Memories are fuel

And putting them in story

I do not weep at the world I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.

Zora Neale Hurston

Greetings from Boyds Mills!!! I am here on retreat after a busy week of ALA, The Jane Addams Awards, and moving my mom. It feels good to be here. A place where I find magic. A place where I feel like a writer.

Also: we got the condo! So packing will begin the second I get home. Get ready for some new amazing views.

This week, while packing my mom, I found so many memories. Love letters. From college. Pictures from every phase of life. Art that hung on our walls. Clothes I can’t believe I ever wore. My dad’s book. My dad’s papers. My mother even saved some White Out!

I also got to see old friends, who knew me before I wanted to write, when I was busy making mistakes and finding new ways to get in trouble. Friends who joined me on stage. Friends I don’t need to explain things to.

We are all many things.

We are all made of memories. And relationships. And yearning. Some fulfilled. Some not. Sometimes, it’s painful to think about the past. But when I am stuck, that is where I always go. To the choices. The places where I paused and wondered: what do I actually want?

That stuff can fuel our stories.

I don’t mean that we should always transcribe what happened, word for word. Putting yourself on the page isn’t that easy. My memories do their best work when I tap into the corresponding emotions—when I ask myself why these moments stay with me.

As I read those letters, I remembered what it felt like—in my skin—to be loved. And to give love—for the very first time. I could feel the fear of it all. And the insecurities, too. When we are young, we trust. Then we learn not to always trust. Then we learn when we have to reclaim it.

As I reminisced with friends, I stacked those memories like squares on a game board. I wanted to see if I could create a linear map for my life. (I couldn’t.) But as I tried, I found a lot. I looked at where I was and where I was still headed and found themes. And joy. And heartache. And regrets. And now, as I open my manuscript, I find places to put those emotions and mistakes. I discover new insights into why these characters mean so much to me. And why they feel so real.

Are you ready to reach?

This week, being home, I revisited many places I used to go. Today, think of yourself at the age of your protagonist. Where was your favorite place to go? Not a hiding place. (We’ve done that before.) A place that gave you confidence. Where you felt like your best self. A place you couldn’t wait to visit again.

Describe that place.

Describe why you loved it. And how you got there. Did you go often? Or not?

Remember: what are the most important events that happened in that place? How do those events or emotions or memories fuel what you are writing now?

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

(who is actually just a wee bit too busy, but I’ll get there!)