Not long after this post in 2013, I decided that I would try to write a memoir. Two years later, I have read a wide array of memoirs–from memoirs in verse to graphic memoirs to picture book memoirs–and I’ve read books about how to write memoirs, including Handling the Truth and Use Your Words. All that reading, and I have yet to write a word of anything memoir-like beyond the occasional personal anecdote on this blog.
Most recently, my dream of writing my story found me in a memoir writing class. After five weeks of writing exercises, idea exchange, and encouragement, my only progress was adding more titles to my to-read list, including recent memoirs by Ta-Nehisi Coates, Sandra Cisneros, and more. And I’m already on the library waiting list for Why We write about Ourselves: 20 Memoirists on Why They Expose Themselves (and Others) in the Name of Literature, which doesn’t published until January.
Who has time to write when there are all these compelling stories to read?
Until I get all the books read, there’s always this blog, I suppose, for memoirish writing here and there amidst the book recommendations.
