Good News for Ban the Box

While this post isn't directly related to writing it touches on an issue I feel strongly about, namely employment for people with a criminal history.

Back in the day, someone convicted of a crime served his time and, when released, had at least a fighting chance of finding a job on the long, hard path to redemption following incarceration.  The general view - and one that, contrary to popular belief, is still held by the majority today - was that someone who had paid his debt to society had a right to a second chance.  The practical aspect is that the approach decreased the chances of recidivism by giving ex-cons hope at least the chance for a future.  The moral aspect is that, to many of us, it just seems right to at least give someone who has served his sentence the chance to start afresh: the moral/Christian/right/[insert your adjective here] thing to do.

Over the past 20 years or so that approach has been severely eroded, making many former prisoners unemployable for life.  The reasons for this include the ubiquity of background checks for virtually all types of employment, from McDonald's to Apple, the increasingly hard line taken by many states and communities against convicts (including ex-convicts), and employment laws that permit employers to ask about criminal backgrounds at the earliest stages of the employment process, and then to refuse employment solely based on conviction history.

This trend in employment to forever ban the convict from the labor market came about at the same time as incarceration rates skyrocketed: given that 65 million Americans now have criminal records that dooms a sizable percentage of the population to the breadlines or to further criminal acts.

In the past several years, a movement has gradually grown to combat this injustice.  The focus at the moment is on a tiny (but catchy sounding) issue called 'ban the box'.  The slogan refers to a prohibition on employers from requesting an applicant's criminal history until the interview stage or following a tentative offer of employment.  Though minor, delaying the asking of this inevitable question at least gives some applicants a fighting chance at a legitimate job.  

At present, most initiatives only 'ban the box' for government jobs, though some states (Minnesota, being a prime example) have finally extended the prohibition to private employers.  Following this lead, Target, which is based in Minnesota, has now banned the box at all its stores nationwide.

Is this the making of a trend?  I certainly hope so.  It certainly seems that many municipalities (approximately 50 to date) are jumping on the band wagon, though we'll know that it has really taken off when we see more states, the federal government and the courts jumping into the fray.  To date, that has not happened: only 10 states have enacted legislation and the EEOC has taken a permissive approach to background checks.

While 'ban the box' is only a tentative half-step in providing ex-offenders with the right to work, and the cities/states/employers that have actually banned the box, it is at least a start in rectifying a large wrong that has been perpetrated against a large segment of the population, forcing many of them to make the difficult choice between endless unemployment and a resumption of criminal activities.

This Writer's Sins: A full Confession

I spent the day hunting.  It was ruthless and brutal and bloody.  But I showed no mercy - I sliced and diced; ripped and tore - using my biggest caliber weapons.  To hell with hunting season - today was the day I decided to kill. And I didn't even have a permit.

Wait!  Hold on.  I suppose I should clarify before a reader calls the ASPCA...or the sheriff.  

Yes, my hunt was brutal and ruthless and bloody.  But I wasn't hunting animals.  And my keyboard was my weapon.  I was hunting passive verbs....and there were many.

It all started out innocently enough.  I went back to my memoir, which I've put through two revisions and which I thought was close to final, to make one innocent fix: I decided to change the I am's to I'm's to make my writing more conversational.  Small change, I know, but one of my sins as a former lawyer is to come across as more formal than friendly.  So I thought this would make for a simple, subtle fix.

I was about halfway through the 80k word manuscript when a whole slew of passive verbs congregating in the vicinity of the "I am's" began to bash against my eyes.  How's this for a nice example:  I am happy to have been a positive role model.   Oh, god!  Please let me repent.  I'm ashamed to say there are a ton of sins in that one sentence, not just a passive verb, which is why my hunting expedition was particularly painful.

It seems that as a lawyer another one of my sins (in addition to the above-mentioned formality and a tendency to write run-on sentences) is an over-reliance on passive verbs.  Yeckh.  But I do know that I am not alone in my sinning.  Nor is the sin confined to the ranks of lawyers.  If hell was populated by users of passive verbs it would be one crowded place.  Stephen King famously concluded that the overuse of passive verbs is linked to lack of confidence in one's writing.  I agree wholeheartedly. Timidity and law school.  But it is not too late: bravery can be found in the second draft.

