Ask anyone and they will tell you that it is difficult to focus these days. We have more competition for our attention than ever before. Smart phones have truly undermined our ability to enjoy a moment of quiet reflection or creative energy. Rather than helping us to communicate better, they have added a layer of stress and expectation.


When cell phones first came out, a friend hassled me for not getting one. She wanted to be able to reach me anytime of day. On the day she said this, I had been at a place called St. Mary’s Glacier that day on a hike, which is a mile hike straight up to reach a gorgeous glacier-fed mountain lake. My day had been quiet, which allowed me time to think and reflect.   

​Why would I want to carry around a device so that anyone could disturb me whenever they feel like it? The phone had always felt like an invasion of privacy to an extent, because I would never predict when it would ring and break the silence. For a person who spent years in college and has always been a heavy reader and writer, quiet space is not a luxury, it is a necessity.


Today, like everyone else, I have a smart phone, and it is attached to every attention-seeking application on earth. Like everybody else, I have my email and Google on the phone, and I take a zillion pictures of the kids and the cats. I have Facebook, Pinterest, and Instagram—and all of my social media I justify having because I need to stay connected with my students and readers, even though I know that social media is distracting for me.   

And that is what smart phones do to us. They stop us from slowing down. They turn our jobs into 24/7 tethers that drag us back to check for one more work email just in case the boss is up. They sit on our phones and flicker reminders that someone might want to talk to us, so we had better pay attention. They nag at us to keep checking in with the technical world to ensure we are still plugged in, still connected. Back in the olden days, we used to blame the television for our distractions, and it was and is still a distraction, but since the phone fits in a back pocket, its effects are more nefarious indeed.  

So, how do creative people deal with this situation? Do we have to become Luddites and eschew all technology? Do we have to leave our phones behind and maybe even our laptops too since the internet features connected to our computers are no better than those on the smart phone? How does a writer manage the technologies that compete for our attention?


For starters, we have to take control of the situation and accept responsibility for what is happening to us. It can be appealing to fall back on the idea that we lack self-control or that we have lost our ability to focus on a single task. I have heard more and more people suggest that they lack the ability to focus with a tone of resignation. Just because the situation of owning a smart phone creates a challenge of feeling distracted does not mean all is lost.


When we can accept that the phone is not doing anything to us, but rather the outcome of being distracted is the way we are engaging with the device, a solution presents itself. The way we are engaging with the device is the problem, and we can change that.   

​So, what are some ways that we can unplug for short periods of time?

How can we create a space between ourselves and the devices that take up our attention? That space should be physical space and mental space. When we physically separate ourselves from our devices, our attention moves elsewhere. It may take a few minutes to realize the calm that comes from being away from the device, but that space allows us to decide how we can organize our personal space in a different way.


We also need to consider the mental space that we need from our devices. The panic some people feel when they do not check their email accounts or social media feeds creates a fear of missing out condition which makes them feel like an amazing party is happening and they were not invited. Taking a break from that level of stress gives a person the ability to reconnect with their own thoughts. Instead of worrying about what everyone else is doing, a writer can finally take a moment to breathe and to think. Writers need quiet, reflective time to be able to compose quality pieces.


If we are constantly pulled into devices that take our attention away from our creative projects, then where will we get the energy to be able to write at all? If we can recognize that the connection to devices is one that we have to take charge of and control, then we can redefine the way we interact with the devices and take back the quiet space we need to create.


While you are thinking about how to use your device in a different way, take steps to create more space between you and your devices.


1. Turn off the phone
2. Put the phone in another room or in the car
3. Turn off the internet router or the internet key on the laptop
4. Leave the house to write and leave the phone and laptop behind
5. Schedule specific time during the day to write. Turn off all devices during this time.
6. If you cannot write at home, then leave the house. Go to a cafe, a restaurant, a library—any place where you can write and focus without your devices.
7. Set up a partnership with another writer, reader, or creative friend. Meet up to write together and monitor each other so that neither of you are getting distracted by a device.
8. Create a rewards system for your writing time. When you meet your daily goal (word count or time on task), then give yourself the reward that appeals to you—a latte, time to watch TV, time on your device goofing off, etc.


Writers can be distracted by the features that our modern devices offer, but we do not have to be affected by them. We can redefine the way that we connect to our writing by creating more time to write. We can choose to redefine the way we interact with our devices and make a better space for our writing. Because the more uninterrupted time we have to write, the more writing we do, and the more productive we are as writers. Unplug and write.

Unfortunately, I got to find out this one the hard way.  While saying goodbye to my exhausted laptop, it crashed while I was in the process of backing up my files for transfer.  Although I am reasonably good at backing up my files on a regular basis, my desktop had new files that are now gone.
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At least a dozen short stories and two academic articles as well as an annotated outline for a nonfiction book were among the losses—around a hundred hours of writing disappeared in an instant.  

