WONDERFUL! LET’S DO IT! WRITE A MEMOIR!

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THE GENRE

I enjoy a good memoir as a brief respite from psychological thrillers and horror books and have always gone for the human-interest element. What can I say? People and things fascinate me. The idea of writing a memoir, however, hadn’t occurred to me until recently. It seems somehow relevant now in these days of the pandemic, a time when people are still fighting for their rights and their lives.

I’ve oven heard people say, “Certain things need to be kept private.”

Hey, we’re on Facebook and Twitter. The Internet spies. They know what kind of shoes I like. You get messages like, “Don’t you want to give this another look? Come on; we know you don’t have any willpower. Go on. Get it.”

Everything I research for my writing shows up in ads. My character gets injured, and they show me compression wraps.

So, we are living in an age of transparency and accessibility. As an introvert, I never liked that, but I get over it when I’m writing. 

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WHY I WANT TO DO IT

Understanding is critical in the world we live in today. Oh, I know, some people think there’s way too much empathy in the world and that we need to go back to being vicious and cruel. Maybe even with a bit of medieval torture thrown in for good measure. As for me, I like the fact that time has taught us more about humanity. It’s part of evolving as a species. 

The aim of sharing is not to gain sympathy but maybe help shed some light on how certain things develop and how we overcome those challenges even when the odds are against us.

One thing I’ve heard and can relate to as a poet and a writer is, Don’t waste your pain. Life is beautiful and tragic, happy, sad, and everything in between, and, as a poet, I’m here for all of it. The pain is often long gone by the time we relay things in poetry and books, but through the pain we once felt, there’s a collective empathy we feel for people trying to navigate whatever we’ve already sorted out.

Speaking of that, I learn from everyone. If someone doesn’t want to talk about a subject or hear about it, that’s okay. Others may be looking for answers to the questions we once had, wanting to survive and thrive as we managed to do and then become better and stronger.

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WHAT I DON’T WANT TO DO

Some of the memoirs I’ve read have shown me what I don’t want to do. Here’s my shortlist.

  1. A personal grudge memoir – If the book is full of swipes at others for revenge, no thanks! As someone who has been on the receiving end of character assassination attempts, I don’t want to do that to anyone. I think it would hurt my soul more than it would hurt them. Write from your heart.
  2. Get into other people’s stories – Other people’s stories are theirs to tell, not mine. For the most part, I want to make every effort to respect their privacy. I won’t reveal real names (except for mine, but there are still those who would be easily identifiable, so unless I’ve found it necessary to get their permission for one thing or another, their secrets are safe with me.
  3. Name dropping – I’ve lived in New York all my life. When you live in New York, you see famous people. You meet famous people. None of them had anything to do with anything relevant in my life.
  4. List sexual conquests in graphic detail– Just no. Recently, I read a memoir where the author constantly got into what physical characteristics he liked and didn’t like in a woman. What body parts were his favorite, all the intimate details of his sexual prowess. It made me wonder, why am I reading this? What is the focus? Yeah, no. 

I’ll ask my alpha and beta readers to check me on all of that.

And, don’t get me wrong, there are people who read memoirs for all of the above, and they love it, so I’m not knocking it. If that’s your thing, go for it, no judgment here.

WHAT I DO WANT TO DO

Memoirs have a focus, yes, and it’s not just to present your life story like you would in an autobiography. Mine is a story about addiction and recovery (from many things). I am one of the fortunate ones who lived to tell how it went for me—going from victim to survivor and beyond to what we call “surthriver.” That fits because we’re learning to do so much more than merely survive. It would focus on an all-consuming fight for sanity, peace, and recovery. I want to make readers feel like they are right there with me for all of it. But, fair warning, being right there with me is bound to get pretty scary.

And let me tell you, when people say they have no regrets, I’m sure I misunderstand what they mean by that or, perhaps, take it too literally. I can’t imagine not having regrets. Most of us do cause pain, even if we don’t want to, and the one thing I regret more than anything is the people I’ve hurt in my oblivion and ignorance.

