National Life Writing Month
November is National Life Writing Month—or National Lifewriting Month or National Memoir Writing Month, depending on who you talk to—and it was dreamed up by memoirist and ghostwriter, Denis Ledoux. While I don’t know exactly how long it’s been around, I’ve found newspaper articles and blog entries that date back as far as 2010. Life writing is an umbrella term for personal narratives that includes memoir, biography, autobiography, personal essays, letters, travel writing, diaries, and illness narrative among many others.
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood
Having a month-long observance for Life Writing—coinciding with NaNoWriMo, so us non-fiction writers don’t feel left out—is an excellent reason to hit up your local public library and check out a memoir or autobiography. Or it can be the catalyst you need to sit down and do your own life writing: sift through your memories or dig out an old photo album and grab a pen and paper—or the word processor of your choice—and describe what comes to mind, write down how you feel about those memories. Don’t worry about spelling and grammar—you can take care of that later—hence the famous apocryphal quote not said by Ernest Hemingway: “write drunk; edit sober”—get drunk on …umm… the memories and let the pen do its thing. You don’t have to write about something earth-shattering; you can write about anything that you’ve experienced. It could be about being named a Fulbright Scholar or a particularly fun party with your friends. And, if you like what you’ve written—after the sober editing—you can build on it and write your memoir and, if that’s not your bag, you’ve preserved your relationship with that memory for you to reflect on later.
Photo by cottonbro
As I am writing this, it happens to my middle sister’s birthday. She passed away in 1992; she would have been 38 years old today. So, I’m going to do a little of my own life writing right here:**A quick content note: discussions of childhood cancer/leukemia; description of some things that triggered a panic attack because of claustrophobia, social anxiety Missy was diagnosed with leukemia when she was three. They caught it so late the estimated likelihood of her surviving the next five years was terrifyingly small but they caught it early enough that the doctors thought her body would respond to treatment. So, she went to Kosair Children’s and started a treatment plan.At some point along the very stressful way, she was referred to The Dream Factory. Everyone was surprised at Missy’s requested dream—she could have asked to go to Disney World or to meet someone famous!—a swing set. That was all she wanted. So, a few folks from The Dream Factory came to our house, out in the middle of nowhere central Kentucky, a built her a swing set. We’d spend our summers out on that swing set with one of my cousins and a one of our neighbors—once, the four of us came up with a whole dance routine to “Stop in the Name of Love.” We demanded that Mom come outside and watch us dance, while singing whatever lyrics our young child brains could remember and making up the rest. It was ridiculous and so much fun.Missy responded to the chemotherapy and radiation and the leukemia went into remission in 1989. She was thrown a happy remission party in the church basement. She was able to go back to school. We continued on being kids. Until the next year. The leukemia had taken hold of her bone marrow once again. Missy went back into treatment.She also got another wish and, this time, she wished for Disney World. So, in 1991, we all packed up and we were flown down to Florida, by way of a connecting flight in Nashville. It was the first time Missy, Cassie (our baby sister), or me had been on a plane. Missy and I were thrilled—you can see our big cheesy grins—Mom, on the other hand, had flown before and she was not thrilled about the prospect of being in the air again. We kept trying to get her to look out the window and she’d shoot a quick glance in the direction of the window and do that “mom is busy”-style “Mhmm,” as she went back to trying to ignore that we were tens of thousands of feet in the air.
Author’s own personal photographs
By the time we’d landed in Orlando, picked up the minivan that was rented for us, and made our way to the accommodations set up for us, we were all exhausted. The three of us kids were still absolutely stoked to go the Magic Kingdom but we were so tired and we acted accordingly. I’m sure that behavior would have absolutely annoyed Mom beyond belief were it not for her worry that we would have to turn around and leave without doing anything: Missy had developed a fever.I tried to be as chill as a nine-year old can manage in those circumstances; Missy was begging to stay, insisting that she felt fine (she didn’t—it was a pretty high fever); Cassie was a very excited, very tired toddler who was surrounded by a bunch of stressed out people and, remarkably, was also pretty chill, telling Mom and Missy, “it okay.” Miraculously, Missy’s fever did break overnight and her temperature was back to normal. After going through the checklist with Missy to see if she was actually okay, we started planning the day.I remember the vague outline of our trip itinerary: Magic Kingdom on the first day, then EPCOT, MGM Studios, and I can’t remember whether we went to the beach or Universal Studios on the fifth day but we did both toward the end of the trip. I remember Missy’s smile. She had a very distinct “I’m being told to smile” smile and then her genuine smile. I have all of the pictures from that trip and I have not seen a single one in which she’s not smiling her genuine smile.While we were at Universal Studios, Mom and Missy got stuck on the E.T. Adventure ride. I can only imagine being stuck on those “bikes” nearly at what feels like the apex of the ride as riders “fly” over a city. Mom was claustrophobic and had social anxiety disorder; I know that being stuck to this ride, in the dark, surrounded by strangers, in an unfamiliar setting had to have sent her into a serious panic attack. Missy, on the other hand, was an adventurous and delightfully mischievous kid. When they came out of the ride, Missy had this big, cheesy grin and Mom looked like she was going to faint.Missy, despite all her body and the chemo and radiation was putting her through, was a hopeful kid. She found joy where she could and she found it frequently but that trip was the happiest I ever saw her. Splashing in the waves; getting Goofy’s autograph’ riding the Teacups—both of us spinning the thing faster and faster until it looked like our dad was getting a little green; being surprised by the appearance of Chip and Dale while we were eating; even just watching the landscapes changing beneath us as we flew—she was just so happy. I like to remember her joy and wonder and laughter during that trip. She crammed so much “just being a kid” into every day we were in Florida and I’m so glad she had the chance to do that. And I’m so grateful that I have those memories with her, that I remember that smile.
Author’s own personal photograph
Happy 38th Birthday, Missy-Moo!__Alright. Now, it’s your turn. Go forth and write your life! Happy National Life Writing Month!