Like any writer, I was devastated to watch the writing disappear into the ether as the proverbial blue screen of death popped up.  $200 later and not a single computer geek on earth was able to retrieve the files. They were just gone. 
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My first thought was of Anne Bradstreet, believe it or not.  In her poem, “Verses Upon the Burning of Our House” from 1666 when her house burned in front of her and she lost everything.  Thinking of losing the whole house definitely lessens the blow of losing some files. Yes, I lost writing that I have been working on for the last couple of months, but I do not have to rebuild my life, just the words on my pages.
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As writers, we hold onto our words in a different way than other hobbyists.  Think of another hobby—woodworking or knitting. If I am knitting a sweater and it turns out horribly because the wool is stained after I started using it to make a sweater, I accept defeat and move on.  If the wood pile that I use as my store get soaked overnight and I run out of good ash or oak for finishing the dresser I am building, then I accept defeat and move on. We seem to recognize that when we engage in a creative activity, there may be setbacks and those setbacks are acceptable. 
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When we write, those words feel like a basket of butterflies—precious, delicate, and fragile.  One harsh wind and they could be gone forever. For a variety of reasons, when we write, the activity is so personal, so connected to our development and revelation of self, and so real and true that to lose words can feel like the loss of a part of ourselves.  

And yet, we kill our darlings every time we engage in the writing process.  With each edit, we replace a favorite phrase with a better fit, even though we may be less emotionally connected to it.  We cut whole paragraphs and whole pages to hone the rough edges of stories and make them clearer. Every time that we approach writing, the editing process is part of our thoughts.  
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Words are temporary.  Yes, the process of writing is therapeutic, it is restorative, and it is trans-formative.  When we write, we become writers. We become not just craftspeople but masters of the art of literature; our thoughts, feelings, hopes and intentions all get wrapped up in packages of words that we long dearly to share with the world.  

Our words hold meaning beyond what they say about your chosen topics.  They hold meaning in that they proclaim who we are—essayists, memoirists, novelists, and poets.  Our writing is more than writing, rather it is a definition of self and a clarification of personal and professional purpose.  ​

​Most novice writers view themselves as active in their craft, regardless of how frequently they write.  When we spend a week or a month or a year not writing, we are still loosely engaged in the writing process by reading, taking classes, and thinking about writing.  Although those activities may not equate to putting words on the page, they are necessary to cultivate a healthy creative mindset to write.

But at the end of the day, writers write.  And writers who write infrequently are less likely to meet their personal and professional writing goals.  Regardless of whether one’s goals are to write a series of love letters to a spouse or to write the next bestselling novel, writers need to put words on the page to make progress toward their writing goals.

Many of the professional writers recommend writing every day, 7 days a week 365 days a year.  Stephen King’s non-fiction book On Writing is a popular read with novice writers.  King covers his development as a writer and the tools he uses to crank out a minimum of a novel a year. 
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​“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There's no way around these two things that I'm aware of, no shortcut.”

Most writers produce a lot of terrible writing and a little bit of high-quality writing.  The time spent producing the terrible writing is part of the process that opens us up to the possibility of creating the good stuff that we want to share with our audience.  We need the time and space to practice our craft. 

“Good description is a learned skill, one of the prime reasons why you cannot succeed unless you read a lot and write a lot. It’s not just a question of how-to, you see; it’s also a question of how much to. Reading will help you answer how much, and only reams of writing will help you with the how. You can learn only by doing.”
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​Although writing takes time out of the day, and setting aside that time can be challenging for many writers, daily writing is the path to successfully meeting one’s goals.  Writers do not improve their abilities without engaging in a regular writing routine, and for many people that means writing every day.  Just as we take our professional careers seriously and take part in professional development, pursuing advanced degrees, and keeping up with the research in our field, that same level of seriousness is needed to write well. 

“I like to get ten pages a day, which amounts to 2,000 words. That’s 180,000 words over a three-month span, a goodish length for a book — something in which the reader can get happily lost, if the tale is done well and stays fresh.”

OK, King produces a lot of writing and functions beyond the realm that most of us are able to do and only a few of us could keep up with his pace.  This is true, but all writers can engage deeply in the writing process.  Even though most of us will never write 2,000 words a day, we can write 200 words a day or even 50 words a day.  The key element of writing every day is more about connecting with one’s writing on a daily basis as much as it is about writing a lot of words on the page.  
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​So, how does the novice writer improve one’s writing practice without becoming overwhelmed by King’s high expectations?  Think about it this way, King writes for a living.  He doesn’t pack a lunch, take the train an hour each way to work, sit at a desk for ten crushing hours, then commute home before despairing that his children are growing up without him.  He writes for a living.  Most of us do not have that luxury.  So, for a writer whose sole professional obligation is to write and support his writing (i.e., marketing, speaking, and engaging his readers, etc.), for him the time is easier to schedule. 

For those of us who work full time, volunteer in our communities, raise children, and live generally chaotic lives, 2,000 words a day may feel like an impossible task and for many, it may feel like a goal so lofty it isn’t worth attempting.  So, adjust the goal. 

If King writes 2,000 words a day, what can your schedule manage?  Can you swing 500 words a day? 200 words a day?  50 words a day?  At just 50 words a day, a write would pen 18,250 words a year, which is a quarter of a novel.  Pick a goal that is manageable and works for you.  You do not have to be King to be successful.  
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​For me, I work on my writing every night for one to two hours before bed.  My family falls asleep around 8pm and I stay up in the living room and write until 10pm.  On a good night, I can write 1,000 words in two hours, but usually I am closer to 400-500 words a day.  As well, I spend that time editing, revising, submitting my work to publications, editing my writer friends’ pieces, backing up my writing, and researching ideas. 

