Ina The Memoir Coach Blog

UNTANGLING

3/15/2017

The other evening I found that my gold necklace had developed a twist. I removed the chain from my neck, and upon closer inspection realized that somehow one end had apparently threaded through an open gold link. I could nor for the life of me figure out how this happened. So, taking the necklace off, I vowed to try to fix the tangle the next morning.

Being swamped lately, it took me two days to get back to this project. A need for a sanity break from politics, and work, inspired the moment. I picked up the chain, and tried, for a full five minutes, to rethread it, but no amount

of twisting or turning would allow me to push the end back through the opening it had mys- teriously wandered through to make its conspicuous lump. Frustrated, and not willing to force the chain for fear of damaging it, I put the necklace down by the door. I'll bring it to a jeweler, I thought.

Fast forward to this morning. An agreement I'd been working on for a new project had a couple of deal points I was having a bit of trouble nailing down. I'd emailed the draft to the lawyer involved. A couple of days ago... In keeping with our times, I left him a voicemail and email yesterday with the questions, asking if we could discuss "in the soon."

This morning he called at around 10. We hashed out everything, and it all seemed to fall into place. For some reason I went to the door. And picked up the necklace. What you see in the picture is how it appeared.

I've had some wonderful adventures with serendipity, and physical changes in objects for no standard reason (looking at a previously non-working appliance – no, not a microwave – thinking "Work!" and having it suddenly perform perfectly, for example).

But a sudden untanglement, with no physical cause, this is new.

I love it!

1 Comment

Just Write! Or, How to Go From One Blank Page to a Full Manuscript without Tearing Your Hair Out

6/24/2016

2 Comments

I wrote about breaking through writers block back in 2011. But it's such a recurring theme I wanted to post an update, with some new "why I can't write" protests, and tips on why, and how, you can write. Blame the students in my Monday morning memoirs class, who expressed frustrations along these lines. But here's the thing -- when I talked to them about ways to move on, there was a palpable change in the room. A huge sense of relief, and excitement.

This is how the discussion started. Seem familiar?

"I'm afraid to write about my life. If I go into the feelings, I won't be able to deal with it...Too much pain. I just don't want to go there."

Then there was damned if you do and damned if you don't:

"I want to write my memoir, but I'm afraid that if I get into the story, hours will go by and I won't be able to get anything done. That happened to me recently. I started to write, looked up at the clock, and it was three hours later. I can't afford that kind of time! I promised to do things for my husband, and other people, and I have laundry, shopping...."

So, here's what I said to the first issue. I know it's hard to write about painful memories. But once you get them out on paper (or computer screen), you'll feel so much better. It's really cathartic. Writing is a recognized technique for overcoming the pain of loss. There is much written about this in the literature of social services and psychology. I'd used the technique in my Grief Lifters classes. So I'd also had experience helping others release pain through writing.

Several in the class nodded when I mentioned the power of writing to help ease the pains of old hurts. One long time class member and I recalled Kay. A wonderful writer, not suffering from a block, but she did feel pain, acutely, when writing some of the stories of her life. She, and the rest of us, learned that the first time she read one of these tales, she'd cry. The second time, the crying would happen, but less of it. The third time, no tears. The same thing happened over and over. Kay knew how healing it was for her to write these memories down. And so did everyone else in the class. A lesson they applied to their own work.

Another member had lost his wife. Writing helped him get through the pain. And it had another benefit. It brought him close to two of his estranged daughters. They'd never known how much he cared for their mother; he was schooled in the "Don't show your emotions" school of family life. But when they read these stories, his kids all realized that indeed, he loved his wife very much.

One other, important benefit of writing about painful experiences. The way you got through them can help those who read your stories. Perhaps you'll be able to show them a technique for coping that helped you. And just the fact that you got through it can buoy a reader's spirits.

I also told the class a story about one of my own experiences. I was in a relationship with a fellow, and it was quite serious. Then one day he didn't show up. Something told me he never would. And I was right. I was in such pain when I realized this that I jumped into my car, with no idea where I was headed. This was Carmel. Beautiful area, with small towns and roads right on the Pacific coast. A spot in nearby Pacific Grove called out to me. I parked, sat, and stared at the ocean.

