Fourth Monday: June Menu

Welcome to June’s Fourth Monday Specials!

For a savory taste of memoir and journal writing expertise visit Lynnette Benton’s article Reflecting on Reflective Writing. “These forms invite us to on a journey of inner exploration. Instead of just a glimpse into the writers’ minds, we get to meander there as they figure out, and sometimes even discover, how they really feel about an issue by examining it, engaging with it, on paper.”

As a second course, Arvid Berge meditates on a brief moment in Guatemala with his essay The Other in the Mirror.  “There are times in my life when I have moments of pure joy and contentment. My heart swells and I feel connected to every living soul. As connected to my fellow man as a child embraced in the arms of a loving parent. These moments come with the realization that in all humanity there is no “other”…. no one who is not fundamentally just like me.”

Dessert is a cool blast of flash fiction by Rob Brunet titled The Ride. “Parties packed with city kids tweaking their summers away, hammering to deep house, howling at the midnight moon. Money to be made. But it was against the rules.”

Check out these writers along with past contributors to V’s Place and remember to leave your thoughts in the comment sections. We all love hearing from you!

If you are a writer, artist or musician and would like to strut your stuff or know of an artist you’d like to see featured, please drop a line to e.victoriaflynn@gmail.com.

Write Hard, Die Free

 

 

Reflecting on Reflective Writing

by Lynette Benton

In her post, No Man’s Land, Victoria raised intriguing questions about time periods in diaries and memoirs. She wrote that it was her understanding that diaries address current events, while memoirs record the past. Seems straightforward enough.

Diaries = present

Memoirs = past

But here’s a complication: She also mentioned seeing some memoirs that cover events as they unfold. (And I’m not even going into the idea held by some physicists and many mystics that time doesn’t really exist anyway and that everything’s actually happening in the infinite, illusive Now.)

Among the excellent memoirs written about events currently taking place in the writer’s life are those by Eva Hoffman (efforts to assimilate into American culture); Ann Morrow Lindbergh (desire to simplify her life); and Kate Millet (bouts with her own certifiable madness).

However, even journals written about the present include references to the past, or how else would we have meaningful contexts? The present always arises out of the past. Even if we’re suffering from amnesia, we have a past—and it’s likely that someone, somewhere knows that past.

So, since both journals and memoirs can be written about the present, it could be possible, as EVF stated in reply to the comment I left, “to get these forms all muddled.”

That’s because diaries and memoirs, along with personal essays, are all reflective writing genres, and share a number of trademark elements.

Self-disclosure is a major ingredient in these genres.

Without meaningful self-disclosure, the memoir will lack authenticity and honesty,” says Linda Gartz, a family historian, who is also working on a memoir.

Further similarities among diaries, memoirs, and personal essays:

  • They all lend themselves to journeys of exploration.
  • Most cultivate an intimate, conversational tone. (Think: Eat, Pray, Love.)
  • The writer is firmly present as the “I” in the writing.

Another trait these genres have in common is a certain inconclusiveness. Gartz says her memoir “will end not with hard facts, but rather with reflection . . . .”

These forms invite us to on a journey of inner exploration. Instead of just a glimpse into the writers’ minds, we get to meander there as they figure out, and sometimes even discover, how they really feel about an issue by examining it, engaging with it, on paper. One idea leads to others.

Joan Didion’s graceful essay, “In Bed,” begins with a description of her suffering from migraines and ends, almost as if the idea suddenly struck her midway through her writing, with the insight that the migraines might serve a purpose for her.

One significant difference among these forms is that in general, journals are addressed to the self, whereas essays and memoirs are addressed to an audience.

Journals = private
Personal essays and memoirs = public

But every rule’s got an exception, right? Michael Kinsley, editor of The Slate Diaries, invited a variety of people to write diary entries for that excellent anthology. Did the fact that the guest writers knew their journals would be made public influence what they wrote?

In each of these forms, the writer shepherds readers through their personal feelings and perspective to universal experience.

***

Lynette Benton teaches creative writing all over the place—to teens and adults. She is also an editor. Her work has appeared in numerous newspapers and online venues, such as Skirt.com and More Magazine online. She uses her diary as a feeder for her memoir-in-progress, My Mother’s Money. You can reach her at Relief11@verizion.net.

 

The Other in the Mirror

by Arvid Berge

A shirtless man stands in the light of a Guatemalan morning. He has a straight-razor in his right hand and shaving soap on his chin. He peers into a cracked mirror hanging from a nail in the doorjamb of his house. I watch him as I walk slowly past the gray unpainted structure that sits on an embankment, its foundation of rough stones rising up to meet the door sill six feet above the rocky hillside below the house. If there ever was an elevated porch to compliment the doorway, it is gone now. The man and the mirror occupy a doorway that exits out into Guatemala’s eternal spring air.

There are times in my life when I have moments of pure joy and contentment. My heart swells and I feel connected to every living soul. As connected to my fellow man as a child embraced in the arms of a loving parent. These moments come with the realization that in all humanity there is no “other”…. no one who is not fundamentally just like me.

I watch the man squinting into his cracked mirror, his nut brown Mayan features reflected in the equatorial sun. I recall my own morning ritual; shaving my face in an air-conditioned motel room, a Norelco electric shaver with AC/DC converter attachment buzzes against my chin, my pale features in the smoked mirror with its row of incandescent bulbs lighting my sleepy image.

I recall, also, my thoughts. First, there is the unavoidable recognition of my own mortality. Who isn’t confronted with such thoughts when taking stock of his or her image after a night’s sleep?

Then, of course, the thoughts, sometimes exciting…more often mundane, about the day ahead; the “must do’s, might do’s, should do’s and so on. Since I’m vacationing and a first time visitor to this little village in Guatemala’s northern province of jungles, jaguars, and Mayan ruins, my mental prospects for the day tend toward excitement. I tell my image in the smoked glass, “nothing mundane about this place”.

I’m thinking that same thought as I stumble along the rock strewn street and listen to the roosters crowing and dogs barking. I jump over a little stream of sewage flowing along the edge of the road to avoid being run over by a taxi coming from the one-lane airport that serves two flights a day from Guatemala City. The sound of the taxi diverts the attention of the man in the doorway away from his own image in the mirror and he turns his head toward where I stand. It is in that moment when I feel the joy.

This man in the doorway and I on the street, we could not be more different. Yet, we are the same. His world and my world are, as the saying goes, “worlds apart”. Yet, we inhabit the same world. He shaves his chin and I shave mine. His skin is my skin. My thoughts, no doubt, mirror his thoughts. I cannot see him as something other than myself. Everything I see in my mirror is also reflected in his. I can love him or despise him, envy him or pity him, dismiss him or embrace him, but I cannot see him as an “other”.

He smiles. And, I smile back.

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