguin Books.

Making time to write

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

I don't know about you, but I love seeing how people fit writing into their lives. Here’s the way I found time to write my first book.

To paint a bit of a picture of my world for you, you need to know I have two kids, Mister Three and Miss Seven. Miss Seven is at primary school Monday to Friday, and Mister Three is mostly at home with me, but goes to child-care two days a week.

Those two days are my absolutely non-negotiable, bum-on-the-seat writing days, though they are never long enough. (I still have to drop Miss Seven to school, where I am NOT allowed to leave before final farewell kisses after her morning assembly, then drive Mister Three to child care. At his drop-off, there are more farewell kisses and an elaborate routine of pretending I have lost him, asking people if they have seen where he is, before he “surprises” them with his presence from behind my back. By the time I am back home, it is ten o’clock… on a good day.) At 3.25 pm I then hurl myself through the school gates to collect Miss Seven, before picking up Mister Three.

Though I am not naturally inclined to work at night, when I started to get pressure from a publisher to show him my book, I realised those ten hours a week were not going to be enough to get the job done. So I scrabbled around to find more time, aiming for two hours each night once the kids were in bed.

When I sent the manuscript to an agent and she urged me to have a draft ready for publishers a month ahead of the deadline I had set for myself, I squeezed out extra time on the weekends. Near the end of my ready-for-publishers draft, I was doing ten hours on Mister Three’s child-care days, two hours a night seven nights a week, and at least six hours a day on the weekends. That’s thirty-six hours I managed to steal out of my life (though it did mean I barely saw anyone except my husband and children, and them only during meal times).

 Still, though at the time I thought it would kill me, I managed to get my draft out within a reasonable amount of time.

 I have now even forgotten the promise I made to myself that I would never write a book again. It’s kind of like giving birth that way. You think to yourself, “Who would put themselves through that again?” Then you start looking at Huggies commercials and thinking, “Aren’t babies cuuute?”

So while I am waiting to begin editing my first book, I am using the spare time I have carved out of my world to begin sketching out ideas for the next one. 

 How do you make time to write?