the embattled memoirist (me)

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

And so, with memoir, I begin again. Writing toward an idea. Teasing remembrance. Stuck in the morass of something I can almost see.

One wrong sentence in ten long pages requires a rewriting of those ten pages. One wrong sentence is the false note that proves the premise wrong, casts doubt upon the entire enterprise. If I can't get that sentence right, then I can't get that memory right, then I can't settle on meaning.

When we say we love to write, we are also admitting to being half in love with the wars we spark within ourselves.


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