Memoir Again

Last night there was a memoir class. Well it was sort of a memoir class. The newspaper article said that a published author would present five easy steps to writing your memoir. Even though the only published book I could find for this author was a children's book, I figured it wouldn't hurt to check it out. So I did.

I was greeted by an elderly man, whom I will call Bob. Since there were only three other people there, all female, it was safe to assume that Bob would be our instructor. One of the women turned out to be the author's wife, the other two were a mother and daughter team.

The five us gathered around a small table in the back of a used bookstore, surrounded by ceiling high shelves of musty old books. On the table were a few books about writing, publishing, and grammar as well as a few self-published (vanity press) books by our author friend and his wife.
After a short introduction Bob hands us a lesson sheet. First on the agenda, draw a footprint of the house where you grew up. "Which one?" I ask. "There must have been at least eight of them."

"Pick any one. It doesn't matter for this exercise." He says.

And so I start to draw the plans for our old farmhouse in Marne. That is, I draw the layout of the first floor including the location of the stairs. Bob announces "Time's up."

We go around the table and talk about what memories have surfaced with these drawings. I say, "I fell down those stairs once, the milkman came to the kitchen door every week and gave me a small plastic charm, and I can't remember anything about the upstairs except that I had a small room on the right side of the staircase."

Bob says, "that's okay. You will remember as you write your memoir." I wonder if that's a guarantee.

Bob gives us a few more suggestions about writing, explains print on demand and vanity publishing, reads the first chapter from his memoir and then thanks us for coming.

I leave thinking... I'm not sure what Bob's 5 easy steps are.I think I have written more than anyone else who was there. Anyone can publish anything if they have enough money.Why bother?

I get home and dig out every piece of my writing that I can find including all my old journals, weblogs, Themestream articles, and college essays. Three hours later I have weeded out all the things that are fiction or detrimental to other's well being if published. I end up with 52 pages, completely boring. Why bother?