More naps these days
Writing one’s memoirs is an interesting exercise.
My first reaction is one of resistance. It all seems so self-serving, directly opposed to the humility I wish to convey and live by.
It all seems so silly, the concept that my life might be interesting enough for a full-length book. Who would ever find my life to be fascinating?
And yet I see the value in it and, as a writer, I understand that every memoir written is not only written about the author but also about every single person who reads it, because we are all so much the same. We strive for individuality, from the make-up we use to the clothes we wear to the thousands of possessions we purchase over the years, and yet, at our core, we are the same. Events which have happened to me are relatable to a great many people. We all have suffered loss. We all have struggled. We all have had great personal triumphs, all have loved, and all have similar fears.
So my story is, in many ways, your story, and perhaps that is the greatest value of a memoir, to show others that they are not alone in this world, that they are not strange in their thoughts, and that they are not mistakes of creation. We are all stumbling, bumbling, mistake-prone jumbles of emotion, and we are all, in our own way, miracles.
And so it continues!
Bill
Billybuc
Artistry With Words 