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Turkey Day is nearly here. The radio is my head playing “ Over the River and Through the Woods ,” that old Thanksgiving classic I learned in second or third grade. I love that song, even though I never have seen that much snow as early as Thanksgiving. The other traditional Thanksgiving tune that stick in mind is the hymn, “ Come Ye Thankful People, Come ,” which I just discovered was written in 1844, the same year as “Over the River.” Thinking back over my personal Thanksgiving history, I find a lot of variation. Childhood Thanksgivings in New Mexico varied. Some years we visited my mother’s family in Las Cruces, where most of my cousins lived. Those years enough food for a small army filled my aunt’s kitchen table, and tables for eating were set up in the living room for adults and an enclosed porch for the kids. Other years we went to visit my father’s parents in Clovis where things were a little quieter. Or we stayed home in Los Alamos, enjoying the meal with various combinations o...

Those who've seen us know that not a thing could come between us. Many men have tried to split us up, but no one can. Lord help the mister who comes between me and my sister, and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man. I remember hearing this song on the radio as a very young girl, and again in junior high, sung in a school talent show by two cheerleaders who were best friends, as close as sisters. These lyrics, excerpted from a song originally written by Irving Berlin, have been adapted and recorded by a long line of singers, and they express the ideal of sisterhood: women bonded by birth, presenting a united front against all odds — yet sometimes turning against each other. Memoirs about the mother-daughter relationship would fill several shelves, but none that I’m aware of focus on the sisterly one. My thoughts have ranged in that direction the last few days, and I’m surprised that this niche seems to have been overlooked. Thinking back through stories told by f...

Have you ever wished you could watch movies of your ancestors and how they lived, or at least hear their voices? Although it's too late to capture your ancestors on video StoryCorp is doing something about that for future generations. They recognize the value of hearing voices from the past and are dedicated to preserving them. They are an independent nonprofit project whose mission is “to honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening.” Jerry Waxler wrote an inspiring blog post on Memory Writers Network about his heartwarming experience with StoryCorp. Realizing that a very small percentage of the world’s population will ever be able to visit a StoryCorp studio, they have begun urging people to use their own equipment to record interviews with family members and others they care about. This Thanksgiving, “StoryCorps asks you to start a new holiday tradition—set aside one hour on Friday, November 28th, to record a conversation with someone important to you. You can ...

Yesterday in what I just discovered was an ironic twist, I learned that November is National Life Writing Month . I learned about it when Linda Joy Myers mentioned the occasion while introducing Denis Ledoux, author of Turning Memories into Memoir , as her guest on the National Association of Memoir Writers monthly teleseminar. “As you know,” she said, “November is National Lifewriting Month.” Without elaborating, he confirmed that he knew. Then he went on to enchant us with a sticky web of thoughts about finding the myths in our lives and stories. This morning I discovered the irony. Denis Ledoux is the originator of National Life Writing Month , but I did not discover this from him. I learned of it when Google led me to a page on Angie Pedersen’s Scrap Your Stories site. She tells how he has been helping both new and experienced memoirists find and express their stories since 1988, and includes a list of Denis’s tips for writing lifestories, and a link to his resource page. Linda...

I occasionally use the following two paragraphs in a PowerPoint presentation during writing classes to illustrate the point that stripping words to their bare essence is one of the most effective ways to emphasize the power of your message: I look up at the gnarled oak tree, starkly outlined against the sky and see a single dry leaf clinging tenaciously to the largest limb. Every other leaf in the woods fell to the ground weeks ago when we had that last fierce wind, but this leaf may still be there until the tree buds in the spring. The leaf reminds me of my mother, clinging stubbornly to life long past the time when it seemed her body was ready to let go. (83 words) Lifeless oak leaves cling tenaciously to skeletal branches. Well into winter, they stubbornly resist gales, unwilling to separate from the reality they've known. My mother was the ultimate oak leaf. (30 words) The most common response after several seconds of silence is “How do you get from number one to number two? I ...

Photo by Jurvetson You know the image of the writer as a starving, tortured soul, each agonized word blurred on the page by sweat beads dripping from his brow. He writes in longhand, on a hand-hewn log desk, by candlelight, wrapped in rags against the wintry blast, with only a crust of bread to sustain his unworthy efforts, and page after page of tormented efforts are wadded into balls and tossed into the fireplace for a bit of added warmth. He makes frequent stops to sharpen the quill with which he writes or to fill the inkwell into which he dips that plume. He may occasionally resort to chopping kindling to gather his erratic thoughts, mind churning in sync with his stomach. In the depths of his heart, he knows these efforts will pay off. His words will be pressed upon millions of pages and stir the hearts of readers with passion second only to his. You know the image. You may even relate to that image and fear to write because of it. I say to you now, forget it! It’s only a myth. Wr...