So what to do?  Just what I did.  Ruthlessly kill them with a close reading as part of your second or third draft.  Or plan a special reading focused on just this one topic.  Don't worry about passives in your first draft - they tend to crop up almost subconsciously and obsessing over them too early impedes on the creative process (at least it does mine).

Since this is the day of confession, another sin I noticed in my manuscript is that most of the above-mentioned transgressions were more heavily congregated in the second half of the memoir.  Why is that, you ask?  The answer is simple.  I have a tendency to rush through my re-writes.  By the time I reach the second half my eyes are tired and my rigor is failing.  

I hence resolve to practice as I preach: to set aside separate 'quality time' to edit later portions of my works instead of treating them as the afterthought at the end of a long day.  And what will I be doing in this quality time?  Killing passive verbs, of course.  Not all killing is sinful after all.

Too Old to Be a Writer? 50 is the New 30

I am 43.  I don't feel old but I'm at that point in my life where I need to acknowledge that there are some things I will never do.  Play drums in a Top 40 rock band, for example.  Climb Mount Everest.  Hit a homer out of Brewer stadium.  Win the Indy 500 (or, for that matter, even drive a car over 100 mph).  When I was 20 I would have admitted under duress that the chances of my doing any of these things were small but insisted that it was still possible.  Now I just admit that, no matter how hard I try, I ain't gonna be dancing on stage anytime soon with Britney Spears.

But that leads to the question: what about writing?  Am I too old to embark on this career, become a great writer and soar to the top of the bestseller list?  Maybe, but I'd like to think that the odds against me doing so are related to talent, not age.  (A separate question I'll address in a later blog is the chicken and egg question: whether great writers are born or can be developed).

First of all, I do readily admit that there is a certain bias in some circles to the writer as wunderkind.  Who doesn't like the idea of some 25-year old just out of college penning a masterpiece as if possessed by some writing devil (or angel).  And countless charts track the best writers 'under 40' (generally considered the cutoff between old and young).  Some genres too may be better addressed by youngsters: chicklit, tween romances, some kids books.  Many of us yearn to hear the voice of a generation, including younger generations, and younger writers are assumed by many to have a better finger on the zeitgeist.  

But I beg to differ.  Writing isn't major league baseball after all.  It takes life experience.  It takes craft. It takes perspective. All of which are honed over time.  Of course, great writing also takes talent and creativity and those who assume writers are at their peak when young focus on these aspects.  Young = creative in their view.  But I don't buy it.

For example, some genres are tailor made for the older voice.  Memoir, for example (which is my focus).  I've read a few addiction memoirs penned by youngsters, but overall, the best memoirs I've read have been written by those my age or older.  Those who are able to look back at their life with some perspective.  Some wisdom.  Frank McCourt, my hero, published Angela's Ashes when he was 60 years old or so.

Crime fiction/mystery is another example, at least in the sense that readers of mysteries skew older and are attracted to older voices.  Another hero, Raymond Chandler, wrote The Big Sleep in his 50's.

An interesting article in the NY Times focused on great literature asks the question: how old can a young writer be?  The article also does some seat-of-your pants calculations that the pantheon of great novelists "performed their greatest magic" when young - that is, in their 20's and 30's.  In literary circles it seems that the 30's are considered a writer's golden years, mature enough to leave the mistakes of youth behind but creative and daring enough to chart new ground.

But I like to focus on those who bloom later.  The article lists Joseph Conrad, Virginia Wolf and Henry James as prime examples of authors who hit their stride only in their 40's and beyond.  Of course, I add McCourt and Chandler.  Stephen King, in his memoir/book "On Writing" talks about the effect of age on his writing (he hit the big time at the age of 26 with Carrie), saying that his creativity hasn't suffered but that he is slower now than he used to be (which he attributes to quitting smoking).  Maybe I should try that.

It's possibly wishful thinking, but I like to think that 50 is the new 30.  I agree that as we age the chances of doing anything new diminish, whether that be driving a race car or singing in a rock band.  But I believe that there is hope for those of us who are now older but have spent our lives developing a base: writing (whether or not it is creative writing; in my case it was journalism and legal writing, bleckh!), reading and honing our craft.  

