A few years ago, I wrote a blog for aspiring journalists. I said that the prospects for earning a living as a journalist are not nearly as good as prior to Internet news sites.
But the idea of writing a book is booming thanks to Amazon. I have about 600 books on my Kindle, all of which I’ve purchased from Amazon. I get three e-mails per day from Amazon, BookBub and ManyBooks, all of which offer free or reduced price books. Most of the ones I buy are around $1.99 and until recently, when I became overwhelmed with books I have yet to read, I was buying around 10 per week.
As a writer, I enjoy decent writing that will take me to a place I might be interested in. Places like the future and worlds of fantasy are among my prime reads. Many of the books I read are in the “young adult” category, and they contain many sequels. Amanda Lee wrote a fabulous five-book series about a college girl involved with the supernatural. She did six follow-up books about life after graduation and she’s done at least a dozen books involving a midwest witch coven with many comedic aspects, which led to at least a dozen books about supernatural hunters under the guise of a traveling carnival.
And that’s just the beginning. There’s also what I call the “duds.” They’re books that I don’t care to finish and others which I will finish but won’t re-read.
Anyhow, I am a published author, but that is from journalism and trade magazine articles. I estimate that I have well over a thousand bylines, very few of which were in wide circulation magazines.
But I keep plugging away, writing whatever I damn well please in this blog and perhaps finally pulling together enough articles to do a book. Think about a travelogue with a twist. I’ve been all over the country and I keep running into ghosts. Sometimes they are personal and others are historical. For example, I encounter the ghosts of Custer and Sitting Bull at the Little Big Horn. They’re still arguing about how white people took over Indian lands.
But the book, which had a strong start, has slowed down due to many distractions. One would think the the Covid Stay-at-Home confinement would give me every opportunity to write. It hasn’t. I was recently asked by a high school classmate for advice on writing a memoir. So here’s some advice, but remember that it’s free.
Have you viewed “A Christmas Story?” It’s a tale about a kid named Ralph who lived in the Depression. More than anything, he wants a genuine Red Ryder BB gun. And it seems his entire world is against him saying “You’ll shoot your eyes out kid.” Jean Shepherd wrote the script and nattarate’s it.
Shep’s far more than a one-shot deal. He hosted a PBS series called “Jean Shepherd’s America.” But long before that, he was a secret for my high school persona. Every night, he would host a radio show for an hour that was frequently ad-libbed. Out of it came many fabulous stories which wend into half a dozen books.
And these are the stories that create great memoirs. Most of the time, it was what Shep experienced as he viewed his world. A New York resident and erstwhile Broadway actor, he loved the city, but teased the suburbs, especially New Jersey, as places of “avarage,” and little more. He would hold lawn decorations in special scorn, calling it “slob art” and on one hot, humid night, he urged his radio listeners to just leave their cars and go home , creating one of the worst traffic jams in the history of New York City.
Most of his stories had much in common. His youth and early adulthood were a main source. He would talk about his childhood and some of the crazy things he experienced. He also loved to talk about his adventures in the signal corps during the Second World War. Another thing was working in a steel mill.
Shep put a sophisticated light on a working class schmuck.You should read one of his books. I suggest "In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash."
So here, dear writer to be, are some tips.
- WRITE every day you can. Set aside the same time every day to do nothing but write. The more you do it, the sooner and easier the words will begin to flow. If you are dealing with a blank page, write obscenities until something more comprehensive begins to emerge.
2. PICK A SUBJECT PEOPLE CAN RELATE TO. Everyone has a story to say about 9/11. What’s your’s? Jimmy Breslin, the great columnist for many New York newspapers, wrote about the death of JFK by writing the story of the man who dug the grave.
But even personal news can be used. Write about the personal and perhaps funny issues from your divorce. For example, at the school’s annual heritage day. I was asked to do a speech about a Vietnam War hero who attended my high school. I walked off the stage to a standing ovation as the ex called to harass me about money. Can you imagine if she did it in the middle of the speech?
3. WRITE ABOUT PLACES YOU’VE BEEN TO.
I’ve visited Yellowstone several times. The thing that impressed me the most was A small area of boulders that had been covered with a white sulphuric coating from centuries of seismic activity. My memories of my two visits to Old Faithful involved a few things other than the impressive sight. On my first visit there, I brought my dog, Pup. If there is one thing you must know about Corgis, it is that they give love without judging and shed hair without ceasing,. We arrived at the viewing area for the geyser and had about a 40-minute wait. Shortly after our arrival, two teenage girls adoringly asked if they could pet him? Of course I said okay. Pup loves attention and the girls lavished it upon him, telling him how wonderful he was. I couldn’t help wish that girls had treated me like that when I was a teen. As the worship continued, so did the amount of hair that came off of pup’s heavy coated back. There was a light breeze and a trail of white hair continued to flow for about 50 yards. I grabbed Pups leash and started photographing the eruption. As soon as it was over, the teens came right back to Pup to kiss him goodbye.