Regardless of what specific task I focus on each day, I focus on the writing process and the task at hand.  Just spending this amount of time on my craft daily makes me feel successful because I am making consistent progress towards my goals of completing my writing projects. 

So, if you are not writing on a daily basis, what is the hold up?  Can you carve out 15 minutes a day?  30 minutes a day?  Maybe you can set aside more time than that?  Writing on a daily basis keeping your writing mojo flowing and helps you maintain a high level of creative energy to put towards your work.  And the consistent practice can go a long way to raise your confidence level and will certainly improve your writing skills over time.  So, if you are not writing every day, start.  

Over the last 20 years I have taught writing to people from the age of 12 on up, and one thing that novice writers have in common is a true desire to become better writers.  One of the things I appreciate so much about new writers is their drive to improve their abilities.  We can all learn a little more and become better writers if we are willing to follow the formula.  

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The formula for improving one’s writing is surprisingly simple.  First, read every day.  Next, write every day.  Finally, open yourself to change.  That may come across as an oversimplification of a revered profession, but for anyone who wants to be a better writer, these are the steps. 
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“Just write every day of your life. Read intensely. Then see what happens. Most of my friends who are put on that diet have very pleasant careers.” Ray Bradbury

“Be ruthless about protecting writing days, i.e., do not cave in to endless requests to have “essential” and “long overdue” meetings on those days. The funny thing is that, although writing has been my actual job for several years now, I still seem to have to fight for time in which to do it.” J.K. Rowling

“If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write.” Stephen King
Yes, the process to improving our writing is simple.  We need to spend time reading, we need to write, and we need to be open to change.  This list brings up some common questions.

Should writers read specific books?

Should writers read books in their genre?

Should writers read books about the writing practice?

Pondering what decisions to make can feel overwhelming, because novice writers have a strong drive to become professional writers.  Writing is their passion, their dream, and their chosen path.  It can feel like one wrong step and the dream will be destroyed, but happily, that is not the case.  As new writers move through the steps by increasing their reading and writing times and open themselves up to change, they activate their own sense of self-reflection, which allows them to hone their practices into a more efficient and personalized experience. 

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Read the books that you enjoy.  If you devour young adult literature, even though you are in your 40s, then read every young adult book you can get your hands on.  Read them, read them a second time, analyze them, and read them out loud.  This will give you not only immense pleasure by reading the books you love, but it will allow you dedicated time to study the specific aspects of your craft.
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You cannot know a genre if you are not interested or willing to allow it to take over your reading life.  So, if you have the idea that you will write science fiction because it sells well, but you are not terribly interested in reading science fiction novels, then get rid of that idea.  Writing is as much about lifestyle as it is about producing a completed story.  Read what you love. 

Yes, definitely.  But do not let that limit your reading.  If you write historical fiction novels set in Medieval Europe, it is perfectly acceptable to read modern Scandinavian thrillers too.  There is no expectation that writers need to limit themselves to one genre or to a short list of writers.  If it appeals to you, read it.  Oftentimes, I find that when an unusual book calls me to read it, I have something important that I need to learn from that book. 
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Over the years, I have met a handful of people who cannot read in their writing genre while they are writing a larger project (like a screenplay or novel).  I have only heard of a handful of people who say that reading in their writing genre alters their writing style and voice.  To correct that situation, they read outside of their writing genre until the project is finished.  Voila, problem solved.  Most writers do not run into that issue, but if you find yourself in an unexpected situation, then be open to change by altering your normal routine to create a better fit for your writing.  

Absolutely.  Every writer should be reading about how to write, and there is a hefty list of books available on the subject.  If you have a mindset of being open to change, then you realize that everyone has something to learn, and none of us were born perfect writers.  Many writers do not realize the array of books available on how to write, but these books can be a game-changer for many novice writers.
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Eudora Welty, Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Anne Lamott, William Zinsser, Natalie Goldberg, Annie Dillard, and Julie Cameron all published books about the writing process.  These books offer tips and tricks on improving one’s writing habits, reflections on the writing process, and stories of what inspired people to pursue writing—as both a hobby and a career. 

So, when you look over your writing practice, where can you make an adjustment for a small improvement?  Perhaps if you are not reading at all, you can add in 15 minutes a day of dedicated reading time?  Or if you are limiting your reading to magazine articles, you can change your focus to books.  If you want to write better, you have to put in the work to make that happen, but reading, writing, and being open to change is natural for most writers.  Sometimes, we just need a little nudge to get ourselves on track. 


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​Have you noticed that everything comes back into style again?  Those platform shoes you sworn no one would ever want to wear made a comeback.  So did polo shirts, motorcycle jackets, and cropped jeans.  Not only do clothes make a comeback, but activities do too.  Hula hooping becomes exciting again every few years.  Cruising is being embraced as a way to bring communities together, when it used to be outlawed as a public nuisance.  If you have not noticed, knitting, wool spinning, gardening, making model planes, and keeping chickens are all back in style.  
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​When people think about what parts of their lives to write about, sometimes they think there is nothing exciting enough to captivate a reader.  Sure, maybe you can write about a few good vacations, offer some advice about saving money, and make a suggestion to find true love, but do people really want to read about your life?  To some people, it seems like the popular memoirs are about people who had miserable lives and experienced pain and loss.  What about the everyday life well lived? 
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​Your potential memoir readers are all around you.  Your niece who just finished college is desperate for good advice on how to start her career.  Your son who just had a third baby is uncertain how to keep his marriage strong while managing the complexities of parenting.  The people at your local knitting/motorcycling/kayaking/volunteering club want to more about your interesting past. 
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The people around you are all potential readers for your memoir, and they want to know about you.  You may not realize it, but people are interested in your thoughts, opinions, experiences, and observations.  The unique experiences that make you a fascinating individual are what people want to read.  The essence of the memoir genre is connection between the reader and writer; the reader wants to know more about the writer as a person. 