But only time will tell.....

Setting is Key: Fact or Fiction?

Think of Laurence of Arabia and the desert springs to mind.  Think of Star Wars and you probably picture the Death Star.  Think of Agatha Christie and you envision an old manor house or some quaint little village in the English countryside.  Think of Philip Roth and some drab bedroom town in New Jersey springs to mind.

These works, whether they be novel, film, play or genre fiction, all rely on setting to make them great. And successful use of setting is, in my view, what separates the good from the great when it comes to writing.

I like to think of setting as playing a subtle role that, though behind-the-scenes, is of vital importance. Similar to props and scenery in a Broadway play.   Done well, it adds to the novel, enhancing key elements such as plot and character.  Done poorly, it is unimportant or, conversely, too important - distracting readers by hitting them over the head with endless depictions of scenery. 

In other words, successful use of setting can feel like walking a tightrope: done wrong and you may fall; done right and at the least you'll make it to the end in one piece.  Here are several simple rules that I try to keep in mind (sometimes more and sometimes less successfully) when I'm writing:

1.  Integration:  Your setting should be integrated into your novel.  By this I mean that it should "make sense," it should play a role in your novel, in the characters lives, it should enhance and further the plot.  For example, if your setting is the desert, certain plot conflicts should be related to the environment: maybe a lack of water or a battle against the harsh elements.  If your setting is a small town (my favorite), then the characters and the plot should revolve in part around that.  To check if your setting is properly integrated, you can perform a little test.  Imagine your characters and plot in a different setting, say a city instead of a small town or an urban area instead of the wilderness.  What would have to change to make the new setting work?  If nothing much would have to change other than some descriptions of your surroundings, than your setting is not properly integrated.

2.  Write About What you Know:  If you live in a small town, write about that.  Live on a farm?  Great setting for a novel.  Love NYC and spend a lot of time there?  Great, use it as your setting.  I don't mean this as a hard and fast rule.  As a writer, I don't like those - they seem too limiting.  And if everyone followed it we would not have Lord of the Rings or Dune.  But let me give you a personal example.  I have lived most of my life overseas, traveled to many countries and lived in more.  But I have never been to Mali.  For some reason, when writing a thriller, I got it into my head that part of the action had to take place there.  Big mistake.  Although I could piece together how I thought it should look - we live in the internet age after all - I felt like a fraud, like I was describing something I was guessing at.  And my writing suffered.  Much better to choose a setting you know intimately, that you can picture in your head with your eyes closed, that you can twist and pull and turn until you know just what is important about the setting and the role it plays in  your novel.  Maybe this is a physical place - the view outside your window.  Maybe this is an imaginary world.  Each writer is different.  But stray too far outside of your comfort zone and you may find yourself struggling.

3.  Setting is More than just Location:  When you mention setting people think of the physical place where the novel takes place.  But it is more than that.  It is also period, duration and time as well as culture and milieu.  By this I mean, setting is also about when your novel takes place, how long it spends there in that place and how people think and act there.  A novel can be set over a day, a minute, a month.  Decades.  It can also be set in the past, present and future.  As a writer, I find this inextricably linked - part of, in fact - setting.  So consider these points when developing your novel.

4.  Describe through example.  This is basically a fancy way of saying 'show, don't tell.'  You may get the point across by writing 'it was raining,' but that is not a particularly memorable way to describe your setting.  It is in descriptions such as these that authors create their style, set themselves apart from the rest, draws the reader in.  Much better to say, "The hard drops pelted against the sidewalk,"  or "Water gushed from the low-hanging clouds that sped past over their heads."  I'm not saying my examples are the best, but the point is to avoid basic descriptions such as "It was hot," "the leaves were green," "the house was yellow," etc., etc.

5.  Keep it Consistent:  It is very helpful as a writer if you can picture the setting in your head.  I find I can usually do this best when lying in bed before sleep.  If not, another good system is to jot down the various elements of your setting in a notebook to keep them in mind.  This will help keep your writing consistent throughout your manuscript and "true" to your setting.  There's nothing worse than to describe one thing one way in the first chapter and another way 20 chapters in.  Astute readers will spot the discrepancy and it will turn them off from your work.  

