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| Photo from Morguefile.com |
Memory is a slippery thing. It can fade with time
and it’s often subjective. I’ve been reading a bit about writing memoir lately
and one of the things that writers often struggle with as they attempt it, is
the fact that what one person remembers may not be at all similar to what others
remember about the same event. No two people will see a thing the same way and sometimes those we write about may not agree with our perspective.
This became apparent to me when I wrote a piece
about my mom called Dancing in the Kitchen, published in A Second Cup of HotApple Cider. I gave the book to my mom as a gift. She said nothing about the
story so while visiting one day I asked if she liked it. “Yes,” she said, “but
that’s not how I remember it.”
When I asked her to explain she said she didn’t
think the incident was in any way significant. But to me, the moment when my
mom taught my two small daughters how to tap dance, even though she had a brace
on her leg and a cane in her hand, was a moment I will never forget. It was my
memory. My job was to record what I felt at that moment.
Sometimes memories can be blocked or change
significantly if a traumatic event has happened. And then there are all those
pesky details to worry about – did that walk out of the jungle in Papua New
Guinea take five hours or six? When did my mother start working out of our
home? It seemed she always did, but my sister says she didn’t start until I was
in school.
All of these things can prevent a writer from trying
to write memoir because they are afraid they won’t get it right. Or perhaps
there are things they would rather not have written down in black and white.
I had those fears until I attended a short workshop
with Sigmund Brouwer and his wife, Cindy Morgan, just after Sigmund’s book
Thief of Glory, (a story based on his father’s life), was published. Sigmund
talked about the fact that memoir is not autobiography. Not every detail needs
to be, nor should be, recorded, and if some of the details aren’t true, that’s
okay. Being true to yourself and to your own memories, and to the story, is what’s
key. Sigmund commentedd that what you leave out is sometimes just as important as
what you leave in and will be determined by what you want your readers to feel.
As I wrote my play, A Pattern in Blue, about my
father’s experience during WW2, I was very conscious of trying to get it right,
trying to fit all the scattered pieces of that historical event together into a
whole that would tell my father’s story and move those who read it or saw it on
the stage. At times I despaired of ever getting it exactly right. I was careful
with the historical detail but how could I really know what my father felt as
he stood at the gates of Bergen-Belsen? How could I really know what he felt in the
psychiatric hospital where he spent several months?
I had to imagine it. The story has been
told. It has been read and seen on a stage and the response of those who saw it
told me that I accomplished what I set out to do. I told the truth as I believed
it would have been.
It’s all about the story. It’s all about making it
come alive for the reader and audience.
It’s all about memory ... but then, it’s not.
****
Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada
where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the
winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One
Smooth Stone. The sequel, A Tumbled Stone was short listed in The Word Awards.
Marcia also has two devotional books in print and has contributed to several
anthologies. Her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil
Callaway and Mark Buchanan.
Abundant
Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded on Smashwords
or on Amazon.
It is also now available in Journal
format on Amazon.
Her
most recent release is the first book in a fantasy series, The Ambassadors
Visit
Marcia’s Website
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