The Transformative Power of Writing to “The End”

As writers, we’re always writing! Writing and writing, it seems for a very long time, as if we will never get to the end. How do we know what the end of our story is, anyway, when we’re writing our memoir? We’re still living it!

So as memoirists, we must (eventually) decide what “the end” will be. But there are so many layers and angles, so many memories that matter. We’re taught to find the arc, stick to a topic, and bring it to a close. Stick to an outline. Easier said than done, right? We are made of so many stories! But if we hope to publish, we do need to find and weave the threads of our story toward an ending, at least of that particular book. Don’t worry, there are many more books we can write!

These kinds of queries are often part of our discussion in the NAMW coaching sessions I offer once a month on zoom. We gather together in a live zoom event and talk about all the stuff. Beginnings, endings, the forever muddy middle. And we talk about how writing changes us. We talk about what we believed our book was trying to be at the beginning, and those who have taken the very long and winding road toward the end, share their ahas and discoveries about what the book turned out to be. And how the end was not what they imagined.

The writers share things like: “I had no idea when it would end, or where, so I kept writing. I know all the teachers say to keep it tight, keep it small and focused, but I had to do a lot of writing to find out where I was going. Where my story wanted me to go and how it seemed to have a mind of its own.”

Exactly.

As we keep writing, we become melded into a process that is not entirely logical. Memoir writers are tuning in, much like a musician tunes into the flow of a phrase, the way the music lifts and dips, and how the musician needs to respond to the rhythm and tonalities, the heart of the music.

As a musician earlier in my life, I was lucky to be introduced to this kind of subtle, right brain knowing and sensing, and what a gift it has been. That kind of following the process bypasses the logical mind, the lists, the outlines. It leads us into realms of discovery—but voila,when we get there, we believe that we are lost! What happened to our lists and outlines?

But the muse, as we learn to listen to her, leads us into spaces of discovering not only our story, but who we are. Memoir is a path of learning, of becoming anew. Memoir invites us into that subtle listening to what our soul wants to explore.

The gift in memoir writing—all writing really—is that we become engaged in explorations that surprise us, a bit like world travelers. We travel indeed into our inner worlds, our memories, and our own hearts. We discover ourselves over and over again, and we sit back and go—what? Who is this? How did this new knowledge happen?

By freely writing!

So I invite you to allow yourself the luxury to write what you don’t know, write what you never thought you would write. You do not have to share it. You do not have to confess everything. Invite that part of you who loves discovery to keep writing. If you wish, you can name your muse. Claim her. She only wants your flowering.

As many of you know, I have been in the writing doldrums for a while, but I discovered something in that silence. That in that quiet and contemplation, there are diamonds. They are buried, and as we are moving along in the dark, we can’t see them. But as the light dawns, the light of curiosity, the light of desire to find words again, the treasure appears.

Stay tuned to some inspiration offerings coming from the National Association of Memoir Writers very soon! In the meantime, write your story!