Writing Groups and the Aspiring Writer

When I first started writing I took a disdainful, go-it-alone approach.  The fine words would flow from my pen and create art on the page.  What need did I have for a writing group?  Picasso didn't create what he did by attending a painter's group, did he?

I'm exaggerating a bit to make my point (no, I don't compare myself to Picasso) but the reality is that I thought of writing as a solitary activity to be approached in something of a vacuum.  But as I progressed through my first manuscript, as my eyes became increasingly glazed and I had no idea if what I was writing was art or schlock, I began to yearn for feedback.  But the fact was, that I was scared of crawling out of my bubble and subjecting my work to the scrutiny of others.

Finally, I decided that if I ever wanted to publish I had to start showing my work somewhere.  And with that, I got on the internet and began to search for writing groups in my area.  And am I ever glad I did.  I just wish there were more of them.

I live in Milwaukee, WI, not exactly a hotbed of creative activity.  So I attended my first meeting of the local writer's groups with - how to put this tactfully? - not the highest expectations.  But I was surprised and impressed.  I enjoyed the pieces that others were writing and appreciated the chance to give them constructive feedback.  And I received a ton of good advice from the other members on my work.  I received praise for what I had done (always good for the ego) as well as constructive criticism.  No one - thank god - told me my work was shit, though one of the grandmotherly types looked offended when we got to a section on sex and drugs.

The main value of a writing group to me is the fresh sets of eyes it brings to your work.  Just because a fellow member isn't a NYTimes bestselling author (or even a published author) doesn't mean that she won't have wonderful feedback.  The feedback from a focused group can encompass many things, from plot developments to POV to character development and the value is the fresh perspectives it brings to your work.  I doubt that I am the only writer ever to lose perspective on what I was writing halfway through.  How many times can one person look at the same thing over and over after all?

That said, even if you attend the most accomplished group, you need to take advice with perspective.  For one thing, the advice may conflict.  With one of my works, a member was adamant that I drop a character's colloquial voice.  He thought it was distracting.  Another member was equally adamant that I keep it.  In the end we had a great discussion but I was left to decide things on my own (I kept the colloquialisms).

Another drawback (at least with my group) is that members don't look at the work as a whole but rather look at several pages each time we meet.  That is a slow process as it is disjointed and can take months to work through a manuscript.  To avoid that, you really need a writing mentor or audience you can turn to with complete drafts.  But this is not really a criticism of writing groups - it comes with the territory, that's all.  And it may be at your writing group that you meet a mentor or someone willing to read your full manuscript.

My group has made me hungry for more: we meet only once every two weeks after all.   I am now exploring other options, from internet meet-ups to writing seminars and festivals.  Any thoughts on useful and rewarding venues from my readers would be much appreciated.

Mystery Revealed: Nine Secrets to Writing a Successful Whodunit

I recently finished the manuscript of a mystery, Murder in the Middle of Nowhere.  In later posts I'll go into more detail on the plot but I am happy with the way it turned out, which is more than I can say of many of my previous writing attempts.

The reality is that when I sat down to write I wasn't intending to write a whodunit but rather just a simple character study of someone I found interesting.  I'm not snobby or anything but had sort of looked at this genre with disdain as overly rote and formulaic.  But as I progressed, my character study increasingly took on the characteristics of a mystery and, in the end, I couldn't resist the urge to go all out.  I wish I could also say that I resisted the urge to break all the rules of the genre; I didn't.  Since I wasn't writing a traditional mystery I felt liberated from the rules.  For example, I included page after page of backstory and didn't get to the crime until about page 500 or so.

With first draft in hand, I waltzed proudly into my writing group to show off my handiwork.  "Is this genre fiction?" one member asked.

"Well, not exactly," I replied.  "But sort of, yes."

"Then what is it?"

"Ok, fine, I adimit it.  It's a mystery, a detective novel, a whodunit."

"Where's the crime?"

I looked away in embarrassment.  "If you turn to page 499, you'll find the first description of the murder."

