Books to Read

When my brother and I give presentations to others on writing their memoirs, we usually have a handout that mentions a number of good books to read on writing.

Your Life as Story, by Tristine Rainer, is a fabulous book. It gave me a great deal of encouragement and inspiration to forge ahead when I was only a wannabe writer--at a time when I needed all the encouragement I could get.

On Writing Well, by William Zinsser is another good book. It offers the type of help a person needs to know inorder to write well. I originally got the book from the library to read, but after I read it, I purchased it so as to have it on hand as a reference book when I needed it.

Another book I found most helpful once we had finished our book was Your Novel Proposal from Creation to Contract, by Blythe Camenson and Marshall J. Cook. This book is indispensable when it comes to writing query letters and synopses.


And a book that I highly recommend, although it is not an advice type book, is The Education of Little Tree. This is a memoir type book that the author claimed was non-fiction, but it was later proved not to be true. While my brother and I were at Barnes & Noble for a book signing and a discussion of memoir books, their representative asked whether knowing that The Education of Little Tree was not true made any difference in the way we thought about the book. I was quick to respond that it made no difference to me whatsoever. Any book that can bring about such emotion and feeling as this book gets a five star rating from me whether it's true or not. It is the only book that I continue to purchase again and again to give away to others--not because of what is said, but how it is said. It is a book I never tire of reading.

Writing Contests

Until I entered a few writing contests--and won, I never realized what a confidence builder they were or how excited I could get over a writing award--or honorable mention. The acknowledgements and certificates that I've received remind me that I am a writer. Prior to winning my first contest I had not submitted anything for publication and until then I did not allow myself the privilege of calling myself a writer--a wannabe writer maybe, but not a writer. A writer has to earn the right to call themselves a writer by getting something published; and I found that winning a contest will get you over that bridge just as well. After winning my first contest I no longer felt guilty at the amount of time I spent sitting in front of my computer putting words together and polishing stories. I was a writer. It's what writers do. The writing contests gave me a confidence that until then had eluded me. I prominently display all my award certificates and honorable mentions on the wall by my desk.

The first contest I entered really tested my imagination as well as my writing skills. Everyone was given the same topic to write on, JOB APPLICATION. My first thought was that the topic was just awful. I am a short story, non-fiction writer, who enjoys wit and humor. I was lamenting to my daughter-in-law. "How can I write about something s-o-o-o-o boring? What can I possible say about JOB APPLICATION? It's nothing. It's a piece of paper. She and I digressed over the possibilities.

"What if it could talk?" She said. "What would it say about some of the yahoos that it meets?"

The more we discussed that possibilities the better it got. "I could give it a voice." I said, "a personality with an attitude." We considered some of the more interesting types of people that fill out job applications--motorcycle yuppies, someone just released from prison, know it all high school drop outs. The possibilities were endless. I called my story, The Silent Informer, and I won third place. I was ecstatic. I even made a copy of the check that they sent.

After my book, A Speck In God's Eye, was published I entered it in numerous contests. I was so sure that it would win, or at the very least get honorable mention. A couple of the stories in the book had already won prizes. And there had been so many people, especially men, who said they simply could not put the book down. I was also pleased with the portrayal of our father. He had a distinct personality. He could out swear any person I knew, but he was not a vulgar man--just a colorful character--a story teller in his own right. I was a little unsure how he would come across to others until I heard the following comments:

"Your dad was quite the man. I would like to have known him."

"At first, when I started reading, I said whoa! What's this? But the more I read the more I began to admire your father. He was quite the character."

When I first became aware that our book was not among the winning entries of the first contest I'd entered I was disappointed, but there were other contests, I told myself, yet to be heard from. Out of curiosity I searched for the title of the book that had won first place wondering what it was that captured the judge's interest. What made it stand out in the judge's eyes? Was it the content, or how it was written? When I came upon the title, I was a little put back. The title of the book that won first place was, My Big Black Penis.

Like I said there were other contests that I'd entered as well. And three months later we were contacted by READER VIEWS. Our book, A Speck In God's Eye, had won first place in their Nonfiction--Memoir/biography, Family History category.

Flashbacks

A flashback is a scene from the past that gives the reader further insight to what is going through the mind of the person he is reading about. There is always something that triggers a flashback--a smell, a familiar sight or a remembered comment. In our book, A Speck In God's Eye, there are number of flashbacks. In one particular story the flashback is triggered by a number of things--the glowing headlight beams from my car, a lonely country road and the dark of night. The following two paragraphs are excerpts from the story:

I was on my way home from a late night school board meeting when suddenly the car labored and slowed down. It felt as though I had just dropped anchor. I knew what was wrong. I had a flat tire. I pulled over to the side of the road but I did not get out. I was all alone in the car and it was very dark. It was after midnight. Instinctively I reached over and locked all the doors. I knew all about changing a tire. I had done it many times, but I did not get out. The headlights of the car lit up the road ahead and as I followed the beams of light piercing through the black of night I was reminded of a story my mother had told me long ago.