The second time it was sort of hot and I decided to leave Pup at my RV park so he could enjoy the air conditioning. Its was fairly early in the season and I noticed that at least a third of the people there were Japanese tourists. I had worked for a couple of Japanese companies and observed how excited they were. As with Japanese tourists everywhere, they had expensive SLR cameras at the ready. And while they waited, they took pictures of themselves with the geyser in the background. I told a couple of the photographers there was something missing in their photos — the photographer. — and they were happy to let me photograph them. At one point in their history, American luxury cars were a status symbol and many of them rented them instead of choosing cars made in Japan. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for a family who had driven a Caddy SUV into a ditch as I drove out of the area. Later in the day, I got an e-mail and a couple of photos from my friend, Frank, who had gone to a local festival. I stopped by a Yellowstone sign and got some guy to take my picture there. I sent the photo right back to Frank with the caption “This is where I am today.”
Even he admitted I had one-upped him.
If you look at the last few paragraphs, you will see the elements of a memoir, I could have added many of the other Yellowstone sights like the canyon, lakes, bison and many other things and would easily have a chapter in my memoir. It took many observations and asides about a subject people are familiar. For those who had been to the park, it brought back memories. For those who hadn’t, they read something they would never read in a tourist pamphlet.
4. TALK TO PEOPLE. Somewhere in Mid-Virginia, there’s a small town consisting of mostly motels and restaurants right off I-95. I stayed at a Day’s Inn and asked the kid at the desk for a place for dinner. He recommended the place across the street. I looked at the menu and saw it was very boring and overpriced.
I got into the truck and headed west and I found a place that was a few miles down the road. It was fabulous. The restaurant’s main business was catering, but it opened on weekends to a fabulous buffet. Fried chicken, ham, beef, pulled pork meat loaf and dozens of side dishes filled the line.
The place was packed but while families waited for tables, I was told I could take a seat at the counter. I grabbed a full plate and a sweet tea and sat down next to an elderly Black man. Turns out he was a retired Army Reservist who had served in the same outfit I was in many years later. He was now a preacher at an small church. I had been a licensed minister from the days I taught at a Pentecostal Church’s school,. So we spoke a bit about God’s blessings. He got out his checkbook to get ready to pay and I excused myself to get seconds. Before I did, however, I went to the cashier and paid for his meal. Then I got my seconds — the best meatloaf I had ever tasted. It tasted even better when the old man found out that I had paid for his meal. As I returned to my spot at the counter, he thanked me and I told him I appreciated his service to God and country and I wanted to be a little like Jesus just for that day. (Christians believe Chrust's gory death was meant to atone for our sins. He is often referred to as the "lamb of God" in keeping with Jewish traditions of sacrificing lambs through burning them at the alter.)
Okay, I just let you have a part of yet another memoir. I could have added how I couldn’t get a reservation further north and how I arrived in town exhausted from the long drive from Georgia. The drive itself could be half the story. But it would be nothing if I hadn’t spoken to people.
I’m not going very into another story. This was when I was a reporter for a local daily newspaper. I went into a supermarket on St. Patrick’s Day and discovered a high school girl cashiering with her hair died a bright green and orange. This was around 1972 and I learned that the girl used kool aid to get her hair that way. I spoke to her and asked her if I could interview her for a story. I got to a phone and called the news desk and told them about the girlI realized that we only printed black-and-white photos, but this girl’s hair looked somewhat like the bride of Frankenstein and so our photographer dropped by and got a decent photo. She made the front page the next day and I dropped by and gave her some extra copies. A year later, she called me and let me know the local police had arrested several boys for running a high school drug ring. A much more provocative story that also made the front page.
Several years later, I was asked to do a seminar to some journalism students at the local Christian high school. I talked to several of the students asking them about themselves. After I finished with each I shouted out a lead paragraph about them. After doing this about five times, they were amazed at how I could do that. Which leads me to my final topic.
5. PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE.
The first time I ever wrote a story for my local newspaper, was around 1968. I covered the town council for the smallest municipality in the state. I didn’t understand the slightest bit about municipal government, but the mayor issued a statement about how drugs were getting to be a problem. I got a copy of his statement and returned to the office here I spent almost an hour agonizing over the story, saying to myself over and over “how would the newspaper publish this?” I managed to get out seven paragraphs which were narrowed down to three. It was a a start and I got more and more assignments. Before long, I was doing three fairly long stories every night. With every story I wrote, it became easier to do.
And so, my aspiring memoir writer, I hope this has helped.
