In their excellent You Should Really Write a Book, Regina Brooks and Brenda Lane Richardson put memoirs into six categories:
1. Coming-of-Age
Memoirs
2. Addiction
and Compulsion Memoirs
3. Transformation
Memoirs
4. Travel
and Food Memoirs
5. Religion
and Spirituality Memoirs
6. Outlier
Subgenres
Coming-of-Age
They write, “It has been said that the only good thing that ever came from having bad parents is that
they make good memoirs.” This is a subset of the rule that “bad times make
good stories,” or at least make interesting stories. Sadly, lots of sad stories
exist, such as the memoir by Mary E. Seaman and myself, Kidnapped Twice: Then Betrayed and Abused. Though published right before
Christmas, the book could not be promoted then as likely to contribute to
holiday cheer.
Fortunately, happy memoirs
exist, too, such as our High Shoes and
Bloomers by Alice Conner Selfridge (2014) and our Home Is Where the Story Begins by Kathleen Blake Shields (2015), both
books being fine fare for holiday giving.
Addiction
and Compulsion
Brooks
and Richardson note that more than an eighth of the population is addicted to
drugs or alcohol, and many celebrities are in this group. I
reviewed for Amazon a memoir, Needle,
by a recovering addict, and I found little to like. If the addict takes
responsibility and cleans up his act, well and good. If we just get a series of
excuses, what does that contribute? Still, such books sell, and the descent and
recovery make a natural story arc, like a U. These are what were once called
“cautionary tales,” though some authors seem to revel in the celebrity that
attends them. B & R have a how-to section on writing these.
Transformation
or Survivor
The
more harrowing the better; the more dramatic the crisis, the more impressive
the survival, and one had better learn something from the experience. You get
the idea. B & R give lots of good advice. See them for it. The best of the books in the sub-genres
in this category all share: inevitability
of something terrible survived, bonding
between the reader and the author, suspense,
character development, victimization, empathy, and insight. The down side
of such works is that the situations the protagonists are in often disgust the
reader, unless leavened with humor and fascinating unique details and unless the
author is capable of getting the readers immediately and deeply involved.
The variety of perilous
personal predicaments as memoir material astounds. I’m partial to The Diving
Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death, written by Jean-Dominque
Bauby (1997), paralyzed to such a degree by the neurological “locked-in
syndrome,” that he communicated his memoir to a patient nurse-secretary by
blinking his left eye. Shortly after the book was done, he gave up the ghost.
Suffice it to say, your difficulties in writing your book will pale in
comparison with Monsieur Bauby’s.
Take heart from that.
Travel
and Food
Yes, I know travel books and
cooking books are popular, but I have little taste for them. Brooks and
Richardson report what publishers are looking for, and here I summarize: a protagonist with a strong desire, who is
opinionated and fairly outspoken, likeable, capable of describing the sensory
experiences (seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling), who uncovers
unfamiliar aspects of the locale, giving historical and cultural context, with
both a strong story line and an insightful interior monologue, ending the
journey with a transformation, growth, and some lessons for the rest of us.
Easy, right? Just don’t forget to have a plot! And add some humor.
Again, see B & R for lots
of detailed advice. Later.
I cannot advise you on food
memoirs. I am on a rather restricted diet, and the subject of food, especially
exotic food, either nauseates me or bores me or both. My usual dinner fare is
meat and salad, lots of dressing, hold the carbs. Some live to eat. I eat to
live.
Still, “each to his own
taste,” or as the Romans said: de
gustibus non est disputandum.
Religion
and Spirituality
This topic needs to be handled
with great care. Politics and religion are explosive. Because of its great
importance, religion is often a source of heated contention; unfortunately, one
person’s allegory or parable is another’s literal truth. There is a large
market for books about God and about religious experiences. Over $1 billion a
year is spent on such books in the U.S. alone.
A classic in the genre is
Thomas Merton’s (1948, 1978) The Seven-Storey
Mountain, his struggle in the World War II era to find God. B & R
summarize a plethora of religious memoirs.
Outlier
Categories
Brooks and Richardson list:
biblio, canine, comedic, family saga, gardening, grief, incarceration,
information-based, parenting, romance, venture. They describe each in detail.
As is often written in reference lists, op.
cit.; see the B & R book itself.
Regardless of the memoir
genre, Judith Barrington advised memoirists:
Your
reader has to be willing to be both entertained by the story itself and
interested in how you now, looking back on it, understand it.
In
order for the reader to care about what you make of your life, there has to be
an engaging voice in the writing – a voice that captures the personality. In
all kinds of informal essays including the memoir, the voice is conversational.
To keep the voice
“conversational,” you will write in the first person, using “I” and “we” to
refer to yourself as the subject of your sentences. When talking to others about
your book, you would often indicate, “the narrator….” Thus, you might tell a
friend, “I chose to have the narrator make that information public.” You will
sound quite author-like, and you are becoming one.
Judith Barrington advises that
we lose our reluctance to make judgments, as these spice the memoir and add
value. Because the “other side” does not get to answer, however, try to be fair
and even to indicate what the other point of view might be.
Knowing what you want to write
about includes knowing what to leave out. “To be effective, be selective.” To
make a point, an example or two will suffice; more will bore.
Barrington warns us to avoid
special pleading:
The
tone of such pieces may be serious, ironic, angry, sad, or almost anything
except whiny. There must be no hidden plea for help – no subtle seeking out of
sympathy. The writer must have done her work, made her peace with the past, and
have been telling the story for the story’s sake. Although the writing may
incidentally turn out to be another step in her recovery, that must not be her
visible motivation: literary writing is not therapy. Her first allegiance must
be to the telling of the story and I, as the reader, must feel that I’m in the
hands of a competent writer who needs nothing from me except my attention.
I must
feel confident that the writer is not using me to enhance her status or that of
her family…with this “improved” version of her past. Bad Blood by Lorna Sage is one of the many examples
of a memoir that avoids this pitfall.
I must
also feel confident that I’m not being used by the writer to get revenge on one
of the characters in the story.… On the other hand, anger, when it is perceived
by the reader to be justified, need not be disguised or watered down.
Don’t
whine. Don’t brag. Choose your targets carefully, sparingly, justly.
We’re done here. More help can
be obtained from the books by Barrington and by Brooks and Richardson (2012),
among others.
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Excerpted from my own recently published opus, Write Your Book with Me, from Outskirts Press and available online through OP as well as amazon.com and bn.com. See also my site, http://WriteYourBookWithMe.com
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