"One night when I was a teenager," she said, "I stayed too long at a friend's house. It was after dark when I left for home, and we lived on a lonely country road. As I was walking home, the headlights of a car, coming from behind me, lit up the road and then passed by, I watched as the lights of the car slowly disappeared. Then suddenly bright red taillights flared in the darkness, and I watched as the car pulled over to the side of the road and started to turn around. My heart began to race. I was alone. What if they were coming back for me? I turned and ran through the ditch into the hay field and lay down in the knee-deep hay, my heart pounding in my chest."

Obviously there is more to the flashback than what I've printed here, but hopefully you are able to see that the flashback is justified. It doesn't have anything to do with my flat tire, but it puts the reader in touch with my fear. It grabs their attention and because of the similarities of then and now the reader bounces right back to my tire problem all the more eager to know what happens.

Flashbacks can add excitement to a story.

Creative Writing courses

If you have the chance sign up for a creative writing course. You'll always learn something new and exciting. At one creative writing course I attended we were instructed to write a page and a half story. The following week instead of handing in our stories we were instructed to rewrite the story, getting it down to a half page, without changing the emphasis or the point of the story. It seemed an impossible task. I had worked very hard at getting the story to fit onto the page and a half. But somehow I managed and returned the following week with the same story on only a half page. Actually I was amazed at how the quality of my story had improved. There were fewer words but they were more action packed. And the instructor did not stop there. Again we were told to cut the story in half and again after that. I wouldn't have believed it was possible. My story, that had started out as a page and a half, was now down to two sentences. Obviously it was no longer a story, but those two sentences were the most powerful words I had ever written. It was a lesson I have never forgotten--a lesson on tightening a story--telling it with the least amount of words yet dripping with action and emotion.

At another class I attended everyone was asked to start writing and not to stop until we were told to do so. We were to write without pause and on whatever topic we wanted to write on. And periodically the instructor would interrupt and tell us to change our topic. No matter what we were writing, we were to start writing about something else, never raising the pencil from the paper, never stopping to pause or think of what to say. It sounded ridiculous but we all did as we were told. She then asked each of us to read what we had written. It was most interesting. All the readings were interesting. Our minds had no trouble jumping from one topic to another. In fact the abrupt changes didn't seem abrupt at all--more like they were intended to build interest. And that's the point she was making. For the reader to be captivated by your story it should include unexpected happenings and bumps in the road.

I enjoy the variety of people who attend creative writing classes--both young and old. Their interests are so diversified. It never fails to get my creative juices flowing.

Wisconsin Regional Writers

Belonging to a writer's club is great. Creative people are so friendly that just being among them will inspire you. I recently attended a WRWA(Wisconsin Regional Writers' Association) Spring Conference. The speakers were very interesting and the Open Mic (microphone) always intrigues me. Anyone can sign up to speak during the Open Mic, with a time limit of four minutes. The benefits are twofold for the novice writer--listening to other writers read a portion of their work is not only inspiring but, if you read a portion of something you wrote, it will help to build confidence in yourself.

The conferences always have a number of very interesting speakers and they also acknowledge contest winners. One of the participants in the Open Mic was a woman who had a winning contest entry. For the Open Mic she read her winning story. The title was A Tight Squeeze. She said it was a true story about herself--and her car. The woman was in her 60's, maybe older--not that age had anything to do with it--but somehow, as she read, it seemed to enhance her story. Somehow she'd gotten her car parked in her garage so close to the wall that she couldn't move it in any direction. Her husband had already left for work, for which she was thankful--apparently this sort of thing had happened before--her husband, she explained wasn't the most understanding person in the world. We all laughed.

Not only was her story well written, but she read it well. After numerous attempts to get out of her predicament failed she called a tow truck. Voile' she was out. And by the end of the day, what had seemed so frustrating earlier now seemed extremely humorous to her and she decided to share it with her husband, which brings the story to it's conclusion. "Only then did I realize," she said, "that my husband, the old coot, didn't have a humorous bone in his body."

The captive audience was in stitches. She had drawn us in. She didn't just tell her story, but with the use of properly placed dialogue she allowed us to walk in her shoes and feel what she felt. It was wonderful.

The WRWA is a writer's club that anyone can belong to. Check it out on http://www.wrwa.net/ I like it because it doesn't take a lot of my time, there are no regular meetings, just two conferences a year and regular contests to take part in. I can be as involved as I want to or just lay back and read their club newsletter that comes out quarterly.

