Personal essays

I've recently been reading The Norton Book of Personal Essays. I recommend this book to anyone who is interested in essay writing and memoir. As you might know, my thesis centered on creative nonfiction, and the personal essay is something that I've been studying lately. Some of the selections in this book are very good. Favorites so far: Willa Cather's A Chance Meeting, F. Scott Fitzgerald's Sleeping and Waking, and H.L. Mencken's Reflections on Journalism.

Hard work pays off -- for two of us

Last week was a busy week. My son, Michael (age 5), and I both graduated from our respective programs. He will be moving on from preschool and will start kindergarten in the fall. I graduated with my MA in English-Creative Writing from Missouri State University and, for the moment, plan to simply enjoy the diminished amount of stress that comes with finishing the degree -- and that pesky thesis. What will I do with all of my free time? Maybe I'll be a dad and tinker with that novel. What do you think?

Here is a photo of the two graduates. Enjoy!

"Cousin, you live, even if you dance to my tune"

I just picked up a copy of Writers on Writing, Volume II. I was struck by Dorothy Gallagher's essay: "Recognizing the Book that Needs to be Written."

As you know, my thesis is a series of creative nonfiction pieces. I have been struggling with what to include in my stories, how much truth there needs to be and whether everything must be shared.

The complete essay can be found here on the NY Times site. Here are a few exerpts from the essay that I thought I'd share:

I have never written fiction, and this memoir may be as close as I ever get to it. No more than a biography or a novel is memoir true to life. Because, truly, life is just one damn thing after another. The writer's business is to find the shape in unruly life and to serve her story. Not, you may note, to serve her family, or to serve the truth, but to serve the story. There really is no choice. A reporter of fact is in service to the facts, a eulogist to the family of the dead, but a writer serves the story without apology to competing claims.

***

Now you may ask: Just what is the relation of your memoir to the truth?

It is as close as it can be.

The moment you put pen to paper and begin to shape a story, the essential nature of life -- that one damn thing after another -- is lost. No matter how ambiguous you try to make a story, no matter how many ends you leave hanging, it's a package made to travel.

Everything that happened is not in my stories; how could it be? Memory is selective, storytelling insists on itself. But there is nothing in my stories that did not happen. In their essence they are true.

Or a shade of true.

***

What do you think about these ideas?

Snow days are great for productivity

Today was a great day.

Like a kid, I was excited to have a snow day. Usually, I enjoy getting up and going to work -- even on Mondays. But this morning I was still struggling with a mean sickness that has dogged me and the rest of my family for more than three weeks. So, it was nice to see that I'd have another day to recover. In the mean time, I was able to complete another 11 pages of my thesis and FINALLY finish Erik Larson's Devil in the White City. I just finished the book a few minutes before midnight.

If you haven't read this book, go out and buy it today. Fantastic book. It leaves no stone unturned. Great historic piece filled with suspense and mystery, as well as an in-depth look at one of the most influential happenings in our country's history -- the Chicago World's Fair.

The book only left me with one question. As a St. Louisan, I've always held tight to the legend that the massive Ferris wheel that appeared at the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair (but which debuted at the earlier exposition in Chicago) was dismanteled and is buried in Forest Park. Larson's book stops short of saying where those massive sections of steel went. So, Erik, if you're reading this, can you help me out on that??

Did I say it was a great book? I need to post some snippets, so you can see what I'm talking about.

A new book I'm reading

I hate to admit that I once again put down Sinclair Lewis' Main Street!

A colleague in the Missouri State University's Special Collections and Archives recommended Erik Larson's Devil in the White City. WOW!! This is a great historic novel -- so far. I picked it up at Barnes and Noble in Denver. I started reading it yesterday, and I can't put it down. It's the true story of a cunning and vicious serial killer who was taking advantage of the 1898 World's Fair in Chicago to lure and kill his victims. Larson switches each chapter between the architechts of the fair and the killer -- who could seriously be one of the sickest, most-vile in history. Larson (a former feature writer for the Wall Street Journal, shows that he pays attention to each and every sentence. Well done. I can't wait to get back to it!

It's also very encouraging, since my thesis is creative nonfiction.

Archival treasures -- and a little apology

First off, I want to apologize for the "little vacation" I took from this blog. It had nothing to do with the blog, other than the fact that I hadn't worked much -- if any -- on the novel or my thesis for about four weeks! I was preparing for a final, writing the paper for my linguistics course and gearing down for the Christmas break, which is now over.