Ok, I'm exaggerating a little.  But with a few astute comments, my colleagues quickly reminded me that readers expect certain rules to be followed with genre fiction.  And unless you're committed to fine literature unencumbered by any and all rules, you probably should too. 

So here are the 9 rules that I ultimately followed with my mystery and would suggest that you follow too unless you're much braver than I:

Crime:  Readers of crime fiction expect there to be a crime and expect it to be introduced quickly.  And, yes, the crime is typically a murder, though the rule bends a little here: other crimes, if they are sufficiently shocking, will work.  I have seen various suggestions regarding placement of the crime: in the first 1,000 words, in the first 3,000.  Ultimately, I didn't worry about the word count but just concentrated on foreshadowing in the first paragraph and fully introducing the crime within the first 3 chapters.  Personally, I like foreshadowing prior to the introduction of the crime itself as it serves to create tension.

Plot:  Plot is paramount and you should get into it quick.  I had a good plot in mind with some exciting hooks but took too long to get there with all my 'artistic' backstory.  I'm not an author who enjoys extensive outlining and plot development before starting work, but with mysteries you should really have the basic plot developments already on paper (or in your head) including how the story will end and the twists and turns it will take to get there.

Ending:  As I mentioned just above in plot, you as the author have a great advantage over the reader:  you know how the story will end.  Or at least you should.  I have spoken with many aspiring authors who don't keep this in mind.  And the result is a messy book.  By knowing the ending you can effectively place all the twists, turns and mystifying clues that will make your book interesting.

Narrator:  without an interesting narrator, whether he/she be a layman or a professional, your book will be boring.  Whatever their background, they need a strong reason to be investigating the crime or else it won't seem believable.  That is why many authors choose policemen as their narrator.  Personally, I enjoy whodunits narrated by a non-professional.  But that takes extra planning to give them a plausible reason to investigate.  The type of narrator you choose can play a role in determining whether your story falls into some sub-genre of the mystery novel: amateur, professional, police procedural, legal thriller, etc.

Victim(s):  You need at least one victim.  And with victims there is a tightrope to walk. You need the victim to be at least somewhat interesting (or the crime committed against them) but as they are dying in the first several chapters, if not already dead, you don't need much more than that.  What is more important is fully developing the living characters in your book.

Setting:  often, advice given to aspiring mystery writers leaves out setting.  Personally, I think setting is paramount.  A good setting can add wonders to the story, creating atmosphere and believability.  What is key is to make the plot and the characters an integral part of the setting.  It should all work as a whole.  Don't put a detective that looks and acts like some asshole on the NYPD into a plot set in Kansas.  Simple, yes, but in practice it can be hard to fit everything convincingly together.

Clues:  You want to confuse your reader but you don't want to fool them.  Does that make sense?  What I'm saying is that your goal as an author isn't to pull one over on your readers.  That's no fun.  But you do need to intrigue them and confuse them: if they figure out who did it before reaching the end it won't be fun either.  So place some clues, some true and some false, but don't cheat.  Don't have an alien swoop in at the last second and claim responsibility.  

Bad Guy: you want a bad guy that seems capable of committing the crime.  If not, the reader won't believe it.  Other elements to consider when developing your bad guy are: likeability (giving him/her some redeeming qualities can draw readers further into your story); motive: the perpetrator should have a good reason for committing the crime; and relationship to narrator.

Big Theme:  What do I mean by this?  First, forgive me for including it because, unlike the other points above, this one isn't really a rule.  What I mean is that, at least for me personally, I like to try to fit in some bigger, overarching theme, that explains the crime or plays a role in its solution.  This will, in the end, make your story bigger, more meaningful.  For example, you could address the issue of racism when solving a crime.  Or mental illness.  Or money, power or corruption.  Deceit, treachery, family relations, religion.  The list is endless.  And, no, it is not essential.  Agatha Christie rarely had an overarching theme.  But to my mind it's what sets many good novels apart from the great ones.