Somehow I'd taken a yellow pad and pen. I picked them up and started to write. One hour later, the tablet held twelve pages of hardly crossed out handwriting. I began to read. "You know I'll never hurt you," my former lover said to me in the first line. Reading all the pages, as if outside myself, I morphed into a reader of someone else's prose. "Not bad," came to mind. I realized this was the beginning of a book. And that clearly the process of writing had defused the pain.

Once people realize how useful writing is at getting over deep wounds, it becomes easier and actually logical to just dive in. I encourage you to try it. Please let me know how it's going for you! Comment here or send me an email.

On the second issue, "I'll get lost in the writing and won't be able to get anything done -- promises I made to others, or chores for myself" -- here was my reply. This is a common roadblock people throw up to keep from putting pen to paper. But you do not have to lose yourself in your writing. You can set a time limit.

Also, while we all make promises to other people, it's important to do things for ourselves as well. Remember, the writing is something you want to do, for yourself. You've stated that you want to get your stories down so that others in your family will know what you've done in your life. Some of you want to get your stories published, and perhaps performed.

How to avoid being swallowed up? Try using a timer. Figure out what amount of time is right for you. Can you give yourself one hour a day? Or one or more hours once a week? This has to be sacred time. Nothing can interrupt. Think of it as a gift and a promise you are giving to yourself. You deserve it.

Whether you've had either of these reasons to keep from starting or keeping on, or others, you'll find that once you start, you'll want, and even need, to keep on going. Persistence really does pay. The pages will pile up.

If you just write.

2 Comments

Do I Have to Reveal Secrets in My Memoir?

9/27/2015

3 Comments

Revealing Secrets is a must for memoir writers! Thanks to ShariEngland.blogspot.com for this wonderfully embarrassed polar bear.

Yes. The writer needs to expose his or her own stories. If there is dirty linen in your closet, it really helps you to get it out. I'm talking here about including embarrassing moments, failures, times you might have harmed others, and the like. Let it out! You won’t believe how relieved you feel once you have put something you’ve been keeping inside down on paper. We have all heard about how keeping things inside can cause us to become ill. Check the research.

Here are a few articles on the subject:

Psychology Today

Forbes

The Atlantic

The other good thing about exposing yourself on paper is your readers will admire your honesty. The writer who is not perfect is human. Someone with whom a reader can honestly identify. When I wrote my first book, Pawprints, I was quite pleased when friends remarked, "I can hear you talking as I read these stories." But I was actually surprised and a bit uncomfortable myself when people added, "I know so much more about you now," with a kind of knowing look. Ouch! But, the fact that I did reveal personal vignettes did much more for me than to me. Pawprints became an Amazon.com bestseller, and developed into a literacy program. And readers liked me!

Now, does this mean you have to tell everything? No. If you will really hurt yourself or someone else, consider whether or not it is such an important point that you must reveal all. If so, the other people who are afraid they might be tarnished by association, or whose secret you are telling, will just have to get over it. This is particularly true within families. There are always skeletons and everyone is afraid of letting them jump into the light. But, as the research shows, these secrets are harmful to everyone, and it really may wind up helping all involved if the cat is let out of the bag.

Thinking over your life for your memoir will bring to mind these secrets. And while it is a good thing to put some into print, there are valid reasons when other avenues at clearing the air may be a better choice.

A woman who came to me about a project had experienced the family secret issue. A relative was trying to urge her to have sex with his friends, who were strangers to her. Why? Probably because he thought "free love" was healthy. She was so offended, and upset, that she chose to ostracize him, and never re-opened the door to the man again. The rest of the family knew nothing of this. They were all very upset with her.

In talking about her project, we discussed this issue in depth. The conclusion -- it would be too hurtful for the family to include the episode and its aftermath in her memoir, and it was not critical to the portion of her life about which she was writing. But it was important to talk to others in the family once he had died. They needed to know why she had seemed so ill mannered, to say the least. The result? Suddenly, the family understood her behavior. They wound up embracing her warmly. Family bonds were re-attached.

Another time you might opt not to include such a secret is if you might wind up getting hurt, for example kneecapped, as one lady who came to me for advice might have. In this case I also advised not to reveal the secrets.These were not about the author, but about characters she would include. The woman with the story had been married to a man who was famous in a field that was riddled with mafia. It would have been very dangerous for her to expose their behavior.

