Structured Thought

Structure. Ah, glorious structure. You can't raise a house without first putting the eaves in place. You can't bake a cake without the pan. So, as writers, how do we expect to construct books without ever really knowing where they are headed? Andre Breton would kick me for saying that.

I do not want my memoir to be boring. I do not want it to be self-absorbed. I think, more and more, that the book really is more about my father (Al) than about me, my painful daddy issues or about us as a duo. I do think the father/daughter relationship is central to the book, but not the main story. The main story is that a life was upended, interrupted, snipped at the umbilical cord before it ever had a chance to rewire itself and be fixed. Those of you who know me well know what I mean when I say this in terms of my father.

So, if the book is more about him, what is the structure of the book?

Let's play a game. You pick between #1, #2 and #3.

#1. The overarching structure has to do with Al's writing. His poetry pulls together each chapter or his notes/diary entries create an arc over the entire book. In this way, the novel may not be chronological, but the poetry and Al's work over the years will hold it together. This doesn't mean half the book will be taken up by his work, but that brief snippets will serve as stepping off points.

#2. Our father-daughter relationship serves as the structure for the book. The story is told chronologically, from my earliest, insubstantial memories of visiting him as a 5-year-old girl and continues on until I receive the news that he has died and I have to clean up after him.

#3. The Wild Card. I tell a finite story from August 2003 to about October 2003, the cleaning up of the apartment. Through the cleaning up and the following of me through a consistent present action (Meredith at the morgue, Meredith at the police station, Meredith at the apartment killing off flies), I make discoveries about my father, I reflect on the past (here's where the childhood stories pop up) and I pay tribute to the life he could have lived.

Pick one, or two, and let me know what you think.

I Guess Starbucks Isn't So Bad

Just as I hit the "SEND" button on my latest post, a dear friend sent me the following: Free Coffee At Starbucks on March 15!

I bet Mary Kate and Ashley ask for seconds!

Starbucks, One Bad Metaphor and Some Annoying Teens

I spent four hours at a Starbucks yesterday working on the memoir. It felt exhilarating to pick back up where I'd left off. If I learned anything over the past year at New School, it's that I need to import more story arc and linger more with the characters in the memoir. I'm starting to do that and I'm starting to see things take shape.

I'm still stuck on structure, but that will come later. For now, I'm getting the bones out and later, when I revise the manuscript, I'll set them in place and give them a full body from which to breathe. I'm cringing at that metaphor. You can too. It's god awful! Oh the horror!

The National Book Critics Circle Awards are being held tonight at New School. I'll be attending. I'm hopeful that Cormac McCarthy will show up and not send a minion in his place. I'm also psyched to see Daniel Mendelsen and Kiran Desai.

Oh, and by the way, beware of Starbucks come 3 o'clock. It's when all the annoying, loud teenagers descend upon it like leeches. I had to turn the volume up on my iPod and send scathing looks their way. Eventually, they finished eating their Subway sandwiches and left.

Leaving Room

Today marks the (sort of) two-month countdown to my thesis deadline. Once complete, I will receive my MFA in fiction from The New School.

For the most part, I thought I could handle this very important term, but I have been struggling increasingly with reader feedback. It started in workshop last semester when I got a less than pleasing response about a piece that was dear to my heart.

Now, here I am in the thesis term, thinking I would complete a memoir per the requirement, but I've left that project by the side of the road in favor of a sprawling novel.

Why did I do this? I'm asking myself daily. It was mostly based on one reader's opinion. She felt the memoir lacked "story" and said, "I'm not sure who is going to care about this story other than you." She didn't mean to hurt me. It was a tough love talk and I had told her not to hold my hand. I spent the next two months after that talk crafting something entirely new--all but abandoning my previous memoir project for the more fictionalized account of something that happened to me.

How do you deal with feedback as a writer? What voices do you listen to?

Francine Prose said once that there are many people in the room with you when you write. Agents, publishers, friends, lovers...

And, it's hard to block them out or tell them to shut up.

When you finally do tell them all to leave the room, that's when the good writing happens.

But, it's when you tell yourself to leave the room when the magic occurs.