​The answer to this question is really another question—how do you spend your time?  We tend to spend our time engaged in the activities that interest and fulfill us the most.  The moments when we get lost in a project and hours go whizzing by are the ones to write about first. 
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Do you tinker on your car and find that an afternoon has flown by?  Does the thought of developing your own software program send you down a rabbit hole where no one will hear from you for days?  How about gardening?  Do you find that you skipped lunch and dinner while working in the garden?  Or is constructing an intriguing sonnet the activity that pulls you in for hours?  

Whatever your activities of choice are, write about them.  This is one of the best places for a writer to begin the memoir-writing process—write about what you love, what pulls you in, and what captivates your attention.  Any passion that engrosses you will inevitably engage your reader as well.  Write what you know, and write what you love to do. 

The way you choose to spend your time, whether it is traveling, woodworking, or ice skating, is a great starting topic for your memoir.  What you have been doing for years or even decades can become fascinating reading for your audience.  

​Be careful about looking at your life as old-fashioned, dull, or uneventful.  Keep in mind that what is old is new again, because young people are always looking backwards for good advice before they move forward.  So, the years you spent knitting blankets for babies in need will make for an incredible memoir piece.  Your audience wants to know what made you want to knit in the first place, how you learned the process, what tools you prefer to use, and what suggestions you have for new knitters, as well as why you engaged with knitting and continued doing it for years, and what goals you accomplished by knitting.  
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​Start writing about your activities by answering questions about them.  What about this activity was interesting to you before you started?  How did you get started?  Did you have any goals or intentions when you began?  Did you have dreams of turning your activity into a career? 
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Once you started into your activity, what kept you going?  Were there experts in the field who inspired you to excel?  What successes did you have along the way?  What about the activity appeals most to you?  Why do you spend time at this activity?  What does it give you in return for the time you spend on it? 

Have you mentored any novices in this activity?  If so, did you find that teaching it was as rewarding as doing the activity itself?  Have you shared your knowledge in a book, lecture, or workshop with others?  What are your current goals with this activity and what are you learning about it now? 

Writing about ourselves can feel a little awkward at first.  You may sometimes feel like your activities might not be interesting or may even be old fashioned, and because of that, they may turn off a reader.  But keep in mind that everything old is new again, and everything that used to be popular comes back into style.  Young people and readers genuinely are interested in what you are doing, because the central idea of memoir is that it is about making the connection between reader and writer.  Memoir is about understanding a person—the writer.  Readers want to understand what you are all about—whether those readers are your close family and friends or whether they are a million reader audience of people you have never met. 

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Many writers have a memoir sitting in the back of their heads; they leave their personal stories packed neatly in the boxes of their minds to be unpacked someday.  The drive to pass on our knowledge is a strong one that many people identify with, especially as they age. 
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For people who write occasionally, or who do not consider themselves to be writers at all, there is a keen interest in collecting personal stories to share with future generations.  Everyday people—farmers, accountants, and furniture salespeople—all have stories to tell.  Where were they born?  How well did they get along with people?  What inspired them?  What were their hobbies?  What did they value? 

We all have a story to tell—practiced writers and non-writers alike.  Our stories are what make us who we are, because they help us to define our experiences through the lenses we use to process our adventures.  Everyone has stories to share, and now is the time to start writing your memoir.  

