I am working full speed on my memoir, Escaping Madness, and hope to have the first complete draft done by the end of March. I hope to get it published by mid-summer, or the end of the year at the latest. I have already learned one significant lesson. Once you begin plumbing the reaches of your memory you are amazed at how long-forgotten incidents and people surface.
The theme running through my memoir is the way violence—verbal and physical—has punctured many parts of my life.
For those of you reading this who might be thinking at trying your hand at memoir writing, I strongly urge you to do it. And, if you stopping because you cannot remember a lot of the details of your past, don’t forget that a memoir is a form of creative non-fiction. For example, I cannot remember the exact words of my mother yield when she was in one of her mentally ill, alcoholic rages, but I can remember the substance of what she said; I can recreate my feelings and the essence of what she said.
The whole process of writing a memoir can, and for me, is cathartic.
(To be continued)