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Sometimes it's not so fun writing what you know. I've lived in a small farming town all my life--so small that we only have one road running through it. So small that the biggest event in recent years was the opening of a Safeway.
When I was a little girl and first started writing stories, my characters got to escape. They left the cow-scented riverbanks for sparkling oceans, and the abandoned antique stores for darkened cathedrals. I just couldn't imagine what appeal my city could hold for any reader.
As I transitioned from short stories about heartbroken princesses and kid spies to the beginnings of a poetry collection, I discovered a device for livening up my prose without leaving my hometown: memory. Maybe you think this is a way of cheating the system... after all, it's still technically writing "what you know." But writing from memories--the deeper-seated the better--can often be a fresh, welcome challenge from trying to squeeze inspiration from ordinary life.
Writing from memory keeps writer's block away. Well, at least some of it. Instead of trying to conjure up subjects for stories, poems, or novels, you have it all there in your head. How did you feel when your best friend in kindergarten smashed a frog in your driveway one summer afternoon? (True story... I can still hear her mother yelling, "Honey, we don't kill God's creatures!")
Writing from memory lets you travel across states, countries, and time. My family used to love traveling. Hawaii, New York City, and the Cinque Terra are all places I long to revisit. Even more, I long to write in foreign countries and faraway cities, recording strange new experiences and impressions. Since I'm now a broke college grad, I can't afford to jet off to Europe or South America just to vacation and write poetry. Instead, I try to reimagine the time I've already spent there. What were my first impressions of Maui? Did I enjoy the Louvre more than Disneyland Paris?
Writing from memory brings out the emotion in your work. In poetry, I feel like simple observations need to say something deeper about life. If I look at a flower in the middle of a junkyard, I want to express a sense of loneliness or hopefulness. Oftentimes I'll find myself struggling to pick an emotion that fits whatever scene I'm describing. But when turning to a memory, the emotion is already there--in fact, emotions strongly color just about every memory I have. It's a lot easier to recall the anger I felt when my sister lost my stuffed puppy at the fair than it is to pretend I know how a flower feels.
Whether you are looking for new ways to describe your characters' lives or are simply disenchanted with your own city, try writing from your memories for a change. It can open up new ideas, remind you why you love a familiar place, or inspire you to reexamine your favorite stories.
When I was a little girl and first started writing stories, my characters got to escape. They left the cow-scented riverbanks for sparkling oceans, and the abandoned antique stores for darkened cathedrals. I just couldn't imagine what appeal my city could hold for any reader.
As I transitioned from short stories about heartbroken princesses and kid spies to the beginnings of a poetry collection, I discovered a device for livening up my prose without leaving my hometown: memory. Maybe you think this is a way of cheating the system... after all, it's still technically writing "what you know." But writing from memories--the deeper-seated the better--can often be a fresh, welcome challenge from trying to squeeze inspiration from ordinary life.
Writing from memory keeps writer's block away. Well, at least some of it. Instead of trying to conjure up subjects for stories, poems, or novels, you have it all there in your head. How did you feel when your best friend in kindergarten smashed a frog in your driveway one summer afternoon? (True story... I can still hear her mother yelling, "Honey, we don't kill God's creatures!")
Writing from memory lets you travel across states, countries, and time. My family used to love traveling. Hawaii, New York City, and the Cinque Terra are all places I long to revisit. Even more, I long to write in foreign countries and faraway cities, recording strange new experiences and impressions. Since I'm now a broke college grad, I can't afford to jet off to Europe or South America just to vacation and write poetry. Instead, I try to reimagine the time I've already spent there. What were my first impressions of Maui? Did I enjoy the Louvre more than Disneyland Paris?
Writing from memory brings out the emotion in your work. In poetry, I feel like simple observations need to say something deeper about life. If I look at a flower in the middle of a junkyard, I want to express a sense of loneliness or hopefulness. Oftentimes I'll find myself struggling to pick an emotion that fits whatever scene I'm describing. But when turning to a memory, the emotion is already there--in fact, emotions strongly color just about every memory I have. It's a lot easier to recall the anger I felt when my sister lost my stuffed puppy at the fair than it is to pretend I know how a flower feels.
Whether you are looking for new ways to describe your characters' lives or are simply disenchanted with your own city, try writing from your memories for a change. It can open up new ideas, remind you why you love a familiar place, or inspire you to reexamine your favorite stories.
Lovely! Great way of looking at things.
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