There is always an arc in a story because there is always a beginning and an end. It may meander, it may rise and fall, but a story arcs due to the nature of time. Learn more about it here.
Thanks for this, Jennifer! Having written first "shitty draft" of my memoir, my first editor noted that I must go deeper into my emotions on a lot of the chapters. I "tell the story" but don't tell the inner arc very well in some pieces of it.
Why can it be difficult? I think it's because it's the "being vulnerable" part of writing your story. Yes, we can go back in time and describe the events that we remember, but why do we remember them? Maybe (probably?) because there is an emotion behind the memory. We have to dig around a bit for that emotion to come back to us--what were we feeling, really feeling, about that memory that makes it worth sharing? THIS is, I think, why I was compelled to write my story: to dig around, loosen those emotional pieces, bring them to light, and make sense of them.
I've written in terms of The Heroine's Journey, but I love thinking of writing with the inner and outer arcs, bringing them together in the end.
Well done! There you go. You've got it. Of course it's being vulnerable part. Yes! Our lives are filled with deep, often unreconcilable pain, and we (as memoir writers) strive to touch (gracefully) that pain in our prose but in a culture that tells us to "get over it," and that we are weak if we don't "get over it," and that we are narcissistic for turning inward to "get over it," well, we often play it safe by reporting. Even worse, we might put a spin on that pain, and offer up a pithy, yet untrue antidote...for example: I got over my pain by running this marathon, or sailing around the world, or meeting this guy...no. There is no easy fix and to say otherwise is to prove you haven't done the work yet. BUT...we memoir writers must be careful, because going too deep will drown us too. Right? So, it's a balance.
The biggest question I ask right now, as I create, is "What part of this is the wound I still need to tend, and what part of this is ready for a reader?" The question helps immensely because it helps me see that my pain is mine...and I'm still processing...yes? Then I can work the underlying hurt but not let it torpedo the story I'm writing.
Tracy, bottom line here is that you've got it, you're on it and now, you've got another tool. I'm glad it helped. More, many more, are on the way.
You make something so difficult so much clearer. My agent had to really push me to dig deeper in my proposal, in the sample chapter and chapter summaries. It's so hard not only to share the vulnerability but to even get to a place where you uncover it. Your explanation of the inner arc and outer arc make for a really tangible "formula."
As I was reading Tracy's comment about why we remember certain things, I thought about a scene in my book where my dad said he almost got carried off his front porch during a flood. I mention it in my book but I don't do an inner arc, and I've never really gotten to a point where I know what that inner arc would be. But reading Tracy's comment, I realized it aligns with a main theme in my book... that my dad was always about to slip away. The flood was one of the first times it felt like my dad could just vanish. I'm so going to add this realization to the scene!
Nice. There you go. And we cannot see what we cannot see...right? Time, experience, the realization that all things are connected...it's all there. And what was that for your dad, almost getting carried off, what did he learn about life and himself that he was trying to pass to you? And then, yes, of course, there is the understanding of your own fear he would slip away but also the precariousness of life itself, and the life of the father who seems so solid and unmovable. The child learns that even this father is not above fragility and if that is the case, well, where is her protection? And the flood, well, the flood is loaded with imagery, isn't it? Water=the collective and emotions repressed. Noah. The return to that from which we began. Baptism. A veritable shopping mall of symbolism. Picking through all that is "going deeper" to find what is bubbling beneath.
And...it's curious to me that people (often the gatekeepers like agents, editors and publishers) will say "go deeper, dig deeper" but aren't clear about what you are digging for. Why? Well, often many who give this advice haven't "gone deeper" themselves, and so it's a catch phrase that connects to their own longing to "go deeper" but without actual experience behind it. This means the suggestion is ultimately useless and confusing. To work through this, it helps to ask for examples. "I hear you and can you offer an example from another writer who went deep in the manner you are suggesting?" And put it back on them. Pointed questions can be empowering too. You move out of wanting their approval or considering the feedback rejection and move into...help. "Help me see." Now you are in it together and that's empowering too.
Wow, I like that imagery of the flood representing returning to that from which we began. And that's good advice about asking the gatekeepers for clarifications. I did do that with my agent some, and it was helpful.
I went back and read my intro. The outer arc of paragraph one. Having a conversation with my mom while she received chemo. Inner act of paragraph one: Wanting to feel some kind of purpose. Wanting to connect with my mother. Feeling surprised that she could see me as a writer and planting a seed in me that maybe I could do it too.