Let them walk in your shoes

At a recent speaking engagement a woman told me that she liked the way my brother and I wrote because it made her feel like she was right there with us. "You make use of all the senses," she said. "When you write about the food you ate when you were young, I can almost taste it myself."

That's what readers want--to be drawn into your story--to walk in your shoes. This is from a chapter in our book A SPECK IN GOD'S EYE.

Daddy was an avid sportsman. It was common for our table to be graced with wild duck, turtle soup, or fish chowder. My brothers went duck hunting also, and when a platter of those golden brown delicacies arrayed our table, they would pick out the teal, or the mallard or whatever it might have been that they had shot, and relay the exciting event as they remembered it.

Wild duck was referred to as a succulent delicacy, but it was not something you delicately picked at with your fork. The way to eat duck is to grasp it in your hands and break off a piece and bring it to your mouth and savor the flavor.

"And to think," Daddy said, "there's some poor bastard out there wondering where his next meal is coming from, and here we are eating like kings."

Wild duck was not a favorite of mine, and on those particular nights, when everyone else feasted on duck, I had cornflakes for supper, and I wondered if the kings had cornflakes too.

New writers have a tendency to give the facts without realizing the power behind relaying their feelings at the time of the incident. Keep in mind that the reader wants to feel what you feel and to accomplish this you must describe the details of an experience--what preceded it, your thoughts at the time, why it happened, what you did about it--the little things that make it come to life.

While writing our book my brother and I edited each others stories. In one story he wrote that he and his family had planned on spending the Christmas holidays in the Alps before heading to his next teaching assignment in Naples, Italy, but as luck would have it, the car broke down. It was December 22. They stopped at a garage in Augsburg and were assured the car could be made road-ready by the next day. His hopes were high when he picked up the car, but soon disappeared when he attempted to make a left hand turn and the car didn't respond. Back to the garage he went.

Rather than say the car didn't respond we decided on this:

Grasping the wheel tightly between his white-knuckled hands, he pulled down hard on the unrelenting wheel. The car moved laboriously to the left using the entire intersection to make the turn. "Sweet Jesus," he muttered to himself. "What else could go wrong?"

That's what's so great about writing non-fiction. You don't have to make something up. You were there. You experienced it. Rely on your senses to help you to describe it to your readers.

Preserving Family History

Not everyone has the dedication needed to write a book. Do not let that discourage you. There are numerous ways to preserve family history/write a memoir. The first book I wrote was hand written. When my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I wanted to do something special for her, so I took a large post-bound photograph album and bought similar size post-bound scrapbook pages and alternated them in the book. For every page of pictures I had a page to write on. I filled it full of snippets - oft time repeated phrases and remembrances. These are some of the remembrances of my mother. The title of my book is REMEMBRANCES OF GRACE BOLLOM.

We always had exciting holidays. At Easter Ma would hide colored eggs up in the barn. Moisture would form on the eggs after being placed in the cool barn and we were all sure it was because the Easter Bunny must have just laid them.

Pa was so good to us. He always brought us something when he came home from town. We'd be so excited and run to meet him. "I've got something you girls are going to love," he'd say. Sometimes it was sausage and sometimes fat back - that's the fat from the back of a pig. It came in a slab. Ma would fry it down until it was cooked through and when it was cold we would scrape it with a knife and spread the scrapings on our bread. It was so good.

Our horse, Tom, was a pretty smart horse. Tom knew when we went to Grandpa's he'd get oats to eat. he didn't get oats much at home. Tom knew as soon as we turned Brink's corner and got over the hill that we were going to Grandpa's and he'd start running as fast as he could go and we'd be just a bouncing in the back of that democrat wagon.

I use to tease Tom by offering him oats in a bucket and then taking it away. One day he grabbed my shoulder with his teeth, picked me right up and put me down on the other side of him. I never teased Tom again.

These may just be snippets, but put into chronological order along with pictures taken during my mothers childhood opens a window into her personal life and experiences as a child. Followed by other snippets as she grew up, got married and had children, the book became a cherished possession and family memoir. My mother kept it with her at the care center and visitors would often ask her to get it out. It brought back so many pleasant memories and happy times and always gave them something to talk about.

My brother did something a bit different and put together a book for his children and grand children that he called GRANDPA BILLY'S SCRAPBOOK - FAMILY HISTORY, FAMILY STORIES, WIT AND WISDOM. In this book he includes research on family history, both from his side and his wife's side of the family. He included thoughts on a variety of topics. Much of the book is what he calls an ethical will (all his personal wealth) - passing on the experiences and values that have infused his life with meaning.

After gathering the information and pictures, organizing it and making out a contents page, he took it all down to a local publishing company. They copied the pages just as he arranged it - the stories, the newspaper clippings (he included all the editorials he wrote to the local paper) and numerous pictures. He chose a soft cover spiral format and he was able to order as many or as few copies as he wanted.