Writing a Memoir for Class April 12, 2009

In a publishing class at my soon-to-be-not-a-college college, I was assigned to write a memoir. Its the assignment that frustrates me. This is probably because I have difficulty seeing past the normality of my life and like everything, feel a profound sense of disappointment. Actually, that isn’t true. Friday, the cafeteria had green chile chicken tacos and normal breakfast food (eggs, bacon). You know what I did? I put that shit together. It was delicious.

So instead of posting the actual memoir, and in keeping with the themes of the blog, here’s how I went about not doing it.

(for the process and some more stuff on badass work, read after the jump)

I asked Google the question “what am I doing with my life.” All I got were quippy blogs. Huh.

I thought about the milestones in my life and imagined how much better they would be in space. I borrowed The Mysterians from this guy. Simply put, it’s an old Japanese sci-fi movie about an alien race that hopes to revitalize its population by reproducing with Japanese women. Human kind goes to war to prevent this. There is a metaphorical cold war that goes on as the races develop their science to blow each other up. There is also a giant drill monster. You should check it out.

I also thought about the idea of perspective and memoir. Over spring break, while eating home-made surf and turf with some friends, we happened upon the incredible reality show From Gs to Gents. The exasperated Fonzworth Bentley, P. Diddy’s butler, attempts to teach a diverse group of gangstas the ways of business and haute couture. In it, was a man known on the show as Fahim, a dreadlocked gangsta with a plan:

Judging from his behavior on his show (relegating his work to somebody else so he can thanklessly wipe the pristine floor) his prospects (he wanted Fonzworth’s position), his fallback plan of looking for food and a place to sleep, this man would probably write an incredible memoir. His life while tough, still manages to shape itself around him. The world is Fahim. Fahim, the world. An image from the show still lingers in my mind: Fahim, alone by the pool. His competitors sit inside pouring syrup on waffles. He pulls a forty ounce bottle of hard alcohol out of the sleeve and watches the day break. Unfortunately for the show, Fahim got booted, and my investment in it left with him.

So there’s the process. Speaking of badass work, which I promised to talk about, check out Drown by Junot Diaz and The Mercy Papers by Robin Romm. Incidentally, Drown was required for my publishing class, which is being taught by Robin Romm, which is the class I have to write a memoir for. Meta? I think so.

Drown is a collection of short stories from the author of The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which is on my immense books-to-read list. The stories are raw, desperate, and achingly personal. His characters tragically overwhelmed by their race, sexuality, physical ailments, bad relationships, and America.

Also, get your hands on The Mercy Papers. I am not just plugging it for brownie points. I can’t use them anyway since my school is closing. But if you are tired of step-by-step getting-over-grief lit, then it should interest you. It’s all-grief-all-the-time and Romm refuses to simply skim along its surface. I won’t really go deeper into it, because people smarter than me already have.