On a related note, is it OK to write stories about celebrities you might have encountered?
In general, the rule of thumb is, if it really happened, it is not libel (“slander” refers to telling the story orally) and you can write it. Celebrities are also considered public figures and as such are “fair game” for irony, or for stories that involve something you witnessed – as long as it is not degrading or defamatory. They are not, though, fair game for mean spirited, untrue stories. Again, if it is not true, you better watch out.

Here are two resources online to check out the legalities involved.

Findlaw.com

Nolo

3 Comments

NOTES FROM THE LITTERBOX

6/21/2015

17 Comments

Pix Cat 'n' Litterbox, by Sanitation Engineer Ina Hilebrandt, blog post InaTheMemoirCoach.com

Conversation between the Hillebrandt Litterbox Sanitation Engineer (Q) and Pixelle Cat (PC)

Q: Fer heaven’s sake, Pixelle! How many times can a cat poop in a day?

PC: Well, let me see…there was that time at 1:00 am, when you got out of bed to clean out the box.

Q: I remember it well. Then there was the 3:00 am fragrant breeze wafting me out of bed again.

PC: Yes. Purrrrr. You were pretty snarly, for a human.

Q: Yer damned right! It’s really hard to keep getting awakened out of a deep sleep by a crappy smell.

PC: I beg your pardon!

Q: OK, OK. I know this is just call to nature stuff. But really, 3 more times from 7-9 am? And then off and on all day? Really, Pix, it’s a bit much!

PC: Well, did you ever think this is something you’re doing?

Q: Huh?

PC: Maybe it’s the food?

Q: Hmmm…you usually don’t go this often. What have I been doing differently?

PC: Dunno, but dinner was tasty tonight.

Q (sotto voce): You know, I think it’s time for some rice in your food, Pixelle Cat.

SOUNDS - litterbox scratching in the BKGD.

CUT TO: 3 days later - Night

Q: How you feeling, Pix?

PC (suspiciously): Why do you ask?

Q: You only used the litter box twice today.

PC: Yeah. I guess you’re right. I’ll have to work harder.

Q: Very funny.

Timeout for some cat cuddles.

Q: Purrrrr.

Is there a moral to this tail? You tell us! Hint: rice really does help get rid of The Pussycat Runs. Anyone have any other remedies? Or similar tails?

17 Comments

Pussycat Goes Walkabout

6/21/2015

2 Comments

Sam Cat with Pixelle in a rare moment of total peace. Though they did play together often and never were aggressive with each other.

It all began when little Sam Cat went walkabout in October of 2012. I was of course heartbroken. She tried to come back in two nights later, but her former boon companion Pixelle the Prosecutor hissed and snarled fiercely and she ran off. I raced out after her, but could not get her to come back in....Then Sam started coming around, in April of this year. I'd been worried sick and felt guilty as hell for letting her out in the first place. But then, I've had cats since I was a kid and this is only the second who'd ever disappeared. And I'd always let them outside because I think no living critter should be trapped.

Dear Sam Fans --

I don't know how to tell you this. So I'm just gonna go in. The little pussycat, residing in a cabinet in one of my bathrooms for close to 3 weeks, was beginning to lose it. Crying out several times a night, glaring at me from inside instead of looking sweet. If I dared put a toy or the brush she'd loved in close, a claw would come shooting out, and huge hissing would accompany the shot. So, despite the advice of my vet and a pet behavior specialist, I thought, I've got to get her out of there so that I can begin the reintegration process, if that's going to be possible.

First step, called Animal Control to see if they send people to help get feral-types out of things like cabinets. Answer, no way in hell! Let this cat go. She clearly wants no part of you or the others in the household. Ever. She'll be fine outside without shots. Millions of pussycats are.

I wasn't really buying it, but I did want to bring her, and me, some relief. And relief also for the other two cats, who kept getting lured into one room by me to try to get little Sam to feel safe emerging, and would then get very testy with each other. Not a great plan. So, next step, call a vet tech and see if he would be able to make a house call to help me first confirm this is little Sam, and then help me get her to vet for check up. Then, be able to help with reintegration, i.e., insuring the other two cats wouldn't kill her.

