I recently completed the first draft of my memoir and filed it away to look at with a fresh set of peepers. Upon revisiting my work it was plain to see that, even in first draft form, it is nowhere near the level of writing I want. I had expected it to be poor quality so this wasn't a surprise, but what did surprise me was just how little of myself I had left on the page. It's a memoir and yet I've written at a distance. My standard of writing is not at a level that matches my ambition by some margin, so I'm a little unsure where to go next. I enjoy writing, but I'm not overly enthusiastic about continuing to rewrite the memoir until my standards improve. It is important to me that I tell my story in the best way I'm able. So, where do I go from here. I'll continue to write of course, and learn from the experienced writers on here - some of whom have been fantastic. But other than that I don't feel I'm learning quickly enough. I could sign up for some courses, that's one idea. Unfortunately there are no writing workshops on the island I live. I will continue to post bits and pieces for critique. Short stories aren't really my thing, but perhaps I should do more. What I'd really like is a mentor, since I learn best by examples, rewrites and corrections of my own writing. I'm in no way unhappy with this situation, it is what it is. I'd just like to learn a little faster! NC
I sit here, uncomfortably, as an unhealthy torrent of overthinking floods my brain. Is this too big for me? It's MY story, no-one else can tell it. Thus far, my attempts at creating a readable memoir have resulted in simply telling the stories, as they happened. Not good enough. You need to explore the themes, the universal truths in the personal scenarios which are applicable to all. I can only write one way, and the lack of self reflection in my work renders it meaningless, dull and hollow. I could finish my book within a week if I continue this way. But what would be point? Without deeper meaning, some may find my situations tragic, or the anecdotes amusing but.. nothing more than that. The idea was always to present an ultimately uplifting piece, for others to find comfort and hope in the pages of my book. Ideas I'm failing to illustrate or convey. And so I sit here, uncomfortably, as a torrent of unhealthy thinking floods my brain. Is this too big for me?
