I
am working full speed on my memoir, Escaping
Madness, and hope to have the first complete draft done by the end of
March. I hope to get it published by mid-summer, or the end of the year at the
latest. I have already learned one
significant lesson. Once you begin plumbing the reaches of your memory you are
amazed at how long-forgotten incidents and people surface.
The
theme running through my memoir is the way violence—verbal and physical—has
punctured many parts of my life.
For
those of you reading this who might be thinking at trying your hand at memoir
writing, I strongly urge you to do it. And, if you stopping because you cannot
remember a lot of the details of your past, don’t forget that a memoir is a
form of creative non-fiction. For example, I cannot remember the exact words of
my mother yield when she was in one of her mentally ill, alcoholic rages, but I
can remember the substance of what she said; I can recreate my feelings and the
essence of what she said.
The
whole process of writing a memoir can, and for me, is cathartic. (To be
continued)
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