I lucked out and the tech was able to come next day. With steel lined gloves scarred, as he showed me, by previous cat bites and scratches. And big towels. And a net. He'd warned me this was going to be a battle though he would do his best to get the cat and wrap her in a towel to soothe her, and then he'd be able to "wand" her to check the microchip to make sure we've got Sammy. The net would only be used as a last resort, because it would really stress the pussycat out.

So, I was told to let him do his thing while I went off, and not be surprised by noises. He'd call me when ready. I left him to his thing while answering a very exciting email. Which was a little difficult due to numerous thumps and thuds in the background.

Finally, the call. I went to the tech, who was standing catless but with information. No chip. Sammy of course has a microchip. Huh? "Can't find a chip. I was only able to check one side of her, but the wand really should show if there is one."

I was dubious. He offered to check the other side of the cat, which meant I was again sent off while he made valiant efforts to corral the angry and scared ball of fur. Several minutes later I was called in again.

"No way. She took hold of my finger with her teeth, through the glove, and I thought, 'Great! Now I'll be able to check her completely.' But, she was going to go right through my hand. So, last resort. Do I have your permission to use the net?"

He'd warned me using a net might need to happen. He now added that I should expect pee and poop. I suggested we remove the rugs. He said that was a great idea. So, out I went again.

VERY LOUD HISSING AND BANGING. But, finally, a net emerged from the bathroom, containing one furious cat. The vet tech followed, holding said net.

We got 'er done. No chip.

Then the tech put the lid on. "I think this is a boy."

-------------
There are other chapters coming. "From pee and poop to something better," and "When does becoming a lock picker make you a good person?" For tonight, I'll leave it by saying my daughter's friend has now labelled me a cat kidnapper.

2 Comments

January 19th, 2015

1/19/2015

0 Comments

Bonnie Brace-Smith, Memoir Writer InaTheMemoirCoachClass

I thought I'd heard everything in my creative writing and memoir classes. But this was a new wrinkle. Bonnie (Barbara) Brace-Smith, a newcomer to our class, told the group:

"When I write, I often think in song. I just can't think in words. The story comes to me as music."

Certainly songwriters must have this bent, but Bonnie doesn't really consider herself a songwriter, or lyricist. She's really just, in her description of "writing," talking about how jotting down a story comes through her consciousness. Curious to hear how this process manifests, I asked her to go ahead and "read" what she'd written in response to the prompt, "The last time I blew up a balloon." Take a listen. I think you'll be as pleased as we all were.

Bonnie's written other stories and poems as well. Sometimes they're in words on the page. Stay tuned.

0 Comments

HOW CAN I MAKE MY MEMOIRS MORE INTERESTING TO READ?

2/1/2013

0 Comments

The short answers: Use dialog to signify moods/feelings. Or, as an example of making words bounce off the page, Pepper Your Life Stories with Dialog to Add Zing

Life story writing certainly begins by describing events and people we have encountered, but how do we make these stories more than just a -- sorry, the word is dull -- recitation of facts? And an equally dull series of descriptions of how a character feels? These are questions that come up often among people in my classes, and in private coaching.

My recipe is, first, to capture and record dialog. If you don’t remember exactly what was said, that’s alright. Create conversations that come as close as possible to what you remember. A great technique for writing dialog is to imagine you’re talking with a friend.

Second, remember to keep your dialog in character. Each person you write about talks in a way that is specific for that person. Not everybody is from Australia, for example. So not everyone will greet another character with the phrase, “G’day, mate.” But if you have an Aussie you’re quoting, this would be a valid and lively phrase to use.

A very good way to get a handle on using dialog in writing a book of your life stories is to read samples from a few autobiographies or memoirs before plunging back in to writing again yourself. This is not at all to say that you have never read a book. Far from it. Refreshing/immersing yourself in a genre is a tool that most writers (including me) use to get themselves in the groove of writing in a particular form. I have a great book to recommend. It's Steve Martin's autobiography, Born Standing Up. If you go into the library (while they still exist) and browse the biography section, you can find many other books that will contain a mix of prose and dialog that should help inform your writing.

