Thelma Zirkelbach on Writing Memoir

        In this installment of Wrote By Rote I'm pleased to welcome visiting memoir author Thelma Zirkelbach. You may have met Thelma during the Blogging from A to Z Challenge in which she participated with her blog Windowsphere: A Circle of Hope.  She's here today to talk about her memoir that was released earlier this year.

      Stumbling Through the Dark is my memoir of my husband’s and my final year together.  In October 2004 he complained of a sore throat.  A month later he was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia and our world was never the same.

     This disease was not supposed to happen.  I was a romance writer then, and I expected to live happily ever after.  Women usually outlive their spouses, but I had good reason to believe I would be the first to go.  I was five years older than Ralph so I was certain he, who was much better at coping, would outlive me.  But that was not to be.

      Because I’m a writer, soon after his diagnosis, I decided to write a how-to book:  How to help your partner survive cancer.  It would be upbeat and optimistic and I would call it Leukemia Wife.  As he got sicker and medical mishaps began occurring, I ditched that idea and planned an angry expose of the medical system.  But writing about anger isn’t productive, and by the time he died, I knew I wanted to write a memoir about our final year and my early widowhood.

      How do you write a memoir when your heart is breaking?  The answer is, you write a memoir because your heart is breaking.  Trouble was, I had no idea how to write one.  So I went online and by great good luck found Gotham Writers Workshop.  I enrolled in an on-line class in memoir writing, then another and another.  Stumbling Through the Dark is the result.

Here are some things I learned about writing memoir:

1.      The cardinal rule for fiction applies:  Show, don’t tell.
2.      Write in scenes with dialogue and description.  Again, just like fiction.
3.      In your story, reflect on what’s happening and on your feelings.
4.      Add back story.  How did you get to this place in your life?  Don’t tell the back story all at once; let readers learn about you and the others in your story gradually.
5.      Be honest.  Don’t be afraid to let readers see your fear or guilt or pain but don’t forget to add lighter moments as well.

      Writing this book has been both heartbreaking and joyful.  I hope you’ll look it up on Amazon at Stumbling Through the Dark: A Husband and Wife's Final Year of Life Together or at Barnes and Noble.  It’s available in both paperback and e-format.  And if you read it, please leave a review.  I love knowing what readers think.  

         Have you had a painful life experience that you've written a memoir about?  Have you considered writing a memoir of this nature?    Have you read Thelma's book yet?

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Born in the Shadow of the Computer (Part 4)

English: Tandy Radio Shack TRS-80 Model 4P (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 
       Prior to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge I had started a series about the influence of computers on my life.  The series begin with my own frustration about computer problems I was having at that time.  My computer woes were addressed in time for me to be able to make it through the April Challenge, but the story now continues as I arrive into the 1990's as a true computer novice.  If you'd like to start the story from the beginning you can go to my post of March 9th and then proceed through the two posts after that one.  

        The used computer that my father purchased in the late 1980's was probably an IBM model that had been outdated by newer computers with the earliest versions of Microsoft Windows technology.  The computer worked very well for someone who knew the language of the computer.  My father took courses and had learned the basics and a bit more. 

        I knew nothing but how to bring up Tetris and a few other games my father had showed me.  If my father wasn't at home or not working on his machine, he allowed me to use the computer.  I scheduled my life as much as I could to be able to play on his computer while he was not using it.  The arrangement worked just fine though I was learning nothing of real value about computers.  My dad offered to teach me a few things, but I had no patience for that and didn't see much value in it.

        Then something rather ironic happened.  After running through a couple of unsatisfactory jobs that I'd taken after having stopped traveling with the theater company job that had kept me on the road for many years, I found a job that seemed a bit more reputable--I went to work in a Radio Shack store in Alcoa, Tennessee.

