My memoir has been writing itself. How bizarre! Today I wrote 5,000 words. That never happens when I’m writing fiction. Well, actually, I wrote about 8,000 words during day one of the 3-day novella event, but it rendered me braindead. With fiction, daily word count goals in the thousands are just hard. While writing about real life, apparently not so much. I mean, I could easily blog all day. It becomes so much harder with pretend worlds. I’m not sure why.
My mom asked today what the difference is between a memoir and an autobiography, so I had to look it up. As I sensed, a memoir needs a focus, like battling drug addiction or moving to Alaska. Perfect. My memoir has a focus. (An autobiography, on the other hand, is a literal discussion of someone’s entire life. Although there could be some overlap.)
Almost everything in my life of major (or even day-to-day) significance ties into the theme. I’ve got a winning project here. The thematics of my memoir will enable me to appeal to an agent. It’s bizarre how many memories I have. Today, among other things, I wrote about all my friends in the youth group in high school, and all the tales they told me about getting spanked (the focus of my memoir). Story after story. It’s all up here. [I’m pointing to my massive cranium.]
Thematically, there’s some stuff in the memoir that has no connection to it, but I’m a good writer and can find connections. That will keep the word count high and tie everything together. I’m almost manic about this. Geez.
Well, I didn’t get my room cleaned. But hey, I wrote. At this rate of speed, I should be able to complete my memoir before NaNoWriMo. I’m a bit worried about it, because it’s hard for me to shift gears, so if I’m not finished with my memoir, I won’t be eager to switch to a novel knowing I’ll have to switch back to the memoir at a later point. Too much brain shifting. Meg doesn’t like brain shifting. So if I could get the whole first draft done, I’ll be happy. I’ve got twenty days and nineteen minutes as of right now.
This is really meaningful for me. For years, I’ve wanted to spread the word about how parents shouldn’t spank their kids because (among other reasons) it can mess them up sexually. Now here I am, writing a memoir that I have high hopes I might actually be able to get published. What could be more meaningful than spreading my message? Absolutely nothing!
It’s just mindblowing how much content I have to write about. Pop culture references, anecdotes, it’s just a lot! I think I’ve won the memoir lottery as far as having lived a life that’s so thematic.