​Writing your personal stories helps to make sense of events from the past.  With time and maturity, the process of looking back at the past can be easier for many people.  Writing about your life events can support a more accurate sense of when different things happened, who was involved, and what the outcomes were.  By writing about your past, you develop context for it, explanations for what happened, and recognize outcomes that you could not see at the time.  
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​Oftentimes, when a person begins jotting down the details of a life well lived, some of the bits and pieces seem to have fallen out of view.  The process of collecting information about the past—brainstorming, taking notes, writing down memories, and composing whole stories—they work together in a way that improves your memory.  After working with the writing process, even if all you do is jot down notes of what you remember in the moment, new details emerge.  A person’s memory improves by practicing remembering.  The sights, sounds, shapes, and textures in events become clearer.  The events from your past can become clearer and you can remember more just by writing.  
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When you were young, did people make fun of your name, kick sand in your eye, or play jokes on you?  Most people experienced some kind of sophomoric behavior from their peers, and in many cases it takes a bite out of one’s self esteem.  No one likes being belittled, but luckily, people grow up and most of them learn how to behave.  Happily, most memoirists find that when they write about the sad events from the past, the pain dissipates and their confidence increases.  Writing about the past allows writers to know that past events happened but the marks they left were temporary.  Today is a new day that can be lived with full confidence.  
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​When we write about the past, we can process the details of earlier events and judge those involved from a distance that allows us to be less emotional.  We can make peace with our pasts by writing about those times.  Research dating back to the 1980s consistently demonstrates that writing about one’s past events, including the challenging times, encourages writers to dig deep into the closets overflowing with skeletons and write every word.  We can rewrite events to include sections on: what I wish I had said, if I had the chance to do it all over again, and the three changes I would have made.  This allows us to take charge of the incidents of our lives and rework them in a way that we can make peace with them.  
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​If I could relive any events from my life, it would be the birth of my children.  Those days were the most emotionally overwhelming, physically exhausting, and exhilarating episodes of my life.  I could write and rewrite and write again the details of the pain and anguish and joy and love from those awe-inspiring moments.  We all have days that would be heavenly to be trapped within.  If you could just relive your best days on Earth.  Writing lets you do that.  It lets you relive the past, it lets you reconnect with the red letter days, and it lets you capture the mindset, the vision, and the memories of the most beautiful days of your life.   
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​What do reader want to read?  What readers want is to connect to other people through the magic of story.  They want to get to know the writer, the want to know what happened, and they want to uncover the truth.  When a reader chooses to pick up a memoir, they are seeking out the answer to who the person is.  Readers want to read deep, personal narratives.  They want to know about your life. 
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​People who grow up with a clear understanding of their family tend to be more certain of who they are.  They know where they come from and seem to have an easier time figuring out where they are going.  When grandparents, aunts and uncles, and family friends take the time to collect their personal stories, they are helping young people to establish an understanding of who they are in the world.  Personal stories build confidence for the writer and the reader.  
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​People sometimes think that memoirs are only interesting if they are about extraordinary events like climbing mountains or great discoveries.  Not true.  Not only have historians used the journals, letters, and personal stories of everyday people to establish what happened during historical events, but so do other people.  Gardeners learn different techniques by reading the journals of the last generation’s green thumbs.  Fashion designers read the notes from last century’s seamstresses to understand intricate stitching.  And grandchildren recognize where their love of antique book collecting or bird watching came from by reading the personal stories of their ancestors. 
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​Young people spend a significant amount of time figuring out who they are as individuals.  They wonder if they are like their parents or their grandparents.  They are curious where their dominant traits and viewpoints came from and whose lives they can emulate to be happy.  Young people are on the hunt for themselves and are desperate to find deep personal connections within their friends and family. 

When an adult takes the time to share personal stories, they create a pathway for young people to follow as they search for themselves.  Memoir narratives help young people seek out connect, understand their value, and decide who they are and who they want to do.  The young people in your life: children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and family friends need your stories to feel whole. 
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​Yes, memoir writing can be therapeutic.  Yes, memoir writing can be personally fulfilling.  Yes, memoir writing can help improve memory, can resolve old grudges, can increase confidence and self-esteem, and can help readers connect with the memoirist.  Memoir writing is a multi-layered genre that supports our personal and creative development on so many levels.  And at the end of the day, it is just good fun.  People who collect personal stories and write their memoirs reflect positively on how much they enjoy the process and how much they gained from it.  Not only is it good for you, it is awfully fun.  

​A few years ago, I stopped sharing stories with some of my family members.  Although they were well-intentioned, a couple of people in my life insist on critiquing my memory of stories from childhood.  Instead of listening to the story and appreciating what I remember of it, they instead dedicate their energy to listing off the 547 reasons that my memory stinks because I remember my step-dad’s truck as white instead of red.

After being interrupted and criticized on several occasions, I gave up trying.  Why would anyone want to share their memories with people who lack interest and curiosity?  No writer wants to sit in that corner.  Writing memoir pieces, whether they are individual pieces or collective pieces, is deeply challenging work for any writer.  The reflective aspect of memoir writing requires an inner strength to be able to identify memories worth preserving, self-evaluate events for their value, and compose those events into a logical format that others can relate to. 

Yet, any memoirist faces the criticism from multiple directions.  Many writers, in any genre, tend to hold out considerations on how their work will be received while holding up a protective barrier around their work from the world’s exterior criticism.  The balance is a challenge.  
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​To be able to write memoir, some writers need a bit of distance from the other people involved to be able to capture their authentic memories from their own viewpoint.  Getting enough mental space can be the first step; accepting that not everyone will agree with one version of the truth is another. 

What memoirists need is a code of affirmation to lean upon during those days when Aunt Maisie lists the 42 ways you got your facts mixed up, because obviously, her memory is much superior to everyone else’s recollections.

