March 13: A Memoir-able Encounter

Yesterday, I wrote about working on my memoir in my first post.  There was a reason for that.

I have a writer friend I see every few months.  Ever since he heard my Christmas essay on the local NPR station last year, he's been encouraging me to write a memoir.  He's recommended memoirs to me to read.  Almost every time I speak to him on the phone, he asks me how my memoir writing is going.  I love this man a great deal.  He's funny and kind.  When he calls me, he always starts our conversations the same way, "This is dad."

Well, yesterday when I saw him, I did a foolish thing.

He said to me, "I'm hoping to live long enough to have a copy of your memoir in my hands."

"Well," I said, "the next time I see you, I will give you the first four confessions to read."  That means, in about three months, I have to have the first four chapters of my memoir completed.  After I made him that promise, I immediately thought to myself, What in the hell were you thinking?

But, there's no getting around it.  I have to work, and work hard.   In three months, I will have those four confessions done.  Perhaps it's not such a bad thing, having a deadline.  It gives me a goal, and I work better with goals in mind.

Saint Marty has a lot of writing to do.  Stay tuned.

February 13: Ash Wednesday, Stradlater's Composition, Lenten Worry

Anyway, that's what I wrote Stradlater's composition about.  Old Allie's baseball mitt.  I happened to have it with me, in my suitcase, so I got it out and copied down the poems that were written on it.  All I had to do was change Allie's name so that nobody would know it was my brother and not Stradlater's.  I wasn't too crazy about doing it, but I couldn't think of anything else descriptive.  Besides, I sort of liked writing about it.  It took me about an hour, because I had to use Stradlater's lousy typewriter, and it kept jamming on me.  The reason I didn't use my own was because I'd lent it to a guy down the hall.

Holden is a writer.  Holden's brother is a writer.  Even when he flunks out of Pencey, Prep, Holden still passes his English class.  Out of all the things he does in The Catcher in the Rye, writing this essay is one of the few things that actually brings him pleasure.  Holden loves writing about his brother, Allie.

I have been struggling for a couple weeks trying to decide what I'm going to do for Lent this year.  For those disciples who have been following me for a while, you already know that two years ago, I made the commitment to write a poem a day, Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday.  That was crazy, but I did it.  Last year, I said I was going to write a chapter of memoir every week and post it.  That Lenten commitment didn't go so well.  I got some writing done, but it was a hit and miss kind of affair.  I wasn't very disciplined.  Sort of like giving up chocolate for Lent and then stashing Milky Ways in your sock drawer for midnight snacks.

Every time I've thought and prayed about Lent this year, I kept coming back to that memoir thing.  I don't know if it's a God thing or a guilt thing.  However, I'm going to try again this Lent to write my memoir.  I'm not going to commit to any page count or length per week.  Last time, I said I was going to write a chapter a week, and I started panicking on Sundays when I had exactly two sentences written.  Nope, this time, I will simply write and post whatever I come up with on Sunday, whether it's a word or sentence or paragraph or book.

I'm worried that I'm not going to able to complete this task again.  However, I have to keep Holden and his composition about Allie's mitt in mind.  I have to like what I'm writing.  It has to be fun.  I had fun writing a poem a day two years ago.  It gave me stress sometimes, but I still loved the challenge.  I have to love this challenge, too.

So, Saint Marty is making it official.  This Lent, he will start writing his memoir.  Stayed tuned on Sundays for the fruits of his labors, even they are just raisins.

Challenge accepted