Maybe the issue isn't the honesty we write about people with but our lack of honesty with them in life. Or maybe the permanency of putting things down on paper (or sending them out into digital foreverland) will always rankle. This is a great topic, and there's no right answer. Having been written about successfully (there success, not mine) I will say it has been both a betrayal and a source of pride and joy, unflattering as some of it was.
Yes, the lack of honesty with them in real life; it's this at which I point my pen - it's at the heart of so much. And I've found with some that they've got angry when I have veered toward them, but much much angrier when I haven't, so this last point, where betrayal meets exposure unflattering yet in itself a kind of flattery, which I've only experienced from this side of the page, it's fascinating isn’t it.
I'm constantly thinking, lately..when I am writing about someone..is it like I kill them, a bit-or make them live forever, a bit..or is it both, and one contains the other, somehow?
Such an interesting topic, and I've enjoyed reading the comments and notes others have shared on it. One thing that stood out for me Eleanor was when you said: "What's my motive around transparency and what kind of story am I trying to tell?" which is a great question for the writer, but also the reader as they read the memoir.
The question around "revenge" is also interesting - not a word that would have popped up immediately for me as I read a memoir, but can see its importance, and how it can bring down a piece of writing if it's too centre stage.
Thank you as always for the video - looking forward to more!
Thanks, Ollie. It's such an open-ended question, where to draw the line. We really loved tackling it, discussing it. We could have gone on for much longer. Glad it hit home.
"I have within my heart a shard of glass, I’m surgical in my operation; I dig, I find, I sew up and I’m not interested in the cries of pain unless they serve the story. I have the armour of being at once in the very veins of it and one step removed." Eleanor, I will hold this nugget close.
I just jumped over from Mary's site, where I commented on how much this conversation means to me. It's one I've been having with myself and memoirists who write on writing and anyone else who'll have it with me for a very long time. My concerns about who might be hurt by my version, about the faultiness of memory, about only being able to see things through my eyes and feel them with my body and heart and, thus, having only a sliver to share have allowed me to silence myself for some time. But it's just that, isn't it, that I'm the only one privy to that sliver that means I must tell it if I feel it needs to be told?
It's with gratitude to writers I aspire to, writers willing to talk about their experiences (you fit both), and to myself that I'm moving beyond those concerns to a new understanding. Over the years I've acquired a list of guidelines for myself in my approach to personal writing. And this conversation is already adding more and more nuance to it. Among many pieces, the piece about it's your fault, not theirs is quite freeing. There's something about taking full responsibility for your choices that makes it all the more likely those choices will be guided with wisdom, compassion, and service to the story.
Thank you, Eleanor, Mary, and David. I fully needed these posts.
Dear Holly, I'm so glad you picked out that bit to quote, because it's the truth, isn't it? We are tough. We have a job to do, and we'll do it as compassionately as we can but some stories are painful and we all have to deal with them. And the faultiness of memory - yes, a few times during the memoir I had people ringing me up saying "it didn't happen like that", these things we must make out peace with. I've had moments when I've wanted to say "you're free to write yours" but I don't because they're not writers, and it wouldn't have been fair of me to play that card. But ho hum, the issue is live and it goes on, and I'm so grateful to read your thoughts on this. There is no final answer, is there, rather a piece by piece decision, a series of moments taken in context, a loyalty to one's conscience and who we fight for. Thanks v much for pre -ordering. That makes me double happy.
My first attempt at a novel eight to ten years ago was definitely motivated by revenge/resentment. And I never wrung that out of the text. Writing it may have been therapeutic for me and it may have helped me develop my writing skills, but it was a weak place to write from. That novel sits on my shelf.
So, your advice about compassion over revenge rings true to me. "Round characters," per Forster, always leave room for compassion.
I think this has been one of our favourite issues to get our teeth into, honestly we could have gone on for ages but made ourselves stick to a concise video discussion for the sake of busy lives around us. What draws me most is that is ever an ongoing discussion, it develops, it is faced with each new piece of work. Thanks so much, David, for bringing it to us.
I love every bit of this, especially this gem: "I’m governed less by the need for transparency than for the truth the story demands, and there’s many ways to serve that up which don’t involve throwing someone to the lions."
The Lamott line is also great and timeless, although I'm reminded of Annie Dillard's caution against leveraging memoir to air grievances. One person's truth that the story demands might look an awful lot like a grievance to someone else. For myself, the difference is whether a story serves a purpose larger than my own life. If I can answer that in the affirmative, I feel more comfortable writing into danger zones. Even then, there is potential for harm. I worry about this less for adults in my life than I do about the potential impact on my children.
Another perennial theme for memoirists is fairness. One's own sins must be examined as ruthlessly as others; and any character who is cast in a pejorative light deserves some attempt at balance. This was a delicate negotiation in my memoir, because the religious culture that liberated my parents was the very one that oppressed me. Even so, I felt I had to try to understand what it was like for them as young people to feel they'd found the Holy Spirit. Most readers require some attempt at fairness to trust a narrator -- it's how we signal our awareness that we are unreliable, yes?
Yes, absolutely, and well put, Joshua. I went into that issue a bit more in the video dialogue with Mary. I'm reminded always that a better phrase than "my truth" is "my version". And fairness, a resistance to use the platform as a place to air grievance, I couldn't agree more. It never ends well.
Just reread this. I've saved it for the times when I'm uncertain about why I write and how I find ideas. Thanks, as always, Eleanor.
My pleasure, Jo
Maybe the issue isn't the honesty we write about people with but our lack of honesty with them in life. Or maybe the permanency of putting things down on paper (or sending them out into digital foreverland) will always rankle. This is a great topic, and there's no right answer. Having been written about successfully (there success, not mine) I will say it has been both a betrayal and a source of pride and joy, unflattering as some of it was.
