writing from memory
There’s a reason.
Writers walk atop a paper-thin edge. They must get to the truth of a tale–but that does not always mean they will present the events of the story accurately.
Or maybe they will.
We draw on our own memories for our sensory details, which might be extremely helpful.
Some of you might have heard about my *unexpected surgery. Blahblahblah. The point is:
I mentioned to Big Bopper that while I was waiting for the ambulance I had been rolling around in pain. He said, “No you weren’t. You were lying perfectly still.”
Geez. I was rolling around in pain in my head.
Now, as a writer, what would I do with a scene like that?
A wave of nausea surged through my chest. Someone lodged a giant baseball bat under my ribs and pushed–shoved my insides out of the way to make room. Cold sweat beaded up on my forehead and back. I moaned, crumpled to the floor, my hands holding my abdomen. I rolled back and forth like a whipped dog. “Make it stop,” I said.
A wave of nausea surges through my chest. A terrible weight under my ribs. Clammy, I lie on the couch. Is it what I think it is?
The pain spreads–burns–hard to bear…
“I’d feel better if I could lie still,” I say.
My husband frowns down at me. “What do you mean? You’re not moving. At all.”
No freakouts. It was not what I thought it was.
THE POINT IS.
I don’t think either piece of writing is particularly superior or inferior. I think it has to do with who your audience is, and what you’re trying to accomplish.
Have any opinions on which audience these two examples might be suited for? Because I’m tired and I need you to finish this blogpost for me.
After all, I just had some *unexpected surgery.
*disclaimer: oh, please. i am fine. pay attention to the point i’m trying to get across, will you?