Recovery, for me, has also been an ongoing journey toward authenticity, removing the veils layer by layer, discarding the masks. I was told, in recovery, we are only as sick as our secrets. Of course, we are allowed to have secrets. But if your hidden truth has you living a double life or creates a barrier between you and the world, and you tend to compartmentalize aspects of your life as part of the deception, it can make you sick. It can limit your healing. It can impede your goal of authenticity.

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Oh, I’ve revealed my secrets to certain people and groups of people, but some of the struggles weren’t public ones, so, in this case, I will tell the whole story of my recovery. Unfiltered, I hope to include the humor and joy among the tragic madness.

My favorite memoirs have been well-written and inspiring with a powerful message. They are my inspiration. It makes me happy, too, when an author is aware of their patterns and vulnerabilities and seeks answers. That’s how we evolve as humans. The constant transition brings wisdom and strength. Raw honesty combined with accountability helps everyone, especially those of us who have gotten caught in a cycle of self-loathing and self-sabotage at some point in life. There is a need for truth and spiritual courage, as well as a need to remain teachable.

And what is the truth? For me, the truth is what makes sense to you after all your exploration and quest for authenticity. I say it all the time, no group, no matter who, what, or where is perfect. Some have seen the light, and others have yet to see it. Let’s hope they keep looking.

Kyrian Lyndon’s Reviews: The Meaning of Matthew

Ordinarily, even with what appears to be ADD, I can read several books at a time. My curiosity pushes me through. Following a recent injury and long recovery process, however, I found myself unable to get into reading and leaving so many books unfinished.

Then the anniversary of Matthew Shepard’s death came up—an unnecessarily cruel tragedy that affected so many of us. For whatever reason, I realized I wanted to know more about Matthew. Surely, he was more than this gay poster child that people murdered because he was different.

All my life, I’d heard people claim that those who were on a “different” path from what they interpreted as the “right” path are the evil ones. But when you see where hate for those who are different can lead, it’s hard to fathom that there is any worse evil than these self-righteous individuals who are so lacking in empathy.

We don’t need any more evidence, do we? And, yet, if we keep reading, keep watching, keep listening, we witness how unbelievably depraved “humanity” can get.

Still, I wanted to know this story, and, as a mom, I wanted to learn it from his mother—a person who truly knew and loved him.

Judy Shepard said so much in this book without making it, in the least, about herself. She seemed determined that Matthew was the focus, beginning to end, who he was besides that poor baby boy you keep hearing about every October. You think how awful, how sad, but we know so little about him.

Well, throughout this reading experience, Judy Shepard’s honesty floored me. Among other things, she divulged that Matthew wasn’t the saint the media portrayed. With whatever flaws he had, he was also lovable and sweet with a very kind heart. She had loved him wholeheartedly knowing exactly who he was, and this—this is the kind of love we all deserve. Not the type where loved ones put us on a pedestal we can’t possibly live up to, secretly detesting us when we fall short or blindly worshiping us for all the world to see. She knew her child. She knew that different kids had different needs, and, that, even with the heartbreak of specific hopes you have to put aside for this precious being you cherish with all of your heart, acceptance is critical.

Mrs. Shepard wrote this book so intelligently, so lovingly. I read it in just a couple of days, and I couldn’t put it down.

Fortunately, in this storytelling, we also see how beautiful humans can be. During this unspeakable tragedy, many gave their unconditional support to the Shepard family without hesitation and were capable of such unconditional love.

You know, I’ve often heard people say that it’s arrogant for a writer to think he or she can teach anyone by sharing a story. They are so wrong! This book was another reminder to me of how another person’s words, thoughts, regrets, and perspectives can make one stop and think. To feel something like, “I can relate to this or that,” or “Wow, that gave me new insight into something or another.” That is the beauty of reading.

We learn from anyone and everyone, and we are always teaching whether we mean to or not.

So, hopefully, after reading this heartrendingly excellent work of non-fiction, I have opened the mental corridors of my mind that allow for the processing of fantasy realms and old classics that can transport me instantly to the past.

Sometimes, reality hurts too much.