The other day, I came up with an idea for a story, and then hours later, I forgot. When I remembered, I realized the subject had to do with memory. How fitting.
I began my writing journey on Medium.com in January 2021. Back then, writing was easy. I had a lifetime of subjects to write about. I was on a writing tear.
As the months passed, I found less to write about. How could that be? With over sixty years of living, how could I have written about it all?
There’s so much I don’t remember. Too many conversations became one-liners; months, days, and hours simmered into a momentary glimpse. Had I known in my youth my life would be fodder for later review, I’d have kept better notes.
You only live once, we tell ourselves. But not if you’re a personal essayist. When you write about your life, you repeatedly relive your circumstances.
I can’t say that I mind. I love that my readers know me so well they can practically write my biography. It’s nice to be recognized. It’s comforting to be appreciated and understood.
But how do other writers do it?
Daily, I read authors who reveal stories about themselves they haven’t yet told. How is it that after so many years of disclosing highly confidential issues, forty-year-old Mary Lou only now chose to write about how her mother gave birth to her with a married man? Or that Greg decided to share his serious ski accident. The one preventing him from becoming the doctor he trained for.
Were these issues too personal or shoved down into the bowels of their psyche? I doubt it because they continuously post eye-catching things that have happened to themselves or those they know, and they do it weekly.
It makes me wonder what gems are hiding from me I’ve chosen to forget.
And how about those writers who remember intimate details — word for word? They say their story is non-fiction, but is that entirely true? How can they remember these situations so clearly?
My mother says I’m blessed at taking a minute in time and stretching it into a full-fledged incident. I give credit for that to my gift of gab. Ask me a question, and I’ll ask if you have an hour to hear my answer.
In two months, I’ll turn sixty-two. Since 2021, I’ve shared much of my life on Medium, yet there are many unspoken moments left to be told. But how many of those moments do I remember? How much detail can I recount?
Writers need a good memory.
And the consent to write about others who’ve touched our lives.
This month, I wrote a story about my kitten, Huey, and other delights, including those with humour, in honour of Halloween.
Six months later, our baby Huey still grows
Flash fiction: An actor’s fun Halloween story.
Flash fiction: When young vampires get sick.
Are you an autumn leaf lover, a Halloween junkie, or both?
I wish you all the joy this season brings.
Until next time, I wish you well.
As writers, we do draw from our lives, and it is incredible how much we can discover in the process. I'm sure there are countless more stories waiting to be told, whether you remember every detail or not. Your writing is a gift to your readers, and we appreciate the depth and authenticity you bring. Keep sharing those moments and stories with us, even if they come in fragments. We're here to read.
Having a good memory and enough willpower to do it when the feeling hits are two of the essential qualities of a good writer.