A question I often encounter when teaching memoir is, 'How do I write this story without hurting those I love?' The fear that your version of events will upset people can be so debilitating that it may result in nothing being written at all.
Firstly, I tell my students not to worry! So much time will pass between their first explorations on the page and their memoir’s completion, with all the editorial stages in between when can change and omit material. Initially, it’s important simply to get the words down, to capture the events as you experienced, without the worm of doubt as obstruction.
Once you have a first draft, it will become apparent whether a particular character or exposing detail is important to the story. Annie Ernaux says that she can only write by imagining that no one will ever read her work. I admire her clarity, though I know from experience how undermining those potential readers can be to the writing process.
At some point you will need to ask yourself, why am I telling this story? Is there a message I want to share with the world?
Memoir can be a powerful political tool: it can expose wrongdoing; it can influence opinions; it can change laws. It is also a way for those who have felt marginalised to speak out, and lay the blame where it belongs.
Some stories are more important than the characters they involve. When this is the case, the decision is easy. You must write this, and in writing it, you must also find ways of protecting yourself and those directly affected by the story.
But memoir can also have a quieter purpose too – as a way of validating a personal experience. My own memoir was primarily about my father (who was dead when I wrote it), but it was also about my mother, who is still alive. Fortunately mother is a writer too, and understood what I was trying to achieve. She read various drafts as the book evolved and I passed her a final draft, asking her to mark those sections that involved or affected her. She took a red pen to the manuscript – but the final decisions were mine.
Some changes would have altered my point of view or voice, muddying the integrity of the entire work. We discussed anything I didn’t agree with and those discussions helped us understand each other better, and brought us closer in ways we hadn’t imagined. The process gave my mother agency on a book that was challenging for her, but it also helped me interrogate those sections she queried, and made sure I only included what was wholly necessary.
You may think that my father not being alive made it easier, but writing about someone who is not alive to defend themselves is also ethically tricky. I have written a version of his life that is very different from what his own version would have been, and it forms part of his legacy.
In a small gesture to his privacy, I did not name him in the book. In fact, I didn’t name anyone – but referred to them by names that represent elements of their character, like the Great Dane or the Viking.
Memoirist Mary Karr suggests we each draw up a code of practice, which would be unique to every writer, as we each have our own moral compass. My code includes not naming the people I am writing about.
If you want to have a future relationship with someone in your memoir, I suggest you inform them they may appear in your story, but I agree with Mary Karr that it’s best not to show them the text until you are approaching the final draft. At this point, I suggest you send it to everyone who features in it.
If you hear nothing, take this as a good sign. If someone requests amends, be prepared for a difficult conversation – on the understanding that those discussions will bring fresh experience into the light. They might not agree with your viewpoint, but this will give you a chance to expand and defend yourself – which will help you prepare for when your work is tested on publication.
Writing a code of practice makes writing memoir a considered thing, something you have thought about during its formation. We can never predict how someone is going to respond, but at least we can say we tried to do the right thing. ■
TRY THIS
Here are some more ideas for what might be included in a code of practice:
◗ In your memoir, don’t assume you know what other people were feeling at the time. We can only offer our own versions of events.
◗ Write your whole memoir first, then put on what Melissa Febos calls ‘Mom Goggles’, which are glasses that represent your mother – to identify which details might need to be cut.
This article first appeared in Issue 98.