Memoirists need a bill of rights—a list of certain truths that support the intense work that memoir writing requires; memoirists need a solid, certain guarantee that no matter how many nails are bitten away during the hours spent dedicating personal recollections to paper, that the story will hold true.  We need a bill of rights, because writing about our lives is gut-wrenching work that musters bravery by the bucketful.  
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​Look at today’s memoirs.  What would have happened if the man, abused as a child, decided that his years of torture at his parents’ hands had no merit in the literary world so never bothered to write it?  What if the Civil Rights leaders from the 60s left their memories in the dust and left the rest of us to guess how they felt standing against an impossibly-powerful opponent?  What if the women of math and science chose to leave the past behind by pretending they were secretaries and not experts?  Every person has amazingly interesting stories to share.  No matter if a life was spent on the battlefield, in the wheat fields, or having a field day, our stories matter. 
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​The first thought that many memoirists grapple with is—what will happen when people read my story?  People’s past emotions of shame, guilt, and blame burst to the surface.  Sometimes writers worry how readers will react to a story or how a story may be taken by an unbiased public.  As writers, we tend to worry more than necessary, because readers overwhelmingly applaud the bravery it takes to document one’s personal stories.  
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Readers choose to read a memoir, whether a short narrative from a family member or a book-length piece, because they want to delve into the life of someone else.  By touching the lives of other people—farmers, politicians, and refugees, we learn more about the human experience.  Readers want to read the story of you—the story of hitchhiking in the rain, the story of wrecking a motorcycle in the mountains, and the story of walking away from endless days of punching the clock. 
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​Just because your sister, father, the next-door neighbor, or some schmoe from down the street remembers a story differently means nothing.  Your story is your story.  Your memory is under no obligation to match anyone else’s recollections of events.   
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​Sometimes a writer may assume that their personal stories aren’t interesting to other people and that people only want to read about the rich and famous.  Not true at all.  Readers crave connection and desire getting in touch with the depth and breadth of humanity by seeking out unique stories.  The tales of a farmer overcoming all odds in the age of industrial farming is a story with promise.  It contains the possibility for struggle, dedication, family love, and connection to the earth.  A memoir is more than a string of events, and therein lies its power; it is about the genuine experiences of people.  
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​Writing serves many purposes.  It is a pathway to pulling out the skeletons in the closet and sending them to live elsewhere; writing is a pathway to healing.  Writing helps writers organize their thoughts.  It helps writers make sense of the world, of the people around them, and of their lives.  Writing allows writers to play with ideas and wrestle with the challenges we all face—emotionally, physically, and mentally.  When we write memoir, we gain perspective on our own experiences.  We learn and grow from the experience of writing memoir. 
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​Your stories are valid and valuable.

People want to read your personal stories.

Be yourself.  People want to read about you.

Your memories do not need to match anyone else’s memories.

If a story is important to you, it will be worthy to your readers.

The writing of a memoir should benefit the writer as much the reader.

Good writing comes on its own schedule, so write when your stories are ready to be recorded.
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Some people feel uncomfortable writing about themselves.  The idea seems a bit egotistical that one person has a story so valuable that it needs to be captured, and the idea of sharing that story may feel even more uncomfortable.  Humans are judgmental creatures so many of us shy away from sharing the personal elements of our lives too freely. 
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It may feel that way for some people, but readers want that personal connection that comes from a personal story.  The personal story is where genuine, deeply-valuable writing can germinate.  Don’t believe it?  Imagine this.  What is you had a copy of your grandfather’s story of meeting your grandmother?  What if you had a copy of your great-aunt’s story of immigrating to escape hardship in her home country?  What is you had a copy of your cousin’s story of battling cancer before he succumbed?

You probably get the point.  Our personal stories do not have to be perfect, they do not have to be publishing-worthy, and they do not have to be prize-winning to be the most valuable stories in our lives.  If I had a copy of my grandfather’s story, no matter how many spelling errors it contained, it would be one of my most prized possessions.  Just the thought of having something he wrote that was deeply impacting for him would heighten its value; that is the effect a personal story should have.

Yes, when we write about ourselves, we may feel self-conscious, but the outcome product of a personal story and the powerful effect that story can have on our intended audience can have a considerable effect.  The potential of the personal story lies in its pathway to connect reader and writer together by revealing intimate details about the writer in a manner that elucidates the writer’s quality as a person. 

As with many pieces of writing, getting started can be the hardest part.  Brainstorming what to write about, the details to include, and the tone to employ tend to come freely, but that first line can allude the most competent writers.  

Rhetorical question

The rhetorical question can be one way to start a personal story.  The question without an answer tends to attract and involve readers from the first line, because it encourages the reader to engage a curious mindset by asking questions.  Consider these examples to see if this style may work for your piece.  

Why would my beloved brother Ethan push me off a cliff like that?  

What do slugs, snails, and puppy dog tails all have in common? 

Why would Disney encourage princess dresses when astronaut suits were much more comfortable? 

Beginning a personal story with a rhetorical question grabs your reader’s attention from the beginning of the story and puts them into the correct mindset for reading.  

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Surprising Statement

Beginning a story with a surprising statement can be a great way to capture the reader’s attention from the beginning.  It allows the writer to begin the story with a particular tone or viewpoint; humor and irony work well here.

89 million dogs in America and I ended up with the craziest of them all.

If you understand what 40% unemployment looks like, then you appreciate why I worked so hard to leave the city.

Nothing could interest her not the two-headed steer, the world’s largest ball of twine, or even the toilet seat art museum.  Who wouldn’t want to see that? 

When you begin a story with a surprising statement, you can employ data or statistics to make a point or engage a tone to support your story from the beginning. That serves multiple purposes: you capture your reader’s attention, make a statement, and establish tone within a single sentence. 

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6-Word Memoir

The 6-word memoir is a popular tool these days, because it forces writers to distill their message down to its essence.  Ernst Hemingway’s famous 6-word memoir says it all: Baby shoes for sale. Never worn.  Those six words show the reader who Hemingway was, what his attitude on life was, what he valued, and how he viewed himself.  The 6-word memoir can do the same thing for your personal story by giving you a tool to start the story with a bang that grabs your reader from the first line. 