This is crunch time for my thesis, as the first draft is due in February. I'm sticking with the creative non-fiction and have found some new inspiration for some essays that I will write.

Since I have been working at Missouri State University, I've been captivated by our archives in the Meyer Library. People actually donate documents and memorabilia from their lives that -- if combed through carefully -- tell fascinating stories.

When was the last time you "dug" through your own archives?

The Christmas break allowed me some time to do that. I am so blessed to have a mother that has boxed up most of the things from my childhood, as well as momentos, writings, etc. from high school and college years.

In my old bedroom closet sits a wooden toy box with a treasure trove of Eric memorabilia. Right now, it is only of interest to my mother and me; but, hopefully, my sons will one day enjoy browsing through the items.

This Christmas I was on a quest to prove that I was once a promising artist. I was scouring the Eric archives for a high school sketchbook. After locating it (and realizing that that path probably wasn't as promising as I believed), I also found a manilla envelope. In the envelope was the only hard copy of an essay that I wrote in 1994. I hadn't seen this essay since my senior year in high school, and I was very excited to find it.

The essay chronicled a four-hour visit with Baseball Hall of Fame broadcaster and longtime St. Louis Cardinal announcer Jack Buck -- a St. Louis legend, who is father to now uber-popular Joe Buck.

Over the years -- mostly at parties -- I have called forth my memories from that evening at KMOX radio. But this essay, which was written as part of a class project, filled in so many gaps that I had forgotten.

I intend to use this essay to help me write a portion of my thesis. Finding this work helped me to understand just how important "original" work can be -- especially when the goal is to provide accurate history.

I'm also convinced that EVERY life is interesting and adventurous in one way or another. That's why being a storyteller is so much fun!

Considering a change

I am very disgruntled with my creative nonfiction thesis project -- so disgruntled, in fact, that I'm considering a change. I want to write fiction! But I've taken no fiction writing courses because there haven't been any offered after 5 p.m., when I could take them.

Some challenges I've discovered with creative nonfiction:

1. It's tough to analyze yourself and to then put it down on paper.
2. When people are still living, it's tough to analyze them and put it down on paper -- for me, there is a genuine fear of upsetting someone. Facts are facts, and they should speak for themselves (in theory and within the confines of objective journalism); but...when delving into creative nonfiction, you let your judgements show, and that still seems pretty risky to me.
3. I've got some great nonfiction ideas, but I feel rushed to write those stories based upon a thesis deadline.
4. Right now, I want to write fiction -- plain and simple!

Any thoughts?

Creative Nonfiction

My master's thesis is (in plan and theory) a collection of short creative nonfiction pieces. I thought this project would be a natural extension of my journalism career. After all, in only five short years, I'd seen amazing things. I'd interviewed fascinating people. I'd had the chance to report on everything from murders and drug raids to county fairs, the Iraq War and local politics. And I'd experienced nearly every emotion. With that background and all of that flavor, it should be easy to write creatively about such things. Right?

Not so fast. I'm finding it to be a very tedious task. For months, I haven't been able to understand why my nonfiction work is sub-par. But I've had a recent revelation, and I'm going to share it here.

As a journalist, I was trained to collect the facts and report the story. At no point during the process was I allowed to interject my personal feelings or views into the story. Now, I have to write about me. How did I feel when I conducted the interview? What was I thinking when I interviewed that man convicted of killing a child? What a change! And what a challenge.

When writing fiction, authors can assume any identity. Yes, writers do interject themselves into their characters. But in the end, the character is a composite of many. With creative nonfiction, the main character is the author. And I guess I'm still uncomfortable with revealing my true self to the world (or, in this case, my professor).

And it's tough to share my true thoughts about people. For instance, when I analyze a family member in a piece, I mention everything I love about him. But I also announce to the readers my criticisms of him. But what if he reads this? Would he be offended? So I water it down -- just in case. It's kind of like opening your diary for the world to see. You reveal your vulnerabilities, your prejudices, even your language.

I'm just having a hard time doing that. I guess I'm too cautious. Anyone else have this problem?

RECOMMENDATION: A very good book of creative nonfiction is The Beholder's Eye: A Collection of America's Finest Personal Journalism, edited by Walt Harrington.