Writing a memoir or personal essay is complicated, especially when that writing shines a light on our poor choices. We’ve all made mistakes. But not all of us choose to open ourselves up (and risk potential backlash) by publishing a confessional essay.
Since every human being learns to better themselves by making missteps, writing about those experiences can provide a platform for growth and understanding. It’s an opportunity to share the idea that “when we know better, we do better” (thank you, Maya Angelou!). The key, of course, is “knowing better.”
Recently, a student penned a piece in my class highlighting the insensitive behavior of both herself and her family members. Her piece fit within the growth paradigm of “I used to …, but now I …” In her case, the crux of the piece was “I used to judge people for breaking quarantine rules, but now I’m breaking them myself.”
I helped her restructure her piece, suggested some wording changes and left her with, “what do you want readers to walk away with?” I told her she was brave for sharing her truth, unpopular as it may be, but I didn’t consider the bigger picture. I didn’t tell her that her piece could trigger readers, that she used phrases that could cause people to drop their jaws and shake their heads, that her piece could have negative consequences. In that sense, I failed her — and her readers.
Her classmates chimed in with “What did you learn from the experience?” “Would you do anything differently?” “How did your perspective change?” and “How are you different now, compared to before this experience?”
A few lines of introspection exploring those answers might have saved her a whole lot of heartache — something as simple as “I’m not proud of my behavior. I know that not following rules could put lives at risk. In the moment though, the intense yearning for family togetherness trumped all of that. Like an addict presented with a fresh line of cocaine, I needed a hit.”
As a writing coach, it isn’t my job to judge students’ actions or behavior. It’s to help them craft a compelling narrative, to push writers to examine themselves on the page, question the whys behind their actions and encourage them to explain how they grew and changed from the experience.
Unfortunately, this particular piece doesn’t show growth. It doesn’t show a new perspective or increased gratitude. It doesn’t show real change. And perhaps not surprisingly, this writer got raked over the coals. As her teacher, I got burned, too.
The upshot: This experience is already changing the way I critique essays. It’s pushing me to help authors examine the reasons why they want to publish a particular piece, to ask themselves if their work might in any way enrich or touch the life of another human being. If it doesn’t, perhaps it’s best not to publish.
A few key questions to ask yourself before you hit send:
- What is my motivation for sharing this story?
- What did I learn from this experience? How am I different as a result? And are those differences expressed clearly on the page?
- Am I putting myself in my readers’ shoes (people of all ages, backgrounds and socioeconomic circumstances) and viewing my piece through those lenses?
- Could my words harm or trigger others?
Since really great confessional essays can be hard to come by, I’m sharing a few favorites:
A Boyfriend Too Good to Be True by Deenie Hartzog-Mislock
The Accident No One Talked About by Jessica Ciencin Henriquez
The Day I Left My Son in the Car by Kim Brooks
Mother Rage: Theory and Practice by Anne Lamott
The Love of My Life by Cheryl Strayed