Tag: writing

How to Write Memoir that Rocks

Alice LundyLeave a comment

“I’ve said it’s hard. Here’s how hard: everybody I know who wades deep enough into memory’s waters drowns a little.” ~  Mary Karr, The Art of Memoir

As my old writing professor used to say: “Tell the truth, but make it a good story.”

Truth is nonnegotiable in memoir.

Writing memoir, good memoir, requires going deep into your experiences and your truth.

It’s only your truth, but if you want to bend it, call it what it is–fiction.

As you craft and revise memories, be willing to question yourself–because your readers certainly will.

Deep contemplation and consideration brings intensity, meaning and depth to your memoir.

Without depth, it’s just a story to tell at happy hour.

The art of memoir is in the crafting of the behind the scenes, understanding the unspoken, and sharing insights with your readers without coming off as a know-it-all.

Memoir can be thick with the everyday dramas of life, but it need not be tedious, boring or insulting.

If the writing is strong, it can seduce the reader to turn one more page.

Rich memoir is a map to the reader, taking them on a journey that reminds them of something inside themselves or helps them imagine another life altogether.

Well-chosen memories help us better grasp where we’ve been and we’re going. They serve as mirrors. Not every memory is vital to the story, even if important to the writer.

Solid memoirs awaken readers’ own sense of direction, or at the very least, help them make way for others’ choices.

Memoir that rocks not only reveals the writer’s revelations, but shift the readers’ awareness and understanding.

To write memoir that moves people, you’ve got to allow yourself to be moved, nudged and even shoved by life. You’ve got to live it fully.

There’s no room for surface dwellers in the realm of rich memoir.

Writing of this sort requires the same time and effort other writing does.

Of course, it demands showing up on the page, but memoir writers who earn rapt attention spend time studying themselves, their stories, and their lives.

Memoir writers like Mary Karr or Glennon Doyle know themselves in a way few do.

Much of that knowledge comes from painting words on paper, but memoir is more.

It’s cohesion of memories, ideas, lessons, values and visions. It’s wisdom, not only in the words but in the character of the writer behind the words.

As a memoir writer, I’m out to expose myself—not as a flasher, but as a woman who’s put herself under the microscope, fledged through the darkness and awakened to beautiful blessings.

A memoir writer must not be afraid of the dark, or shining the light on it.

If you want to write memoir, great memoir, dive in, dig deep.

Expose the underbelly of life, but do it in the way that only you can.

Shine your light into your darkness and expose the lessons you’ve learned like a grandfather tells tales on a camping trip with the fire snapping in the night.

Make us lean in.

How to Overcome the Media Madness

Alice LundyLeave a comment

The art of spending time in thought is a dying craft. What is one crafting when she delves into contemplation? Sorting, creating, comparing, conjuring, releasing, cultivating a considering mind. To ponder is not a waste of time. I’m not talking about wallowing, but investing actual mind time in clearing and clarifying for oneself before walking and speaking in the world. Let our words not simply mirror opinion of favored media moguls or what a brother-in-law shared on Facebook.

When did we stop thinking for ourselves and begin begging to be spoon-fed “facts” and ideologies without consideration of the rampant rhetoric and rudeness of our society?

We’re living in reaction. Can you feel it? The defensiveness?

The answer is contemplation. Rather than a plateful of bite-sized news and entertainment bits, what if we chose to spend time in deep contemplation over the multifaceted challenges facing our society and what roles we might play in helping?

Personally, I’m overwhelmed by the world—selling, convincing, soothing, seducing, and manipulating me away from my core.

Contemplation brings me home. What do I think? Why might others think their way? How do I feel? How might others feel? What’s behind this? What are we not seeing? What am I afraid to admit? How can I speak my truth without condemning others? How can I not cower and close down when others dismiss me? How can I be at peace when I feel guilty for sitting in contemplation?

Write Like a Champion

Alice Lundy5 Comments

Decide to step up. A champion is not made by default.

Go into writing the way that you once chased running. Remember getting up at 5 a.m. to run before school? Determine to be a writer in the way you focused on becoming a salesperson, learning presentations and product information and agreeing to opportunity.

