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The Backward Life

“The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.” —Philip Roth

I have been reading Jenny Lawson's (The Bloggess) book Let's Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) for the second time. I think I am enjoying it more now than when I read it originally. Lawson's book makes me want to put down in writing all the crazy stories from my childhood. Heaven knows there are more than a few. They are definitely not as unique as Lawson's experiences, but it would be great to have them for my children. 

As I have been mulling this idea over, I realize how I remember things is not going to be parallel to how other family members or friends remember things. I guess every memoir is not truly non-fiction. It is non-fiction from a single point of view, which is basically just fiction with a higher than average number of facts thrown in.

I also worry about the legal aspects of my memoir. Will people want to sue me for defamation of character? So, I looked it up and found this article from Writer's Digest. Turns out, my opinions are protected expression. The situation becomes a sticky wicket when I claim it to be fact and don't have any proof. Basically, I can't say 'my great-uncle George (I don't have an uncle George, this is just an example) once stole a whole set of fine china from Macy's Department Store so he could trade it for crack cocaine' unless I have proof (like a police report, signed confession, photographs etc). Otherwise, I open myself up to a lawsuit by my uncle George, unless he's dead- in which case his heirs can not sue me, because it's not allowed. 

Moral of the story: wait until people die to defame them in your memoir.

I have started a list of all the significant memories from my childhood I could possibly make into entertaining reading. I will get back to you when I have decided how to proceed. I might be calling up some family and friends to check my facts a bit, or get their take on things. Don't think this means you will get any kind of credit as co-author if my little collection becomes famous. Perhaps I will mention your name in the acknowledgments page if you're nice and send me emergency care packages while I am holed up writing all this stuff down.  

You can purchase Jenny Lawson's book here (it just came out in paperback).


I hate waiting. I don't mean waiting for the bus to come or waiting in line at the grocery store (after all, at least I have some smutty reading material or can gawk at the weird people who take public transportation). No, I mean waiting to get feedback for your work. It is hard enough to put yourself out there and allow others to critique your writing, but it is equally as hard, if not worse, waiting for their response.

I recently submitted some of my fiction for a writing contest. I think I have a pretty good shot — as good as any other 30-something, aspiring novelist. I mean, really, how many could there be? Anyway, the contest winners are going to be announced on Friday and I am having a hard time concentrating on anything else. Now would be a good time for me to win something. I'm depressed about not finding a new job, work has become repetitive and I miss my family. At this point in time, I would be happy to win just about anything. I would even settle for a World's Best Golfer award (in the form of a coffee mug) and I don't golf. Do you have one, anyone?