Yes, the lack of honesty with them in real life; it's this at which I point my pen - it's at the heart of so much. And I've found with some that they've got angry when I have veered toward them, but much much angrier when I haven't, so this last point, where betrayal meets exposure unflattering yet in itself a kind of flattery, which I've only experienced from this side of the page, it's fascinating isn’t it.
Thank you for this post
I'm constantly thinking, lately..when I am writing about someone..is it like I kill them, a bit-or make them live forever, a bit..or is it both, and one contains the other, somehow?
Oh that's such a good question. I think it's both.... I'm going to think about that some more....
thank you ..
I've been thinking about it for quite some time, and ...it helps even to share the question..
Such an interesting topic, and I've enjoyed reading the comments and notes others have shared on it. One thing that stood out for me Eleanor was when you said: "What's my motive around transparency and what kind of story am I trying to tell?" which is a great question for the writer, but also the reader as they read the memoir.
The question around "revenge" is also interesting - not a word that would have popped up immediately for me as I read a memoir, but can see its importance, and how it can bring down a piece of writing if it's too centre stage.
Thank you as always for the video - looking forward to more!
Thanks, Ollie. It's such an open-ended question, where to draw the line. We really loved tackling it, discussing it. We could have gone on for much longer. Glad it hit home.
"I have within my heart a shard of glass, I’m surgical in my operation; I dig, I find, I sew up and I’m not interested in the cries of pain unless they serve the story. I have the armour of being at once in the very veins of it and one step removed." Eleanor, I will hold this nugget close.
I just jumped over from Mary's site, where I commented on how much this conversation means to me. It's one I've been having with myself and memoirists who write on writing and anyone else who'll have it with me for a very long time. My concerns about who might be hurt by my version, about the faultiness of memory, about only being able to see things through my eyes and feel them with my body and heart and, thus, having only a sliver to share have allowed me to silence myself for some time. But it's just that, isn't it, that I'm the only one privy to that sliver that means I must tell it if I feel it needs to be told?
It's with gratitude to writers I aspire to, writers willing to talk about their experiences (you fit both), and to myself that I'm moving beyond those concerns to a new understanding. Over the years I've acquired a list of guidelines for myself in my approach to personal writing. And this conversation is already adding more and more nuance to it. Among many pieces, the piece about it's your fault, not theirs is quite freeing. There's something about taking full responsibility for your choices that makes it all the more likely those choices will be guided with wisdom, compassion, and service to the story.
Thank you, Eleanor, Mary, and David. I fully needed these posts.
PS. 65 Postcards preordered. Can't wait!
Dear Holly, I'm so glad you picked out that bit to quote, because it's the truth, isn't it? We are tough. We have a job to do, and we'll do it as compassionately as we can but some stories are painful and we all have to deal with them. And the faultiness of memory - yes, a few times during the memoir I had people ringing me up saying "it didn't happen like that", these things we must make out peace with. I've had moments when I've wanted to say "you're free to write yours" but I don't because they're not writers, and it wouldn't have been fair of me to play that card. But ho hum, the issue is live and it goes on, and I'm so grateful to read your thoughts on this. There is no final answer, is there, rather a piece by piece decision, a series of moments taken in context, a loyalty to one's conscience and who we fight for. Thanks v much for pre -ordering. That makes me double happy.
You guys -- together your written responses and the video are so compelling on the topic, I've written a long note I'm going to share.
My first attempt at a novel eight to ten years ago was definitely motivated by revenge/resentment. And I never wrung that out of the text. Writing it may have been therapeutic for me and it may have helped me develop my writing skills, but it was a weak place to write from. That novel sits on my shelf.
So, your advice about compassion over revenge rings true to me. "Round characters," per Forster, always leave room for compassion.
I think this has been one of our favourite issues to get our teeth into, honestly we could have gone on for ages but made ourselves stick to a concise video discussion for the sake of busy lives around us. What draws me most is that is ever an ongoing discussion, it develops, it is faced with each new piece of work. Thanks so much, David, for bringing it to us.
“They should have behaved better.”
Indeed ❣️
I love every bit of this, especially this gem: "I’m governed less by the need for transparency than for the truth the story demands, and there’s many ways to serve that up which don’t involve throwing someone to the lions."
The Lamott line is also great and timeless, although I'm reminded of Annie Dillard's caution against leveraging memoir to air grievances. One person's truth that the story demands might look an awful lot like a grievance to someone else. For myself, the difference is whether a story serves a purpose larger than my own life. If I can answer that in the affirmative, I feel more comfortable writing into danger zones. Even then, there is potential for harm. I worry about this less for adults in my life than I do about the potential impact on my children.
Another perennial theme for memoirists is fairness. One's own sins must be examined as ruthlessly as others; and any character who is cast in a pejorative light deserves some attempt at balance. This was a delicate negotiation in my memoir, because the religious culture that liberated my parents was the very one that oppressed me. Even so, I felt I had to try to understand what it was like for them as young people to feel they'd found the Holy Spirit. Most readers require some attempt at fairness to trust a narrator -- it's how we signal our awareness that we are unreliable, yes?
Yes, absolutely, and well put, Joshua. I went into that issue a bit more in the video dialogue with Mary. I'm reminded always that a better phrase than "my truth" is "my version". And fairness, a resistance to use the platform as a place to air grievance, I couldn't agree more. It never ends well.
Love this, especially the line about having the armour of being in the veins of it and one step removed. It's a thin line!
It's such a thin line ....