By Kara Martinez Bachman
From the time I was a young
girl of ten years old, I’ve enjoyed writing in the first person. I wasn’t
unlike many other young girls who carefully jotted stories, wishes and dreams
into the lock-and-key diaries that really were our first training grounds for
learning to write well. The best lesson from these young writings is they were
unskilled, but nonetheless infused with absolute honesty and sometimes, real
passion.
As professional writers,
though, the essay format should be much more than the stream-of-conscious
navel-gazing of the journal or diary. The form requires creating content that’s
not just about us, but is somehow understandable as a part of the overall human
experience.
Sure, we can all babble on
about ourselves, our thoughts, and the events of our lives. Making readers care
about it, though, is a whole other challenge. Taking on this challenge and
defeating it can make all the difference in creating work editors--and
readers--will really love.
In fiction, the sky’s the
limit for creating the world as we’d like it to be. In the nonfiction essay,
however, we don’t have that luxury. If either your narrative or opinions don’t
ring true completely, there’s no way readers will connect with them.
Be sure before you begin
writing that your subject is something you’re completely free to write about
honestly. Anything else will seem like withholding--at the least--or outright
lying at the worst.
Anyone remember the brouhaha
over James Frey’s memoir, “A Million Little Pieces”? Don’t let that happen to
you. Remember: Creative nonfiction implies creativity with expression, but NOT
creativity with facts.
When writing in first person,
we, ourselves supply the voice and give the narrative direction. What’s more,
we pull the whole thing together and arrive at a purpose by providing our
readers with bits of analysis. It’s a reflective process that begins as a nugget
exposed in the writer’s mind, flows into and through a relevant narrative
situation, and then wraps back around full circle as the writer analyzes--for
the reader’s benefit--all that has transpired.
To be effective, the reader
must TRUST the essayist. This means stripping down, revealing things about
ourselves--the good, the bad, and the ugly--from life experiences to feelings.
For instance, in my essay
collection “Kissing the Crisis,” I write about everything from what happens in
my bed at night with my husband (no, this is not erotica) to my own unpleasant
faults and weaknesses. Overcoming the fear of exposure and disclosure, though,
will help the essayist jump that hurdle and create an essay that rings true. Be
brave.
Focusing on these two
important issues … truthfulness and willingness to self-expose … will go far in
setting your first-person work apart.
Readers can sense when the
world you paint isn’t genuine. What’s worse, they can sense even more so when
their guide, the essayist, is scared to open his or herself up to scrutiny, or
has something to hide.
When the reader doesn’t get a
barebones, one-hundred-percent-honest peek inside, you’ve lost the opportunity
to teach, to inspire, to ask questions, or to commiserate.
When you keep your own truths
under lock and key, your essay becomes far less interesting than that
poorly-written, but completely honest diary of a ten-year-old.
__________________________________________________________________
Kara Martinez Bachman is
author of the humorous essay collection, “Kissing the Crisis: Field Notes on Foul-Mouthed Babies, Disenchanted Women, and Careening into Middle Age.” She
has read her writing for broadcast on NPR and it has appeared
in The Writer, Funny Times, and dozens of other
newspapers, magazines, websites and anthologies. She’s a former staff and
current freelance entertainment journalist for Nola.com and
the New Orleans Times-Picayune and is Managing Editor of three
editions of Parents & Kids magazine. Find out more
at Karamartinezbachman.com.