OK. So we insert dialog, but now, how much dialog is too much/too little? This related question comes from a very talented, very funny woman I coached. Her initial submission was a 25 page listing of the events in her life. It was not an easy life story -- she had a serious illness. But she treated each (often frightening) milestone with enormous good humor. Nonetheless, the result was far too much on the surface. We never knew how the main character was feeling. I suggested she insert dialog.

The student came back in a very short time with an entirely new book – laced with so much dialog we now weren’t sure what the action was. So, the challenge became finding a balance between description and dialog. While there are no real rules on proportions of prose to conversation, basically, the idea is to arrange dialog snippets within descriptive sections of an episode in your book. The dialog can then be used as a tool to expand the story in a way that literally speaks to readers. Here’s a sample:

Tom yelled at Sarah, "You're a spiteful, ugly witch, and I'm sick to death of being around you!"

Sarah slumped into the tub chair in her living room as he uttered his horrid words. Frozen, she was unable to move or speak. Tom waved his arms in the air for a minute, then slammed out the door. Sarah knew it was for the last time.

Now, we could follow with:

Sarah felt terrible.

Or, we could insert a phone call from a girl friend.

From somewhere outside her consciousness, Sarah heard a persistent, repeating sound. Rousing, she realized it was the phone. She slowly dragged herself to the instrument across the room and picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” Sarah mumbled, barely audible.

“Hi, Sarah? You don’t sound like yourself. Are you alright?”

Sarah realized it was her BFF, Kim. She let go, sobbing into the phone.

“Sarah, Sarah! What happened?”

“T…T…Tom. He…he… left…me!”

“What are you talking about? What happened?”

“He called me names, said horrible things, and slammed out.”

“Oh, he’s gotten mad at you before. He’ll be back.”

“Not this time.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just the way he said it. This time he’ll never come back…I know it. What can I do? I don’t know how I’ll be able to go on without him. After all these years.”

“Listen, honey. I can tell you feel terrible. You shouldn’t be alone. Do you want me to come over?”

Etc. Finish the dialog on the phone yourself! With a very short additional couple of lines.

Which method do you find makes for a better read?

KEY WORDS: writing; writing coach; memoir writing; how to write your memoirs; writing dialog; dialog writing tips; character development in writing; InaTheMemoirCoach

0 Comments

LIFE IN THE CATS LANE

2/23/2012

7 Comments

You who are owned by cats, like me, know the morning drill. Here’s an excerpt from my diary from a typical Tuesday...

5:00 am. Sound asleep, peacefully dreaming. Of something other than cats, most of the time. Lately for me, it’s how to get a word out of x, e and p in Word on my cell phone, something I’ve been addicted to since Alec Baldwin got thrown off the plane for playing this wretched game.

Suddenly, something lands on my head. Aacchhh! What the hell? Wide awake, I see a cat on my chest, peering into my face. Little Sam Cat. But I know that she wasn’t what landed on my head – the missile was much lighter. I feel around the pillow. Ah, there it is. One of Sammy’s nerf mice. She loves to play fetch and is really good at it.

But I’m not having any. “NO, Sammy! It is not time to get up!!!” I try to hide the mouse in a drawer. Sammy is not fooled and pulls the drawer’s handle to get at her treasure. Luckily, she’s not quite strong enough. I savor this tiny triumph, feeling not the least bit of guilt. And, closing my eyes, I drift back off…

5:20 am. SPROING! Dammit to hell! Sitting up, I’m just in time to witness little Sam take a running leap and ricochet off the bed again, meowing loudly upon hitting the floor seven feet away. “Sam! Cut that out!!!”

Sure. A few more running leaps, with contact. I remain motionless, trying to fool the cats into thinking I’m really back to sleep.

Pix has gotten chubby these days.

5:30 am. A very deep growling meow, followed by a poke in the cheek with a claw. A gentle poke, not meant to hurt, but a poke nonetheless. I have never been able to teach the very affectionate Pixelle to keep those sharp nails retracted. “No, Pix. It is NOT time for breakfast! Go back to sleep.” A heavy weight walks down my body, finally making circles between my knees. Mercifully, Pix nestles, meowlessly, between my knees. Grateful, eyes closed, I nod off again.

