There’s a very famous piece of advice from Anne Lamott that occasionally makes the rounds on social media. It’s from her well-known bestseller, Bird by Bird. She says: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
This advice, especially when shared out of context, makes me cringe. First, it doesn’t allow that one’s own perspective could be devastatingly wrong; in other people’s eyes, it may be that you didn’t behave well. (One of the first rules of personal writing: take some shots at yourself.) Nor is it likely to lead to greater compassion or understanding. But perhaps most important, it doesn’t address the consequences of what happens when you write without any regard to others in your life, whether you love and respect them or not.
In this month’s Glimmer Train bulletin, I greatly enjoyed Matthew Lansburgh’s essay, “Writing About Family: Advice, Second Thoughts, Xanax, and a Note to My Mom.” He’s a fiction writer who draws from his own life, and feels that acutely in his personal relationships. He wants to share his work with his mom, but hesitates:
Writers are often told to be true to themselves and to embrace their subject matter with honesty. We’re urged to shine a light on the darkest regions of our souls. Perhaps part of the reason I’ve always wanted to be a writer is that, growing up, my parents taught me to be honest and assert my individuality; they themselves always spoke their minds and never minced words. When I began writing this essay I hoped that thinking through these issues would help me arrive at a clearer answer of what my responsibility is to my mother now. Should I share my book with her? If she reads it and is upset, how should I respond? Should I defend myself or apologize? I realize, however, there are no simple answers to these questions.
Also this month from Glimmer Train:
- A Constitution for a Young Artist by Maxime Kawawa-Beaudan
- Joy of Revision by Amina Gautier
- Written on the Bricks: Composing While You Move by Colin Fleming
Jane Friedman has spent nearly 25 years working in the book publishing industry, with a focus on author education and trend reporting. She is the editor of The Hot Sheet, the essential publishing industry newsletter for authors, and was named Publishing Commentator of the Year by Digital Book World in 2023. Her latest book is The Business of Being a Writer (University of Chicago Press), which received a starred review from Library Journal. In addition to serving on grant panels for the National Endowment for the Arts and the Creative Work Fund, she works with organizations such as The Authors Guild to bring transparency to the business of publishing.
I appreciate that there are no simple answers to this question, but want to emphasize how different some of our childhoods may have been.
There are certain behaviors and actions that, regardless of the parents giving us life, are unacceptable and almost everyone in our culture would judge one’s parents accordingly.
I think your advice is good in either situation, though: look at one’s own self with a sober eye. Even if your parent’s actions could never be justified, it will gather readers into your corner even more tightly.
The really big problem – besides destroying relationships – is that how we write about our parents or siblings or friends tends to focus on the extremes. On one hand, we have “Mommie Dearest” stories; on the other hand are the stories where people apparently are right up there with Mother Theresa. And let’s face it – how we view our relationships also depends on what stage of our lives we’re in. As we grow older, we experience more, and it opens up the door to understanding that maybe, just maybe, nobody was “wrong” – that it was all part of people who weren’t perfect and were still learning how to “do” those relationships. I’ve never been a 60-something with a grown child – how the heck do I deal with that dynamic? I’m going to make mistakes and so is he.
Wise words – thank you so much for commenting and sharing.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Jane, as well as Matthew Lansburgh’s essay. I’ve struggled with this question endlessly as I work on my memoir. I’m blessed that my parents were and are good people and good parents. But that makes it all the harder to show how their flaws influenced me and my shortcomings as a mother. I plan to show them snippets of “their” part in the story, and ask for their blessings. It’s possible that my story will not be public until after they’ve passed, and their blessing will be my protection against the possible ire of my siblings.
Appreciate you sharing a glimpse into your situation, Karen – stories like this help. Thank you.
Thanks so much for this important post, and the link to Matthew Lansburgh’s essay. Both my historical novel, Even in Darkness, and my upcoming contemporary novel, Hard Cider, feature characters and events based in my own family experience. I’ve struggled in both books with how to honor the privacy and legacy of family members while staying true to the themes and story arcs that compel me as a writer. Geoff Dyer at The Guardian did a great piece on ‘Based on a true story’: the fine line between fact and fiction, and my own post on the family issue When to Keep Secrets and When to Tell Truths is at my website below. Thanks again Jane!
Anne Lamott also says, “Write as though your parents are dead.” Easier said than done. I published an essay last year about how my brother, sister and I were raised with labels: the cold one, the sensitive one, etc. My family didn’t like it all that much. I’m thinking about writing under a pen name when I write about my family of origin stuff. And I have A LOT of material to mine…