Period Films: Why is the Hair So Bad? Writers Don't Make this Mistake

Thank god for Netflix.  After binging over the past weeks on Breaking Bad, Orange is the New Black and The Walking Dead, last night I decided to enjoy a bit of retro schlock that I found on an internet list of best films on Netflix: Mel Gibson's Braveheart.  While I readily admit to thoroughly enjoying the movie, I struggled to get past the hair, that mane of tinted '90's locks atop the Scottish hero's head that looks more Kurt Cobain than William Wallace.

Which led me to think of a bigger question, that is: Why are Hollywood period dramas so bad with the hair?  The thing is, we're supposed to be transported into another era, another realm.  And movies often do this very well.  But for some reason, no matter what the era or the century, the stars typically have thoroughly modern hair (though often the supporting characters actually have more realistic period styles).

I will be the first to admit that when watching a new period piece I don't notice this.  The hair just looks normal and does not distract from whatever 'time' is supposed to be portrayed.  But as time passes, the anachronism becomes apparent.

Liz Taylor in Cleopatra? I would bet that audiences at the time were wowed by the authentic historical recreation.  Watch it now and it's difficult to get past that perfectly coiffed bundle of 1960's hair atop Cleopatra's head.

Kate Winslet's hair in Sense and Sensibility?  Looks pretty '90's if you ask me.

I don't wish to belabor the point as (I'll be the first to admit) it is a petty one.  And one that applies to women more than men as all you need to do for a man in a period film is plop a top hat atop the leading man's head.  But I do wish that, when going to such great lengths to accurately recreate a specific time or place, that more would be done to make authentic those mops atop the stars' heads.

While I have focused here on movies, the real advice goes out to authors of period fiction.  Don't make this same type of mistake.  Pay attention to details, including appearance.  Readers are an astute lot and historical errors will detract from their enjoyment.

How to Write a Memoir: Advice from a Novice

I finally finished my memoir, Behind the Codeine Curtain, and will be publishing bits and pieces of it in coming posts.  It's not exactly an easy read but what I've been through hasn't been easy either.  Crazy Russian oligarchs anyone?  Losing your family?  Addiction?  Betrayal?  Theft?  

But I'm proud that I was able to honestly address everything that's happened and to avoid the sugar coating that tends to creep into many memoirs I read.  And this is a story of redemption, which always helps to lessen the pain, a little like finding light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Please take the advice I am about to give with a grain of salt.  Writing is highly personal, memoir writing particularly so, since we all have our own unique stories to tell.  I don't hold myself out as an expert.  Though I have received a ton of positive feedback and interest from agents, my memoir is still not published and - who knows? - may never be.  But I am optimistic that eventually it will find its place on the shelf.  

With that said, here's the advice:

1.  Honesty, Honesty and More Honesty.  

This is the key to writing a good memoir.  Don't sugarcoat.  Set things out as you remember them.  Examine your memories, twist them and pull them, try to recall as best you can.  Be faithful to your memories and your feelings.  Seek others out who were around to see if your memory matches theirs, go through old documents.  If you kept a journal, read it carefully. 

If you plan to gussy things up to make them more interesting or to invent scenes, then just stick to fiction, since that is what you are really writing.  Every life is interesting and deserves to be told.  There is no need for invention, which is a disservice to yourself and, more importantly, to your readers, who, when picking up a memoir, are expecting a version of the truth. 

Why do I say 'a version of the truth'?  Anyone who has written a memoir, or tried to, realizes that memory can be a slippery thing.  You may remember something one way, someone else at the very same event may remember it differently.  It can be extremely difficult (if not impossible) to remember every word of dialogue spoken in a conversation.  And truth can be selective as well based upon what we choose to emphasize and highlight.  

So tell your truth as best you can.  There is no right and wrong other than to invent things for the sake of the story that you know did not really happen.  It is your story.  Tell it how you want, highlighting the events that you think further the narration and tell the story you want to be told.

2.  Write for Yourself First, for Others Later.

I must admit that when I set out to write my memoir I initially violated this rule.  When I sat down and began to write I was writing for my children.  I wanted them to have access to my story later, when they are adults, in order to better understand the things that I did that affected them, hurt them.  