It’s time to pour your love into your writing the way the way you’ve doused men with attention. Give your focus, devotion and care to your writing. Take the drama to the page.

Decide to do the work. Stack the bricks of discipline into a solid foundation. Continue developing your craft.

Be your own inner coach. Find what works for you and work it. Time is both your responsibility and your opportunity. No one can do this for you. It’s completely up to you.

People’s opinions, good or bad, stand irrelevant. You’re the only one who can be cruel to your calling. A writer who doesn’t write keeps her gifts from the world.

Decide to dedicate yourself to the giving of your gifts.

If you fall short, no one will know. Except you. You alone will know the extent to which you suffer or come alive.

Your soul knows if you’re talking about writing instead of doing the work. If you were born to be a writer, if it’s your destiny, but you don’t write, your life will ring hollow.

Without writing, if it’s in your blood, nothing will ever be enough. Writing is your livelihood; it awakens you into a new level of being.

It’s not the success or fame that brings you joy. If you’re a writer, it’s the pen to the page, the hands on the keys, and the reader connecting to something you wrote. That’s the reward.

Yet, if you want lots of people to read your words, if you want to influence people through your writing, you can’t just throw it on the page. You’ve got to spin it, shape it, and grind the dust away like a diamond cutter. Then, present your words to the world like an engagement ring to life.

Go after your story like it’s a lover you’re determined to win.

You can’t go into your writing hard and demanding. Sometimes you have to charm its little pants off. Other times, you must hold your own hand to get into your writing. Coax it and seduce it.

Go to your writing. Go through your writing. Be with your writing. Fully present and accounted for. Don’t just write the way a child practices multiplication tables.

Write like your heroes. Imagine the writing habits of Marianne Williamson, Joan Brady, Elizabeth Gilbert, Cheryl Strayed, Dorothy Parker and JR Moehringer. Then, create your own writing rituals.

Honor the doors that have flung open for you. Know the world is conspiring and preparing for your success.

You must do your part so you can meet your destiny when she arrives. You must write like a champion.

When a Student Threatens Murder

Alice LundyLeave a comment

A couple of years ago, I taught technical writing at a community college in Minnesota. What I’m going to tell you about is a rare event for any college instructor. So, of course it happened to me and now I’ll always wonder what happened to that boy.

He leaned in on the second night of class after not showing up for the first. He got too close and told me too much, about his older brother who was mentally challenged and then died while they were both just boys. Andy mentioned living in a half-way house for a while. He mentioned drugs and something about the law. His vague, random, rambling, uninvited words glued my eyes to his, needing him to know I was listening. I cared.

The next day I called the school to get Andy some help, counseling I hoped, but he didn’t show up in class the following week. I worried a bit, but frankly, I wanted to forget.

On the following class meeting, I told him I wanted to get him help. “Let’s just walk downstairs and see if there’s somebody you can talk to.” There wasn’t. It was a night class at a community college. The walk afforded Andy the opportunity to reveal to me that he thought he might be the Messiah, who was definitely coming he said, even if it wasn’t him. Andy then told me he was going to have to murder “those people,” referring to some of his neighbors who weren’t taking him seriously. He told me he didn’t want to kill them but he had to; it was karma.

“Yes,” I said, “That may be true. They might even deserve it as you say, but I’m concerned about you. You’re going to school and improving your life. If you do what you’re saying, you’re going to be living in a cell for the rest of your life.”

“Do you think I’m insane?” Andy asked.

“I think we’re all a little insane at times,” I said.

“Well,” Andy said, “I heard there’s a fine line between insanity and genius.”

“Exactly,” I said. “If we get you some help, maybe you can get to the genius side.”

I didn’t know how to help him that night on our 15-minute break, other than to beg him not to kill anyone, at least for a couple days. I promised him someone would call him tomorrow.

Just to be safe, I slipped a note to one of my students who I knew had firearm and military experience, asking him to walk me to my car after class.

         The following day I called the school counselor. She asked me, “Does this student know if he mentions murder to me I’m obligated to call the police?” It seemed an odd outlook, but Andy said the word to me three times. I encouraged the counselor to try to get Andy to come in and talk to her.