Thanks for this, Jennifer! Having written first "shitty draft" of my memoir, my first editor noted that I must go deeper into my emotions on a lot of the chapters. I "tell the story" but don't tell the inner arc very well in some pieces of it.
Why can it be difficult? I think it's because it's the "being vulnerable" part of writing your story. Yes, we can go back in time and describe the events that we remember, but why do we remember them? Maybe (probably?) because there is an emotion behind the memory. We have to dig around a bit for that emotion to come back to us--what were we feeling, really feeling, about that memory that makes it worth sharing? THIS is, I think, why I was compelled to write my story: to dig around, loosen those emotional pieces, bring them to light, and make sense of them.
I've written in terms of The Heroine's Journey, but I love thinking of writing with the inner and outer arcs, bringing them together in the end.
Well done! There you go. You've got it. Of course it's being vulnerable part. Yes! Our lives are filled with deep, often unreconcilable pain, and we (as memoir writers) strive to touch (gracefully) that pain in our prose but in a culture that tells us to "get over it," and that we are weak if we don't "get over it," and that we are narcissistic for turning inward to "get over it," well, we often play it safe by reporting. Even worse, we might put a spin on that pain, and offer up a pithy, yet untrue antidote...for example: I got over my pain by running this marathon, or sailing around the world, or meeting this guy...no. There is no easy fix and to say otherwise is to prove you haven't done the work yet. BUT...we memoir writers must be careful, because going too deep will drown us too. Right? So, it's a balance.
The biggest question I ask right now, as I create, is "What part of this is the wound I still need to tend, and what part of this is ready for a reader?" The question helps immensely because it helps me see that my pain is mine...and I'm still processing...yes? Then I can work the underlying hurt but not let it torpedo the story I'm writing.
Tracy, bottom line here is that you've got it, you're on it and now, you've got another tool. I'm glad it helped. More, many more, are on the way.
Hmmm. Contemplating "What part of this is the wound I still need to tend, and what part of this is ready for a reader?"
You make something so difficult so much clearer. My agent had to really push me to dig deeper in my proposal, in the sample chapter and chapter summaries. It's so hard not only to share the vulnerability but to even get to a place where you uncover it. Your explanation of the inner arc and outer arc make for a really tangible "formula."
As I was reading Tracy's comment about why we remember certain things, I thought about a scene in my book where my dad said he almost got carried off his front porch during a flood. I mention it in my book but I don't do an inner arc, and I've never really gotten to a point where I know what that inner arc would be. But reading Tracy's comment, I realized it aligns with a main theme in my book... that my dad was always about to slip away. The flood was one of the first times it felt like my dad could just vanish. I'm so going to add this realization to the scene!
Nice. There you go. And we cannot see what we cannot see...right? Time, experience, the realization that all things are connected...it's all there. And what was that for your dad, almost getting carried off, what did he learn about life and himself that he was trying to pass to you? And then, yes, of course, there is the understanding of your own fear he would slip away but also the precariousness of life itself, and the life of the father who seems so solid and unmovable. The child learns that even this father is not above fragility and if that is the case, well, where is her protection? And the flood, well, the flood is loaded with imagery, isn't it? Water=the collective and emotions repressed. Noah. The return to that from which we began. Baptism. A veritable shopping mall of symbolism. Picking through all that is "going deeper" to find what is bubbling beneath.
And...it's curious to me that people (often the gatekeepers like agents, editors and publishers) will say "go deeper, dig deeper" but aren't clear about what you are digging for. Why? Well, often many who give this advice haven't "gone deeper" themselves, and so it's a catch phrase that connects to their own longing to "go deeper" but without actual experience behind it. This means the suggestion is ultimately useless and confusing. To work through this, it helps to ask for examples. "I hear you and can you offer an example from another writer who went deep in the manner you are suggesting?" And put it back on them. Pointed questions can be empowering too. You move out of wanting their approval or considering the feedback rejection and move into...help. "Help me see." Now you are in it together and that's empowering too.
Wow, I like that imagery of the flood representing returning to that from which we began. And that's good advice about asking the gatekeepers for clarifications. I did do that with my agent some, and it was helpful.
I went back and read my intro. The outer arc of paragraph one. Having a conversation with my mom while she received chemo. Inner act of paragraph one: Wanting to feel some kind of purpose. Wanting to connect with my mother. Feeling surprised that she could see me as a writer and planting a seed in me that maybe I could do it too.
How did I do?