And while this may be an admirable goal (and one, in fact, that I never fully let go of), I quickly realized that I needed to write the memoir for myself, without ulterior motives.  The problem with ulterior motives is that they tend to distort our vision, causing us to highlight certain things over others as we play to an unseen audience.  By writing to my children I wasn't being wholly honest to myself, telling the story that I wanted to be told.  I was writing what I thought they'd later want to hear.  So though I do still hope that at some point in their lives they sit down and find fulfillment in my memoir, I wrote it for myself first of all, for them later.

There are many unseen audiences that authors play to, not just children as in my case: book buyers, loved ones, colleagues, the marketplace.  And while it doesn't hurt to keep in mind these various audiences as you set about your work, don't play to them or you will do yourself a disservice.  It's your life and your story after all.

3.  Memoir Writing is Therapeutic.

Before I began to write my memoir I was a mess: a recovering addict, exiled from my family and my former life, consumed by guilt, struggling to survive despite all the pain I had caused others.  

I wish I could say that writing my memoir was a magic elixir that turned everything around.  It didn't. I am still an addict who struggles with his sobriety, still kept apart from my children. 

But it was part of a process and, by the time I reached the last word on the last page, I was a better person, more at peace with my actions, better able to understand what I had done and why.  I tend to compartmentalize, block out painful memories as I continue blithely about my life.  Memoir writing forced me to open up those compartments and think about them, about my actions.  I understand that not everyone is like me, prone to compartmentalization or rationalization, but I firmly believe that memoir writing has as many therapeutic values as there are writers.  Are you shy and reticent?  Writing a memoir can help you find your voice.  Troubled by past actions?  Writing will help you think through them.

That said, writing is not a panacea.  And it can be very painful.  Multiple times when writing my memoir I drove myself to tears.  And, of course, writing all about me, me, me can be a narcissistic exercise if you don't broaden out your account to encompass others.  

But, at least for me, writing my memoirs helped turn my life around.  And I highly recommend it to others.

Cunilingus Cupcake: The Element of Shock in Good Writing

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Born in the U.S.A. (But Mistaken for an Immigrant)

I have a colleague at work, Bridget. She's a nice woman, very Wisconsin, to use bad grammar.  Her screen saver is a picture of her on a snowmobile, she yells "Go Packers" at the end of her voicemail, and on a shelf behind her desk she placed a stuffed Bucky Badger doll wearing a cheesehead hat. Like I said, very Wisconsin.

But I'm not complaining.  I enjoy working with her though our paths don't cross every day.  Over the months, though, several of her mannerisms caught my attention, not in an overtly negative way but because they seemed mildly strange.  For example, when talking with me she spoke louder and slower than with other colleagues.  She was also prone to explaining basic things that every Wisconsinite should know, like how to grill brats.  And after using 'big' words she would occasionally turn to me to explain: "diligent, that means hardworking" she once said.  I chalked it all up to her wanting to seem smart, or, conversely, that she thought I was mildly impaired or had bad hearing.  I don't have a complex about my IQ, so didn't mind.

Then, last week she called me up with a request.  "Eli," she said, "My daughter is a freshman in college and has an assignment to interview a foreigner and then write a report.  You're the only foreigner I know.  Do you mind if she interviews you?"

My mouth dropped in surprise.  "Does living abroad for many years count?" I asked.  "I'm a red blooded American just like you, U.S. born and raised."

Bridget stuttered and stumbled, apologized and quickly hung up the phone.  It was an enlightening moment though because her past behavior suddenly became clear.  Now I understood why she spoke with me loud and slow, why she explained basic things, why she treated me as a mildly impaired nut case.

And it also made me think what it means to live as a foreigner in the U.S.  I had always thought that the issues that a foreigner must face are such things as overt discrimination, lack of understanding, miscommunication.  In other words, the big things.  I didn't think about all the small, subtle moments, things that are not overtly hostile but may possibly even be motivated out of good will: being treated as the 'other' or as someone with a mild impairment, explanations about basic things that the listener already knows.

