I think it was Terry Pratchett who said that writing the first draft is telling the story to yourself, which feels true to the experience for me. As the fog of memory and vague inspiration clears and the story comes into focus, sometimes details at the beginning of the tale no longer make sense, or are difficult to reconcile with information that comes later -- not just plot holes, which are often easily remedied, but changes in the emotional truth come forward that present challenges and help refine the piece.
My writing is mostly nonfictional these days, which is reliant upon the art of remembering and, just as much, of constructing and selecting from memory. When I write personal nonfiction, I'm plucking memories from the tree of my life and arranging them just so until a certain narrative effect comes through. Other truths and memories that aren't relevant to the narrative don't get their moment in that piece. It's effective yet it's also distortive all while aiming for emotional truth.
And the stories that I tell myself about what happened in the past reconfigure over time as my understanding of things changes, too.
The act of remembering is reconstructive: we are telling ourselves a story of what happened every time, potentially distorting the past or losing details without meaning to, then committing those new versions to memory...until the next time the story comes up and we find a way to tell it again. It is always a creative practice, I think. And without always knowing that we are doing it, we get to make decisions about which stories we tell ourselves the most frequently, the details we focus on, and how we interweave them alongside other narratives and datapoints. Reflecting deeply on a memory feels a bit like a summoning of a creature back from death -- it starts walking on its own again, and you're never sure what it will do.
Hi Marta! i soo relate to this description! I literally picture it like a cone, but you hold the larger opening to your eye. The memories I see through the small aperture are acute and vivid, however if it's not in that 'window of viewing' it is super murky. So it's a weird space to be in...let's say with a friend, sometimes I can remember every detail, exactly what was said, what we were both wearing and much of our physical surroundings, but then have zero recall around other experiences I've had with them. I have a good friend that refers to it as her "swiss cheese memory". We often swap stories from our adolescence but we are always delighted to hear what feels like a new story because the "holes" in our memories are different. Also, I love the snow globe imagery, I often use this as helpful image with my family members, when I take alone time, I'll say " i need to go let my snow globe settle" when i'm feeling dysregulated
Oh that really is what it feels like, isn’t it, letting your snow globe settle when you’re overwhelmed. I hadn’t thought of that but yeah, that’s perfect. I realized that the greatest loss in losing my former community in my divorce was all the scraps of memory—especially of my kids—that they held for me.
Rosie and Tessie were our dogs from the ASPCA when we lived in the farmhouse(s). As many others, we went for one and brought home two. Tessie was female 1 years old, Rosie at 6 months, was her best friend ever. They were together for 14 years or so, through all the moves, divorce, city-living too, until their deaths. Rosie was in honor of your dad, who we understood used to be called that in his youth. It also went with his reddish-brown airdale-lab mix. All his littermates were light cream-colored, and beautiful; he was the unusual one, the smart one, the one that Tessie responded to in the kennel adjacent. She and he were bright-eyed, and came right up to the chainlink barrier, saying 'take me; take me too!'
There are many stories around and about them, including getting lost in Winter and being found a few days later down by the levee. They were a pair! And their spirits fill all the best dreams one can have: freedom, discovery, running-to... [not from].
I remember vibes as well! I have an episodic, rather than a sequential memories. Far away memories are easier to sequence because they are bigger blocks of time with different settings, but in general I have a collection of stories about my past. I remember more about what I *felt* more acutely than what happened, but I also have very vivid pictures of physical objects--the edge of a counter, a scarf, the angle of a tree. My spatial memory is also distorted; when I drive by a house I used to live in, I have often misremembered the sizes of spaces in relation to one another, and not just childhood memories where I was physically smaller. This is all so interesting to think about!
I have a freakishly good memory. I can remember events back to when I was 2-3 years old, and I have memories at 3 years old of remembering my 2nd birthday party (which is kind of wild, it's almost like looking at a dream of a dream). The way I remember, it's somewhat film like but somewhat not. The colors aren't vivid, it's like an old Polaroid photograph in quality. But sometimes the other senses are quite vivid. Some memories are more vivid than others. Sometimes I remember details slightly wrong.
I would say that my more recent memory is much worse, especially in the last 5 years. I've repeatedly forgotten conversations I've had with people, and folks have had to remind me.