6:35 am. BANG, BANG, BANG! Without turning around, I yell, “Fi Cat, stop that!” Fiona, Sam’s sister, is opening the cabinet door, which springs shut with a loud thwhack each time she tries to pry it open with a paw. The door slams once or twice more, then, amazingly, all is quiet on the bedside front.

7:00 am. An Identified Flying Object lands with a thud on my right foot. “Sam-meee!!!!!” She has leapt from the top of a 7 foot tall bookshelf.

7:01 am. OK, I guess that’s it for sleep. I stretch, and before I’ve even stood up a feline chorus rings out. Sergeant Pix, Cat-in-Charge-of-Getting-Meals-for-the-4-Legged, takes command, going nose to nose with her little sisters, telling them breakfast is coming. Meanwhile, I rattle around the kitchen, taking care not to step on anyone.

First things first: set up the coffee maker – as a friend says, gotta get my heart started. Next, it’s pick up all 3 cat plates and soak them in the sink, to loosen any stuck-on morsels remaining from dinner. While the plates are immersed in suds, I pad into the guest bathroom and empty the clumps in the litter box. I then go into my office, where a second litter box resides, for the almost exclusive use of Fiona Cat. Which I’ll explain in another post … it’s a long story.

7:30 am. OK, so by now, coffee brewing, boxes cleaned for the morning, it’s time to return to the kitchen, scrub the cat plates, and dollop ¼ can of wet food onto each. Knowing the cats will turn up their noses if served the same food twice in a row, I carefully alternate stacks of pussycat meals before placing them in the cupboard. Love it on days when the already sliced bits or filets come up…much faster. Today it happens to be the pate, which can’t simply be spooned onto the plate, so I had to take a bit of extra time mashing the liver and chicken with a fork.

I put the plates down, food ready to be picked up easily by the kids with no hands. Pix takes a few bites, then retreats to the litter box. Pungent. As soon as she returns to her food, I run in and re-scoop. Next, it’s rinse out the water bowls and replace, with filtered water from the frig door. The little ones deserve not to have metals in their systems, just like us humans, right?

7:50 am
First sip of coffee. Ah….this day might be alright after all.

7:50:10 am
Sammy leaves the room.

7:50:20 am
Litterbox scratching sounds, accompanied by an indelicate odor filter into the living room from the guest bath …

7 Comments

Thoughts on Getting Older -- The Forgetting Game

1/15/2012

1 Comment

or ... Head on Neck, Place

For the last few weeks, I have been in a tizzy. More than usual. I am not sure why. Lots going on, but that in itself is not unusual. I am a million years older than I used to be, so that could be a factor, except, the series of things that have been happening are familiar…going into a room and forgetting what the hell for, asking the cats, but they don’t know either and so are of no help, none of this is new. Putting things down and then not finding them until they’re good and ready to be found, something I call “Reverse Kleptomania,” also par for the course for years.

But today kind of takes the cake. I put together a handful of stuff to toss into the trash, grabbing my keys on the way out. I live in a condo, so this is standard procedure. We toss the regular trash down a chute in a special little room off the laundry on each floor. But I also had recycling stuff, so I would need to go down to the garage, as that type of trash goes into special containers. For security, we have to have our keys to open the elevator on the lower level.

So far, so good. I’ve got everything held in such a way as to keep the keys and toss the trash. Carefully, I keep the keys in one hand as I toss some of the regular trash with the other, keeping the recycling tucked under one arm. Then, I carefully toss the other trash down the chute. Voila! Great work. Except, OMG, I’m not holding the keys. Did I toss them in with the second bunch of gar-bahge? Oh, no! I did, I did. Arrrgggghhhhh. How could I forget I was holding them?

OK, OK. I know I’m a sieve head. So what to do? As I run back to the apartment to pick up an extra set of keys, thoughts come flying through my brain. Yick. I’m going to have to reach into the smelly mess of gunk. I just hope I can get to it without having to dive in. I remember that there’s been a ladder in the garage the past few days, for some ongoing repairs. I hold onto the ray of hope that it’s still there. When I get to my apartment, I decide to grab the broom, in hopes it will help me ensnare the keys without having to dumpster dive. I run back to the elevator and keep hoping the ladder is still there. Wow! It is. My luck expands. There is also a neighbor there who sees my expression, and asks, “What happened?” When I tell him, he says, “You know, you could always call a locksmith. It’s $70.”