The next thing I knew, the police called me, searching for Andy. I wondered if it was good or bad that they couldn’t find him. He seemed so lost and the image of police swarming him could freak him out even further.

Then, I received a call from the dean of the college. “I understand you have a religious zealot in your class?” What had I brought down on this boy? The dean reminded me of other scenarios like Virginia Tech where security and police hadn’t intervened, the way they would at Andy’s next accounting class. I hadn’t gone too far in calling the counselor. I didn’t stretch the truth. The kid was talking murder. Hopefully, I helped divert disaster. But, could somebody please help the boy?

 

Marketing without Games

Alice LundyLeave a comment

It’s taken me so damn long to start a serious blog. Not that this is going to be sooo serious. Ideally, with divine intervention, Alice in Authorland will inspire you to laugh, cry, think and grow rich with authenticity.

See, I’m a writer. It’s the tattoo my soul entered this world with. But, technical crap throws me into my old math anxiety mentality (hell). My brain reacts like Teflon to the technical .

I love how Danielle LaPorte says, “Technophobe?  Get over it.” I only love those words because I’m mesmerized by Danielle LaPorte’s voice and spirit.

I get her point. It’s like students who say they “can’t” write or “hate” writing. Usually, they had a bad experience.

I spent weeks learning about WordPress and taking a class from an ass who friended me on Facebook and later asked me out. No matter how charming I acted or how often I showed up early or stayed late in order to get real help building my basic writer website, neither of us got what we wanted. He knew I was playing him and I knew he was playing me. Nobody won.

Here’s my secret shame. Long before that class, I earned an MS in technical communication. Ooh! Ahh! I must be smart! Honestly, for every elective, I selected creative writing.  In the actual technical classes, we worked in groups which divided tasks. I always took the writing part, except when I attempted to step up to the technical side. I’d ask for help from one of the techy students. They couldn’t help but take over and I couldn’t help but let them in order to hide my techno shame and secure an A for the group. I shirked my responsibility to myself to learn, create, and navigate what was then referred to as the World Wide Web.

That’s exactly what it felt like to me—a place where I kept getting stuck.  I’m not the only one. Right? We keep trying. Tried school. Tried a class. People help with, “Just pay someone to throw up a website.” These same people say, “You’re a writer? Can you make a living doing that?”

Squirm. Shame. Not yet. Fuck you!  My ego speaks first. My soul sees the sadness of suckers thirty pounds overweight doing jobs they hate.

So, I pray.

I pray to release my fears, insecurities and shame. I allow my divine desire to write, share my stories and touch hearts. I pray for the right (write) people to  step into Alice in Authorland, not just the website, but the world wide web of writing,  publishing, marketing and engaging a readership.

I also pray to be open to all kinds of angels along my path. I pray. God giggles and gives answers I never imagined. People arrive. With ideas that both excite and make me bristle.

I learn of some games people play to gain an online following and I’m floored. I don’t want to! I don’t have to! I’m not going to! (Youngest child syndrome.)

We youngest like to say, “You’ll see.” I get the invitation that you have to play to win. So did Augusten Burroughs before he shredded into A Million Little Pieces on Oprah.

I’m not him. I’m Alice Lundy. I’m committed to authenticity to the best of my ability. I despised working for others when they expected me to squelch who I am.

Still, I’d rather get a job than build my brand on the thing I hated most about working for someone else: games. I once had a boss who was infamous for saying, “My game. My ball. My rules.”

Not anymore. I take responsibility for me. I am Alice in Authorland.

Some people suggest I get friends to post rave reviews under multiple pseudonyms. They say, “Everybody does it” and “That’s just how it’s done.”

Didn’t their moms ask them about jumping off the bridge with their friends? No, these suggestions aren’t about banking fraud or political posturing, but I refuse to build my brand based on bullshit. I take it personally to expand through integrity.

If that means I’m short on following or the reviews don’t sound so cute, I’m ok with that.

I’m not cool with pretending. Period. Sure, sometimes I must, but not here, not now. Not with my voice. I want real. Yes, even if it’s real hard and slow to start. But, what if that’s where the bullshit lies?

The truth is in the magic and the miracles, God and angels, and readers who join communities that mirror better. I believe in better.