Memoir 101 was mind-blowing. Seriously. One single memoir is like ten years of therapy. Who knew? Thank you Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance for the connectivity you provide your members. Writing is intentionally and uniquely lonesome. But, that gets lonely. I’ve met so many other quirky writers who love to share their process, however, not share in it. “Go away, I’m writing.”

I’ve learned that memoir is my truth, my whole truth and nothing but my truth. How liberating. Many of us circling our speaker in the Belfast, Free Library this past Saturday expressed concerns that other’s trapped in the scenes of our lives may see details differently. What it boils down too is: who cares. Let them write a damn memoir then. Boo-ya! Feeling inspired, I raised my hand and added, “Feelings are true. How situations effected you and your interpretations of them may differ but stay true to how it made you feel and you can’t ever be lying.” A round of applause did not occur but I got a couple head nods. I’m brilliant, I thought and smiled at my reflection in the screen of my laptop.

I also learned that your scenes in a memoir are like describing the details of a single piece of sand on a beach. Snippets of your life told in detail spanning a very particular range of years. All of my years are juicy with turmoil but I will commit to the first half of my fifty years on this planet. How do I execute that exactly? you ask. “A vision board,” suggests Catharine H. Murray. I know, right? Isn’t that a great idea? Grab some Index cards, write keywords for events that you want to include, organize them in a chronologic manner and when inspiration strikes pick a card and write your heart out. Literally, write from the heart and all five senses for that matter. Catherine Murray is a genius.

The weekend prior to Memoir 101, MWPA offered a daylong seminar called Walking With the Reader. Another mind blowing day of clarity for this writer. My definition of perspective and narrator are the same, however, I learned there must be a seamless flow for your reader as the narrative varies from intimate to afar. For example: If your reader is in a boat, floating along a moving river of delight, don’t knock her out of the boat. My wonderful editor called me out every time I knocked my reader out of the boat. “Abrubt,” written in red reminded me of my disregard. In real life I am rude and abrupt. I am straightforward and appreciate point-full direction, clarity and no-nonsense. I must be better than that in my writing. I must include all five of my senses and my heart to be the most effective writer I can be. I do.