" Well, yeah, but those are my car keys, and a replacement costs $100 and has to be special ordered...it'll take days, and it’s the only one I have.”

“No problem. I’ll help you,” he says with a nod. He carries the ladder over while I prop open the door to the dreaded dumpster. Oy, the odor.

My valiant savior climbs up to the top of the ladder. “You can’t see a bloody thing in here. We need a torch. Do you have a torch?”

Yeah, I remember, he grew up in England. “I do, but of course hadn’t thought to bring it down.”

“You really can’t see any thing. Can you get the torch?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“No worries. I’ll wait for you.”

Leaving the broom by the door, I turn to go. “Thanks so much!!!!”

I race to my apartment, get the only flashlight I have, which throws out a very small light, race back down, hoping it will do. When I get back to the fragrant dumpster, I hand the light to my friend.

“What is this? You can’t see anything with this…Wait…I see them….hold on….”

He reaches over, without the aid of the broom, swoops down and comes back up, keys in hand.

I ask, afraid to hear the answer, “Did they land on a dry spot?”

“They’re cool. No problem. You’re very lucky.”

He hands me the perfectly dry, perfectly clean, non-aromatic keys. I threw my arms around him, giving him a huge hug. “I can’t thank you enough!”

“No problem. Have a great day! Don’t worry about the ladder. I’ll put it back.”

Feeling saved once again in life, I happily return home.

Am I really getting soft in the head with age, my biggest fear in life? Well, mayhap. But I also remember what my mother once told me. “You drop things because you forget you’re holding them.” I was 8.

1 Comment

Tips on Good Writing #2: Don’t repeat the same special word or descriptive phrase in a sentence or paragraph*

12/6/2011

0 Comments

Certainly words such as “the” demand to be used more than once. That’s not boring unless they show up as every other word; they’re not eye-catchers. But if you have used a descriptive, colorful or unique term, for example you’ve described someone as “fascinating,” be sure you don’t use the word, in any of its versions, later in the same sentence or paragraph. You will soon disengage your reader.

Less Interesting: Old Weird Harold was the most fascinating kid on the block. For one thing, what kid would have a name that fascinated people like that?

Way to go: Old Weird Harold was the most fascinating kid on the block. For one thing, what kid would have a name like that? (adapted, with gratitude, from a phrase by Footprints author, Kay Roberts)

Less interesting: Old Weird Harold always wore a brown fedora on his head. Every time he took his fedora off, the young man bowed.

Way to go: Old Weird Harold always wore a brown fedora. Every time he removed his signature head ornament, the young man bowed.

*Excerpt from How To Write Your Memoirs...The Toolbox Edition, upcoming sequel to How To Write Your Memoirs...Fun Prompts to Make Writing...and Reading Your Life Stories a Pleasure!

Have you got a pet paragraph you'd like to send us to show how you've avoided this potential reader turn-off? Please send it to us in a comment below. Thanks!!!!

0 Comments

<<Previous

RSS Feed

By Ina

Hi, and glad to see you! My new blog features memoir and fiction writing tips for you out there aiming to create enchanting memoirs and flights of fancy of your own; new "Pawprints," those close encounters of the furry kind, by moi; and topical comments as they bang on my head to be written. Plus: videos featuring talented authors I'm privileged to work with, reading live, Coming...your life stories, here. Got one you want to share? Use our form to be considered.

UNTANGLING

Just Write! Or, How to Go From One Blank Page to a Full Manuscript without Tearing Your Hair Out

Do I Have to Reveal Secrets in My Memoir?

NOTES FROM THE LITTERBOX

Pussycat Goes Walkabout

January 19th, 2015

HOW CAN I MAKE MY MEMOIRS MORE INTERESTING TO READ?

LIFE IN THE CATS LANE

Thoughts on Getting Older -- The Forgetting Game

Tips on Good Writing #2: Don’t repeat the same special word or descriptive phrase in a sentence or paragraph*

By Ina

Archives

Categories