For me, Bridget was an isolated case.  If everyone had treated me like she does than it would have been different, like living in some strange Twilight Zone world.  Maybe these are the kind of issues more commonly faced by foreigners in less immigrant-populated places away from the coasts.  I don't know. But at least now I knew that I hadn't been imagining Bridget's off-kilter relations with me.  And it made me curious whether subtle mistreatment (if that is the right word) is something that many foreign-born Americans must deal with.

As for me, I plan to ask Bridget at some point why she thought I was a foreigner - did she hear it from someone else or detect some mild accent from my years spent abroad?  But for now I'm content just to observe.  I'm curious if, now that she knows I was born in the U.S., she'll begin to treat me differently.

How to Write

I recently finished a whodunit, a crime/fiction novel based in a tiny town in Wisconsin - the middle of nowhere.  The story came out well and I am (rightly I think) proud of it - of the suspense, of the surprise twists, of the original voice of the narrator.  It ain't Agatha Christie, but it ain't bad neither (as my narrator would say).

But as I finished I began to reflect back on the writing process, in the way that famous authors do when asked in interviews how they write.  For aspiring authors, this is an endless source of fascination, as if some magic formula can be discovered by learning how other authors do it.   Slate.com recently had an entire series on the creative process, looking at (for example) whether alcohol and drugs help or hinder the creative process.  I enjoy these accounts as much as the next person, but in my view they should be taken with a grain of salt.  The fact is that there are as many approaches as there are writers.

I suppose there are certain general camps, stereotypes if you will.  There are the 'creative' types who plunge bravely ahead without a roadmap, building characters and discovering where they lead them.  There are the planners, who meticulously trace out every plot twist and turn in elaborate outlines before ever putting pen to paper.  And there are the researchers, who feel they must become an expert on every topic they plan to address in print.  And there are various approaches to the act of writing itself that I suppose could be considered 'types' as well:  the procrastinators who spend the day surfing the net instead of writing, the sloggers who commit to X number of words per day whether the result is art or schlock, those who wait (and wait and wait) for divine inspiration to fill the page.

With these types in my head, I thought back to my writing process and I realized that it was difficult for me to place myself into a camp.  I know what I am not: I am not an obsessive planner who outlines every chapter and every plot twist ahead of time.  When I do that, the writing process, for me, becomes boring and the prose reflects my attitude - I feel as if the creative moment has already passed and I am just slogging along like a mechanic to fill the page.  I am also not someone brave (or foolhardy) enough to set out without any roadmap at all.  I tried that once and ended up with a manuscript that felt cobbled-together, like a Hollywood script that has been through 50 script doctors.

What works best for me is to take the time before I write to think of a concept that is both interesting to me personally and which (I hope) will catch the eye of agents and publishers.   As any aspiring writer knows, this can be a draining, difficult task.  It requires thought, analysis, consideration and - yes - creativity.  I'm not saying I'm an expert (not even close) but I have written before without doing this and the results have always been messy.  The fact is that many books live or die based on a two-line concept. I'm not saying I like that, but the trick for me is to try to find something that fits into an established niche while at the same time sparks my interest and leaves room for creativity.

Beyond that, I consider how the book should begin and end, so that I know generally where I am starting and where I am going.  That often changes as I progress, but it's helpful to me to have a vague roadmap in my head.  Beyond that, I skip all the detailed outlining, focusing rather on the parts I like best: creating characters, fitting everything together like a jigsaw puzzle, building my own little world that I can inhabit while I'm sitting here alone before my screen.  For me, it often helps to have real people and places in mind to serve as a base, a starting point if you will.

And, finally (maybe this is my journalism background talking) I am not scared to go back and tear up what I've already written.  Even the best authors require editing, and the more you are able to edit your own work the better it will be.  This can be hard - after seeing the same words 100 times skills of critical analysis tend to go right out the window.  Two things help me in looking with a fresh eye at my work: first, I print the text out on paper.  For some reason, this helps me review more critically than when I'm staring at a screen.  Second, I let the manuscript sit,  untouched for a few days before coming back to it to edit.  It's amazing all the mistakes I find by doing that.

The moral of this post, if there is any, is to find what works for you.  Maybe my process will serve as your roadmap.  Maybe someone else's.  Maybe you have your own unique approach.  But the main thing is to get writing.  If you don't do that you'll never be a writer.