Thomas Wolfe may have said it best with the title of his novel, You Can't Go Home Again. Which is to say, you can't expect the past to resemble the present – things change.
Memory is the same way, too.
Our memory depends as much on what actually happened as it does on who we are and who we've become. Some people remember growing up in a bad neighborhood and join the police force. Others remember the same neighborhood and become criminals. And still, others look back on the same street and remember a neighborhood full of hopscotching, rope jumping, laughing children. But is it possible that all of these memories could be right?
Finding the truth in memory:
As the writer begins pressing the keys that will form the first sentence of his memoir, he needs to travel back in time, to a place where the past can be revisited and repurposed for the present. But remembering is a difficult task – memory lane is a road often littered with potholes – and what a writer remembers may not always be what others remember, let alone what actually happened.
Like a suit stored in an attic, moths can attack a single memory and decimate the past with holes. As days turn to months, and months, years, memories lose their luster and fade. Enough times passes, some memories disappear altogether.
So too, some memories are actually invented in order to adequately complete the ongoing story of our lives. Others are inaccurate or twisted from accuracy in order to serve various psychological purposes. Memory defines us, and yet the organic, fragile way in which it defines us acts as a constant reminder of our own frailty, our own doubts and uncertainties about the past.
Essentially, not everything we remember is true.
And this poses a serious problem for the memoirist.
If we can't rely on our own memory, then what? If we can't believe the images we're 99 percent certain happened exactly the way we remember, then what? How can anyone write a memoir if memory is just a jigsaw puzzle with hundreds of missing pieces?
Tips for Writing a Truthful Memoir:
While similar questions have plagues philosophers for centuries, there are a few practical guidelines the memoirist can follow to ensure their memoir is as accurate and truthful as possible.
First, check your facts. No matter how certain you are that one building or one person existed at a certain time, research your subject and double check – it can't hurt.
Second, seek out witnesses. Find others who saw what you saw, heard what you heard. Have these witnesses read your content in order to verify its authenticity. While no one's memory is impeccable or flawless, as you amass the approval of others, your version of the truth will at least become less likely to refute.
Finally, let your memory speak for itself. Remember, memoir is not as factually rigid as an autobiography, and you can use this to your advantage. Of course, you want your facts to be accurate, and for those important facts you can't successfully verify, you should at least bracket with your observation and opinion. But one of the major benefits of memory is that it contains much more than facts. It also contains feelings, moods, thoughts – it sniffs out the most important, poignant and relevant details in order to focus on a given theme or crisis that obviously contributed to your identity.
All in all, maintain a balance with which you're most comfortable. You wouldn't be writing a memoir unless you felt compelled to share your particular stories with the world. Don't be afraid to allow the passion you have for your life surface in your writing, but always be sure to temper that passion with reality.
As human begins, we carry our memories with us, like a knapsack stuffed with sentimental objects. And though it may be true – we can never go home again – perhaps Maya Angelou was more correct when she said, "You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home either."
Back to top |