The Discipline of the Hours
One of the keys to writing narrative (anything from the personal essay and short story to the memoir or novel) has nothing to do with form, style, voice, subject, or grammar. It has to do with structure and discipline, commitment to the work, to the vocation of being a writer. For roughly three decades I have more or less never had to be disciplined in relationship to time, the hours spent steadily flooding a blank page, inking it up with a story, my own or that of characters peopling my imagination. I have written countless poems, short essays, and blog posts over the years, and only a handful of times have I spent a few weeks sculpting a work of any great length (twenty to twenty-five pages, maximum). Now I am coming to terms with the fact that now that middle age is here, I must shift from poetry to memoir-style writing and begin to give a small part of each day to doing the work, writing the tale that will help me discover who I am, how I became this individual, and come to accept him.
If you have a deepening and strengthening desire to write, to set the story of your life down on paper, clichéd as it sounds, you have to commit the time and effort to this goal, which will be enlightening and liberating once it has been completed. Writing, no matter what you write about, is time-consuming and emotional, and rich in provoking thought and seeing where that river flows. I write to make readers think and feel, from the subtlest sensations to the most tidal of feelings and the most mind-rupturing of thoughts. But that, in short, is the task of the poet, his purpose. The muse comes unbidden and if you do not follow her instruction, you will pay. With memoir or autobiography, you and your life experiences are the muse, but the memories have to be dug for, and with continued excavation they will rise to the surface where you will examine them for the germ of truth that supports the theme of the story you want to tell. This all takes time, as does the writing. You must accept that in the act of writing, especially memoir, time is not your enemy but your friend. And this is where what I call the discipline of the hours comes in.
In writing any kind of text of substantial length where the narrative thread must be kept up and woven to illuminate the history and depth of an idea or display the tapestry of a life lived, you must commit to setting apart a couple of hours each day to writing. And, to turn this into a habit, you should write at the same time every day. In doing so, it will become routine. If you want to share the story of your life with family, friends, and readers out in the world, you must become a steady hand in developing your narrative with a rhythm that becomes almost invisible to you over the months it will take you to write, rewrite, then revise and edit your memoir or autobiography. But this steady hand will itself take time and effort that, if you are not a seasoned writer, will at first be frustrating, anxiety-producing, and make you want to quit. In a word, to find a flow in your writing you must stick with the pressure of the blank page that every writer begins with, because in time it will disappear, not just the snow-white page but the pressure, the anxiety, and the frustration, even the disappointment.
On that very first day, just sit in front of the empty page and gaze at it. Stare it down. Welcome it. How do you do that, when that vast abyss is so daunting and ferocious looking, especially for a first-time writer? Well, you meditate on it. Once you get a real good look at the page, close your eyes. Begin by taking a deep, slow breath, holding it for a moment, then letting it out slowly, gently. Repeat this four times. Then, eyes still closed, keep breathing in this manner as you envision the blank page in your mind, taking your focus from your breath and putting it on the page, and think this thought: This page is where I begin the journey of knowing myself. This page and all the pages that will follow are the mirror of my life lived, reflecting me to myself.
Writing may be the least physical of the arts, but nevertheless, it calls for discipline and commitment just as the others do. That first few hours will be the most difficult, I promise you. It will be excruciating and not just because you may not be used to writing or think you don’t know how to write, but you do. We all do. We all pretty much know the fundamentals, and over time, through writing and rewriting you will forge ahead with greater ease and fluidity, and it will become a joy, not a chore. It will, though, as the weeks turn into months, become emotionally difficult at times because of the painful memories and hard truths that will inevitably come up that you will naturally want no part of, but must welcome, as they are part of the story of you. And when these moments arise, even if you are not writing, you must sit with them, embrace them, and say to them, “You are a part of me. You may be a past experience, but you and all the feelings felt then, and those felt now in this remembrance, have had a hand in making me who I am. I have carried you for all these years, and you will never not be a part of me, but now I have the opportunity, in this moment, in writing, to accept you and set myself free from the pain, from the burden of the suffering, then and now.”
Writing is a great teacher, and as has been said many times, therapeutic as well. To learn from writing, to have it be a source of therapy, the discipline of the hours and of confronting your past, the memories, and the feelings they bring to the surface is an absolute necessity. In memoir you must show the growth of the self, the evolution of your personhood and personality, your identity as it stands in that moment of daily writing. In doing so you not only better understand yourself in the present but also your many past selves, and the thread connecting them becomes clear (your theme). And further, the humanity you reveal is what readers hope to see and relate to; in reading memoir readers seek kinship with the writer in the universals of the human condition. Your commitment to the hours each day and to facing your past are testaments to this and will come through in your writing.
Take the time to accept that penning your memoir will do exactly that—take time. Do not rush in becoming disciplined to the hours and to structuring your day, all your other obligations and responsibilities, around the couple of hours a day you should be writing. If telling your story is that important to you, you will do it. The need to do so will become all-powerful and you will sit and write. You will become one with the hours and write.