Stopped drinking.  Found life so boring.

Garden all day. Knit all night.

Pushed the limits to reach greatness

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​In a personal story, it is OK to come right out and say what you mean.  Make your point.  Your reader is engaging in your story because they want to make a personal connection with you, they want to see your personality revealed, and they want to learn about life through the lens that you view it.  If you have a point to make: a life observation, an interesting anecdote, or a revelation of a unique personality trait then make your point directly.  Avoid masking your point behind figurative language for your reader to dig out of the story.  A personal story can be highly engaging if the purpose is put on display.  
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​One of the most wonderful aspects of the personal story is that it benefits both the reader and the writer.  The writer uses a reflective form of writing that has therapeutic value to communicate details about one’s life experience.  Research has demonstrated that writing about one’s life has therapeutic value for writers regardless of writing skill.  The reader benefits by making a personal connection to the writer, changing viewpoints by looking through another set of eyes, and expanding a sense of the human experience.  When we write and when we read personal stories, we all grow

Is a Jane Austen novel your cup of tea?  How about an Agatha Christie mystery with a fair number of twists and turns?  Perhaps an Ernst Hemingway short story gets you up in the morning?  What type of story is it that allows you to connect with the storytelling and reading processes? 

As we move through life, thoughts of the literary giants may tug at our heart strings, but at the end of the day, we most love the stories from people closest in our lives.  People rarely walk around telling stories of the literary greats; rather they tell stories of themselves and the people close to them. 

The kind of stories that we hold onto and repeat over and over include tales like: the story of how your parents met, the tale of how you fell into your career, the narrative of how you traveled the world with just your backpack, the stories of your children when they were young, and your thoughts on how you overcame the challenges life threw at you.  These are the kinds of stories that stick with us. 
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When you think about a beloved friend or family member, often the stories are what stand out.  Storytelling is a natural part of how human beings interact with each other, teach their young, and instill a sense of belonging and connection between family and friends.  We tell stories to explain ourselves, create affinity, and build groups, and we absorb stories for the same reasons.  We want to feel connected with those around us. 
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The greatest stories in people’s lives are usually the stories of a grandparent’s journey to a new country, a parent’s struggles through personal challenges, and a friend’s determination to collect rare objects.  Our stories build us up, connect us, and create us.  

On July 4, 2012, my step-dad passed after a year-long battle with liver disease.  A year later, I lost my childhood best friend to the same disease.  Losing the two of them within such a short time period sent me reeling emotionally.  My first and most lasting emotion was regret; I felt like I did not take enough time to communicate with them before they passed, even though I had seen my dad the day prior.

As I processed their losses, I was reminded of events that we shared together.  These memories ran through my mind like a film reel playing nonstop. 

I remembered that my dad watched golf and fishing shows on television.  Typically dads watched football or hockey or soccer, but mine watched golf and fishing, and in fact the television was on all the time regardless if anyone was watching it or not.  He woke up at 3am every morning and sat on the front porch drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes; I am pretty sure that my parent’s coffeepot was never turned off.  He loved our pets more than anything in the world.  My sister had a coffee cup made with a photo of him and the four cats sitting on the couch with the title Cat-Man-Do.  

The stories of my friend similarly ran through my head.  Our first concert was the Psychedelic Furs at Red Rocks in eighth grade.  The next year, we saw Duran Duran open for David Bowie at Mile High Stadium.  For that one, we waited all night for tickets in front of the ticket-selling office; it paid off because we got tickets in row 10.  Her mom dropped off sleeping bags for us to sleep on the concrete bench in front of the shop.  My love of music came from her.  She taught me how to apply mascara, how to combine colors in my outfits, and how to relieve stress through writing. 
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A year after my dad passed, I visited my aunt who told me stories of growing up with him in northern Indiana.  They took a sailboat called The Sunflower onto Lake Michigan as teenagers.  He got his head stuck in a wooden dining chair and the chair had to be hacked to bits by his blind grandmother to free him.  His mother went into labor with him and took a taxi to the hospital; he was very nearly born in the taxi. 

As I heard these stories, I clung to them.  I cherished them.  I started collecting them and holding onto them.  The stories became my lifeline to stay connected with my loved ones.  Even though they may be gone, I could hold their stories in my hands and read them over and over.  So, I began collecting their stories, and over time that process proved to be therapeutic in my grief process.  Yes, they were still gone, but I had a little piece of them to hold onto—our stories.  

There is a positive therapeutic value to storytelling.  When people share stories, they reach out across the void to keep that story alive.  Every culture has a tradition of storytelling, of passing stories from one generation to the next—whether that be oral stories shared through family members or historical tales shared in textbooks, people seek to keep their stories alive. 
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In the process of storytelling, we unburden our minds of the realities of life and organize them in a way that we can make sense of and present to others.  This process gives writers an opportunity to process the events which may have been confusing or full of conflict previously.  When we write, we preserve that which is most important—the memories that make us individuals. 

Though the narratives of the literary greats enlighten and inspire us, the stories from those closest to us are the ones that we hold closest to ourselves.  Those are the stories that we cling tom because those are the stories that speak to us.  They tell us who we are, how we connect, what we value, and how we make a difference in the world.  The greatest story ever told is your own story. 
 