I think it was Terry Pratchett who said that writing the first draft is telling the story to yourself, which feels true to the experience for me. As the fog of memory and vague inspiration clears and the story comes into focus, sometimes details at the beginning of the tale no longer make sense, or are difficult to reconcile with information that comes later -- not just plot holes, which are often easily remedied, but changes in the emotional truth come forward that present challenges and help refine the piece.
My writing is mostly nonfictional these days, which is reliant upon the art of remembering and, just as much, of constructing and selecting from memory. When I write personal nonfiction, I'm plucking memories from the tree of my life and arranging them just so until a certain narrative effect comes through. Other truths and memories that aren't relevant to the narrative don't get their moment in that piece. It's effective yet it's also distortive all while aiming for emotional truth.
And the stories that I tell myself about what happened in the past reconfigure over time as my understanding of things changes, too.
The act of remembering is reconstructive: we are telling ourselves a story of what happened every time, potentially distorting the past or losing details without meaning to, then committing those new versions to memory...until the next time the story comes up and we find a way to tell it again. It is always a creative practice, I think. And without always knowing that we are doing it, we get to make decisions about which stories we tell ourselves the most frequently, the details we focus on, and how we interweave them alongside other narratives and datapoints. Reflecting deeply on a memory feels a bit like a summoning of a creature back from death -- it starts walking on its own again, and you're never sure what it will do.
Hi Marta! i soo relate to this description! I literally picture it like a cone, but you hold the larger opening to your eye. The memories I see through the small aperture are acute and vivid, however if it's not in that 'window of viewing' it is super murky. So it's a weird space to be in...let's say with a friend, sometimes I can remember every detail, exactly what was said, what we were both wearing and much of our physical surroundings, but then have zero recall around other experiences I've had with them. I have a good friend that refers to it as her "swiss cheese memory". We often swap stories from our adolescence but we are always delighted to hear what feels like a new story because the "holes" in our memories are different. Also, I love the snow globe imagery, I often use this as helpful image with my family members, when I take alone time, I'll say " i need to go let my snow globe settle" when i'm feeling dysregulated
Oh that really is what it feels like, isn’t it, letting your snow globe settle when you’re overwhelmed. I hadn’t thought of that but yeah, that’s perfect. I realized that the greatest loss in losing my former community in my divorce was all the scraps of memory—especially of my kids—that they held for me.
Do you remember Rosie and Tessie?
No I don’t?
Rosie and Tessie were our dogs from the ASPCA when we lived in the farmhouse(s). As many others, we went for one and brought home two. Tessie was female 1 years old, Rosie at 6 months, was her best friend ever. They were together for 14 years or so, through all the moves, divorce, city-living too, until their deaths. Rosie was in honor of your dad, who we understood used to be called that in his youth. It also went with his reddish-brown airdale-lab mix. All his littermates were light cream-colored, and beautiful; he was the unusual one, the smart one, the one that Tessie responded to in the kennel adjacent. She and he were bright-eyed, and came right up to the chainlink barrier, saying 'take me; take me too!'
There are many stories around and about them, including getting lost in Winter and being found a few days later down by the levee. They were a pair! And their spirits fill all the best dreams one can have: freedom, discovery, running-to... [not from].
I remember vibes as well! I have an episodic, rather than a sequential memories. Far away memories are easier to sequence because they are bigger blocks of time with different settings, but in general I have a collection of stories about my past. I remember more about what I *felt* more acutely than what happened, but I also have very vivid pictures of physical objects--the edge of a counter, a scarf, the angle of a tree. My spatial memory is also distorted; when I drive by a house I used to live in, I have often misremembered the sizes of spaces in relation to one another, and not just childhood memories where I was physically smaller. This is all so interesting to think about!
I have a freakishly good memory. I can remember events back to when I was 2-3 years old, and I have memories at 3 years old of remembering my 2nd birthday party (which is kind of wild, it's almost like looking at a dream of a dream). The way I remember, it's somewhat film like but somewhat not. The colors aren't vivid, it's like an old Polaroid photograph in quality. But sometimes the other senses are quite vivid. Some memories are more vivid than others. Sometimes I remember details slightly wrong.
I would say that my more recent memory is much worse, especially in the last 5 years. I've repeatedly forgotten conversations I've had with people, and folks have had to remind me.