QUESTIONS & ANSWERS

Installment #2 | Friday, June 25, 2021

Hi Substack friends. I hope you enjoy this question and answer series, which I hope to post weekly, on Fridays. It means the world to me to have you here, so thank you again for joining me, and thank you for providing these great questions.

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Thank you Catherine M. for this thoughtful question:

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Hi Allison. I wonder if you can advise. I toss around writing a memoir, but I get very stuck on writing truthfully about painful things. (My family is Irish by descent, and our motto is "if we don't speak of it, it doesn't exist," which is as effective as you might imagine.) How did you get past all the obstacles to speaking truthfully, when doing so feels like Ingratitude/Betrayal/Other Bad Things? How did you know when you were ready/able to speak truthfully and how did your understanding of what you wanted to accomplish through your memoirs change over the course of writing them? Thank you-- looking forward to the new one!

Dear Catherine,

This question is one that I think plagues many writers and artists — “is it okay to tell my version of the truth even if it has the potential to hurt someone, cause a rift with someone, or make them feel betrayed?”

I’ve wrestled with this question a lot. I’ll give you an example: Years ago, I included a song (I don’t even know which one was the offender) on an album that had to do with something that had happened in my childhood. Not exactly a rarity in my catalog or in many artists’ bodies of work, but a relative felt compelled to tell me that she thought I’d “written enough songs about family.” I told her to write her own record if she didn’t like mine.

Now, I suspect that said relative wasn’t excited about the subject matter of whatever song had concerned her so because she decided it had something to do with her, or that it somehow reflected badly on her and her connection to or lack thereof to the folks or the situation — or both — that I’d decided to air out.

So that brings me to this: The people who usually have problems with others’ art are people that the art makes uncomfortable. Either they’re uncomfortable with the feelings it brings to the surface for them, and I guess in some cases when they’re downright implicated — well, no one likes to be called out.

I think what you have to decide is, is it worth it? Are you willing to possibly ostracize a person or create a situation or even just a bad vibe for the sake of 1) your truth and voice and 2) your craft? Because here’s the thing — people can tell when you aren’t giving it up. That doesn’t mean you have to tell every dirty detail but it does mean you must find the emotional truth of your story and speak it. Otherwise, what’s the point of saying anything? What sets us apart as artists is how well we bring voice to the common ground we share with others within our unique experience.

I didn’t think, when I wrote Blood, that I would meet so many people and get letters from so many others who told me, “I related to your book so much,” when it was released. But I’m still getting them. I suspect I always will. And that makes me feel like I did my job, because my real job is to share my experience so others know they aren’t alone in theirs. If I don’t share my experience then what good can my having gone through it come to? That’s the point of both of my memoirs at the end of the day. Yes, they allow me to tell my story, but I constantly ask myself why I feel compelled to do that. Here’s why: First, I’m a writer. Writing is just something I’m always going to be doing. Second, I know my best work comes when it’s coming from my center. For whatever reason, that’s the sort of artist I am.

When did I know I was ready/able/it was okay? I didn’t ever know it wasn’t okay. I’ve gotten less clumsy and even more honest about it all I think, but I’ve always dealt with what was on my heart pretty openly.

Further, how does it help anyone when we don’t say the truth? Is it okay for us as human beings just to humor each other? Or are we trying to evolve past protecting secrets and those who would perpetuate sickness at the expense of mental health because they just don’t want to be embarrassed and they’d impale themselves with the nearest pointy thing rather than taint the family name?

I guess it all depends on your specific set of circumstances.

Here’s something I might do if I felt compelled to deal with a subject that required me to reveal details that have the potential to cause an explosion of whatever size: Talk to those who have reason (or think they have reason) to be concerned about what you’re exploring and why. Try to be as respectful as possible. Say what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, why it’s important to you, and why you think you remember the details the way you do. It’s also a good idea to check yourself sometimes — our memories aren’t as reliable as we think they are — and people can go through the same things at the same time and have completely different experiences. Try to be empathetic to their version. Then, do what you need to do.

Finally — if the concerned parties aren’t alive, I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think they will.

AM

25 June 2021