Sometimes I wonder what happens in a writer’s planning that makes it so easy to fall off track.  No matter what our writing goals are, so many of us fall apart at some point down the path.  Essayists get stuck in brainstorming, novelists are overwhelmed with character development, and memoirists lose their mojo half way through a story.

One nasty setback can derail a writing project by weeks or more.  But, every element of life comes with the risk of failing: our professions grind us down, our kids forget to eat their veggies, and our waistlines expand with each slice of pizza.  So, why do we push through the everyday challenges of life but find it so much harder to stick to a writing routine?
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Having worked with writers as an instructor and coach for 20 years, I believe that a poor plan sloppily executed will sink any writer’s dreams.  OK, so if it takes a poor plan and sloppy application to ruin a writing practice, what exactly does that mean?  Take a look at a few of the ways that a writer, any writer, can derail their dreams. 

Avoid Reading

I genuinely cannot make sense of writers who do not read.  That is up there with chefs who do not eat, tailors who do not wear clothing, and skiers who do not like snow.  How does a writer not read and expect to be able to write?  I really do not understand.

Strangely this phenomena is fairly prevalent.  I meet writers who have something to say but are unwilling to read the messages shared by their contemporaries.  Due to the complications of modern life: pervasive technology, busy schedules, and lacking creative communities, some writers can hide under the idea that their messages are paramount in importance in the literary world.

There is no settled rule about what writers should read, but avoiding reading altogether is a certain step on the road to failure.  Failing to read separates a writer from the writing community.  Writers who fail to read fail to make an effort to connect with the greater community of writers, fail to observe what good writing looks like on the page, and fail to open themselves up to the growth process to be had from the writing process.  Writers who do not read will not write for long or successfully.  

Avoid Writers
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Books, films, and stereotypes have created a popular image of a writer as a tortured artist who types away in a grimy basement apartment into the dark hours.  We have bought into the idea that writers are socially anxious, awkward, and even anti-social creatures.  We tend to think of a writer as a lone wolf without a single friend to provide comfort and understanding. 

Nothing could be further from the truth.  Some writers take time away from the noise of life to attend a writer’s conference or to spend a couple of days working on a book project.  But overall, writers a highly social, caring creatures.  If writers did not care so much about the world, we would not write, because one of the reasons that we write is to make a difference. 

Writers who connect with other writers are not only better connected professionally, but they are better supported in their communities.  Writers who pound away in the dark room of loneliness are missing out on the opportunities of local workshops, writing mentorships, and courses that can help them develop their skills.  Writers who avoid other writers are missing out on one of the best methods of keeping the mojo flowing.  

Avoid Accountability

I’ll write when the feeling moves me. 

I’ll write when I get around to it. 

I’ll get to some writing later on. 

I don’t feel like writing today.  

Have these words ever escaped your lips by chance?  Regardless of what genre we choose, writing can be hard work, and for some people, when the work gets hard, they tend to avoid the task.  When we avoid that which is hard, we leave the paths that lead to our goals.  Writing a novel, a series of articles, or a letter to a friend can be incredibly hard work.  Writing is an activity that pulls from every energy source people have: the emotional, physical, mental, and philosophical.  It takes a lot of grit to write. 

Without accountability, would we show up to work on time, stop ourselves from eating a second slice of cake, or bother heading to the gym?  Perhaps not.  But we know that we could lose our jobs, gain a few pounds, or lose our health muscle mass if we do not follow through. 
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Writing is the same.  Writers need some kind of accountability.  Sure, there are some people out there who are doodling on napkins, jotting down stories during the commercials, and cranking out novels at breakneck speed, but most of us need at least a little nudge to stay on the path. 
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Create accountability by working with a writing partner and sharing with each other what you accomplish.  Join a local writing group, especially one that expects you to write in between meetings.  Attend writer’s workshops; these are available both in person and virtually.  Keep track of your daily word count and set goals around how much to write on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis.  

Avoid Taking Chances
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Ineffective writers stick close to their comfort zones.  They avoid trying new things, they push mentorship and challenge away, and they spend an amazing amount of time making excuses for not meeting their goals.  They do not take chances. 

A few years back, a friend of mine shared a novel idea.  I offered to be a writing partner so that we could encourage each other and gave her some ideas of how to use the writing process.  She then spent the next three years complaining about how I got her off track, and in those years, she made no progress on her novel.  

As writers, our craft makes life an ongoing challenge, because no matter what is happening in our lives, we still have the drive to put words to paper.  And considering that a novel can easily take a year or more to compose, sometimes we may feel like avoiding challenge may be the easier path. 
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Writers cannot know how well they write poetry if they do not take the chance to sign up for a poetry workshop.  They cannot consider their options with a memoir if they vehemently stick with short stories.  And they cannot improve their skill sets without considering working with a mentor or editor. 

We all get stuck in a rut now and then, and we are all challenged by the intricacies that the writing life has to offer.  But at the end of the day, we still want to write; the drive to write is what makes us writers.  So, if being a successful writer is of interest to you then, read, connect with other writers, hold yourself accountable, and take chances in your writing practice.  You do not know what you are made of until you push yourself.