Writing from Memory

Our memories, be they pleasant or painful are invaluable as a wellspring of material for our writing. This can be said of poetry, fiction, basically any style of writing you choose. Perhaps this is less so with journalistic writing, but many good columnists today draw on anecdotes of childhood to raise points in their articles, especially in countries where tabloid papers are largely biased and subjective.

When drawing on memories of the past, you are invoking the spirit of that age, at that time, as you remember it. Your memories could be totally off. You might remember things wrong. You experienced your local playground perhaps in a completely different way than that of your best friend who was playing right there with you. You are both unique people, and yet both of you "remember the vibe of the playground." When you express your memories in the form of writing, they will resonate with each of your readers in their own unique ways. How cool is it that as writers and readers we can share and affect each others worlds in so many ways, yet retain an experience that is individually all our own? Your experience of playing at the lake as a child is completely different than mine. Different time, place, seasons etc. Yet there are things that bind us together. There are things that "hanging out at the lake" mean for both Stephan Harris from Lake Oswego, Oregon, and Antonella Leonetti from Milan.

So how do we pull good writing from our memories. The first thing I would say are specifics. You aren't saying "on a rainy playground, with bark dust, where kids played ball." You are talking more about "the misty rain of spring chilling pressed fingertips on the monkey bars, chips of purple paint falling to the soaked barkdust, where the scents of pine met asphalt and wet grass." Maybe not the best description but you get the idea. Your reader wants to get an idea of the feelings that you felt, the smells that you smelled, the general vibe and ambiance. It will probably still be way off, but it will work for both of you in some sense. A poem or a story will be written that is both unique and relatable. As long as you invoke the senses, and touch upon something that people can at least empathize with, you have good chance of writing some strong content. The point I'm making is that its worth your time to get good at using your memories to your advantage when you write. Learn how to conjure them up. Learn how to describe the imagery, the smells and sounds, the vibe at the time. Learn how to make them relatable to the possible experiences of others. Find the common ground.

Now then, lets cut to the quick. Here is a technique you can use to uncover a treasure trove of memories, and hopefully source some powerful material to get your fingers burning to write. Grab your notebook, tablet, laptop, or whatever you use to make notes(if you don't, now is the time to begin, since it is vital to your development as a writer.) These are just examples of places to "dig," but you can easily come up with your own. Think of some responses to the questions below, and jot down a few words for each:

1. Think about a pleasant or upsetting memory from your past.

2. Think about a place you lived as a child.

3. Remember a deep secret that you once kept.

4. Recall the first time you believed in something magical or unusual.

5. Think about a time you were terrified.

6. What's the most dangerous thing you ever did?

7. Recall something bad or "sinful" that you once did.

8. Think about something amazing that happened on holiday.

9. Remember something that a family member said that stuck in your mind.

10. Think about something that happened while you were out in nature.

11. Remember the first time you fell in love.

12. Remember something that made you laugh until your stomach hurt.

Feel free to swap these out with whatever you like. You could come up with them endlessly. Choose only one, just for now. Try to find one that you think speaks to a really defining moment in your life. Maybe it helped develop you as a person or even traumatized you. Most importantly, choose that you think will interesting for the reader. Sit and replay the incident in your mind without judging or criticizing it (eg. did it happen this way, or that way?)

Now, jot down as many specifics as you can, paying particular attention to the descriptive language you use. An example. Do you want to use:

.The river by the ford near the log cabin(not too bad)

Or

.The trickle of the frothing rapids, colliding with time sculpted boulders, chiseled by the water and the footsteps of my father's before me. (Better? I don't claim to be Shakespeare, but you can see the difference a bit of descriptive language makes.)

I've made these off the cuff, but you get the drift. You want to write down how things looked, smelled, sounded, what they felt like, and if you can the emotions/inner sensations you felt at the time. You want to try and remember things that people said and the tone they used. The body language people and animals used. Everything you can. You can write a few sentences describing the situation, a few pages, or....a book perhaps, if you feel inspired enough? When this is done, ask yourself how much of an effect this event actually had on your life. What made you sit and remember this so clearly? It's sometimes easier said than done.

Writing Prompt #1:

Drawing upon all the information you have gathered, write a poem that retells the story as effectively as possible. Make it as long as you want, but no shorter than twenty lines. The key objective is to keep it engaging and make the reader thirsty to keep on reading until the end, tirelessly wondering what will happen next. Try to keep the imagery to one scene (the park near your house, the cabin in the woods, the top of the mountain). If the memory jumps between locations/scenes, choose the one that defines the event the most, or jumps out as the most relevant. Remember that one element of good writing that will constantly get drilled into you throughout your career is to "show us" rather than "tell us" what is happening. We don't want to know there was a deer by the tree. We want to envision the way its majestic antlers and graceful steps as it appeared through the trees, blocking the glints of sun that stung your eyes made you feel. The more you can make your reader feel, the more you have hit home. Describe the actions and events so that the reader doesn't have to be told how you felt. They will come up with it, or some version of it themselves. This way, you are connecting with your reader.

Writing Prompt #2:

This one's for the story writers. Write a short story of no more than six thousand words, but no less than one thousand that re-imagines the event you experienced as if it led you on a secret mission. For example: "Treading that snow covered trail, the one I had been warned to avoid, I knew I was destined to be there. The fugitives had been chased by a savage grizzly, but the trail of money they left behind was impossible to resist."

Another example could be: "I thought I was going to drown. I sank to the bottom of the pool at the hotel my mother worked at, and nobody had jumped in to save me. The drain at the bottom of the pool opened wide, inviting me in. I emerged into a world of starlit waves aboard an ominous ship."

You get the idea. You will have to get your creative writing juices flowing here and come up with a premise that your own unique event could lead to. I'd love to see what people come up with. Feel free to use the examples above if you happen to have lived near some mountains or nearly drowned as a kid, but it would be good to see new ones.

Please post your poems and stories in the comments.

Here is my poem from Writing Prompt #1:

Parked Uncle

The sterling glimmer of the miniature moon,

reflecting somber, in wide framed lenses.

Sorrowful crickets. Fiddling away under sprinkler mists.

Harmonizing regret.

The stink of petrol; lingering in my nose and throat.

The furnace kicks on as he lights his unfiltered.

Flammable maverick, ashen black hair.

Another can from the fridge,

cold in my fingers,

in that garage of cobwebbed tools,

fueling his banter and bane.

Stained teeth grinding behind pursed, cracked lips.

Stories of war, stories of youth,

stories of faded dreams.

The day that I learned about death.

The day that I questioned the bible,

when he pointed at the sky, and told me

the stars would explode;

No one would notice.

He sat in his broken recliner,

bones creaking with the hinges, as he stared at the ceiling.

He filled me with wonder, worry, and dreams.

Safe haven shattered.