         A big product push at Radio Shack at that time was with their line of computers.  I was walking into a job where I didn't know much about any of the products and probably least of all the computers.  New store personnel were given special training classes about operating the computers, but I didn't understand any of it.  I'm not sure if my mind was stubbornly resistant to new technology or if I was just dumb when it came to things like computers.   I was probably one of the worst computer sales people they'd ever had in their store.

        Fortunately I had back-up from a couple of other employees who seemed to know more than I did--or at least acted like they did.  Also, there was no huge amount of interest in computers in our store so that mostly kept me off the hook.   Primarily we were selling electronic parts, toys, and sound devices.  I didn't know all that much about those either.  I was not thrilled about my performance as a Radio Shack salesperson, but at least I had a job.   And the upper echelon had their eyes on me as a candidate to be a store manager due to my management experience and a demeanor that suited me for such a position.    Things for me were okay on the job front.

       Sadly, at about the same time as I started my job at Radio Shack, my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  He was in latter stages when the doctors discovered the problem and he began deteriorating rapidly.  It was not long before he had no interest in his computer.   Since the computer was in the bedroom where my father was most of the time, it stayed idle on the work desk where he had spent so much time.  There was now a sadness connected to computers for me.

         My time was now divided among Radio Shack, my wife and kids, and as much time as I could devote to my parents.   My father was withering away.  If he managed to make it out of bed, he was like a specter sitting in his favorite living room chair.  He would try to eat, but there was no joy in that for him and eating seemed rather useless at that point.  Then he was no longer home.  They moved my father to the hospital and we were prepared for him to die.

         After my father passed on September 9, 1990, his computer sat covered and unused in his bedroom.  I still had to think about the computers at work, but I no longer played on my father's computer.  Somehow it seemed to have died with him.

         Did you ever own or consider owning a computer from Radio Shack?   Have you ever worked at a job that you never really grasped very well?   How old were you when you lost your father or are you fortunate enough to still have him around?

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A to Z Challenge Reflections for 2013: Words of Love

          My decision to have all four of my blogs in the A to Z Challenge of 2013 might have been a bit foolhardy considering the computer problems I was having prior to April.  With the addition of some health issues and other life annoyances, I was relatively unprepared for April aside from having most of my post topics planned out.  No posts written ahead of time meant a lot of work writing throughout the month and much less time allowed for visiting other blogs.

          Blogging experience helped out as I was able to crank out the necessary posts--104 total--in order to keep all blogs running without having to drop any.  As I said, my networking was woefully inadequate so that blog visits were down on all posts and I did not add a significant number of followers to any of my blogs.  But the mission for April was accomplished in the barest sense so for that at least I can be proud.

         "Words of Love" was my theme on Wrote By Rote.  During the month I explored different words that were synonymous or related to the word "love".   My thanks to my A to Z co-host Nicole Ayers for providing me the idea for this theme.

          Most of all I'd like to thank all of my visitors during the month of April, especially those of you who left comments.   If you are new to this blog, I write about topics related to writing memoir and I normally post every Saturday.   I welcome guest posts related to the topic.  If you are a writer of memoir or merely like to dabble and would like to submit something to this blog, please contact me in the comment section and I will get back to you.

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Zing ( #atozchallenge )

Zing logo used from April 2009 until 18 June 2011 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

       Love is zing when it's the thing that makes us want to greet a new day.  When we are energized and inspired to be at our creative best.   There's not much better feeling than to be in love with someone who loves you back.

        You may have heard the line lifted from a song or two, "Zing went the strings of my heart!".  How many songs have been inspired by love?  Happy songs, sad songs--actually probably a majority of songs.  Love is music that fills us inside with lush orchestral strings in the heart or the plaintive sound of a lone voice in the night backed by a strumming guitar.

         The language of music tells of so many stories, but love is the story that seems to capture us most of all.  You can sing in the rain or sing on a train, but if the refrain is about love then ears perk up as others identify with the lyrics.  Nearly all of us have been in love or are in love and even if we don't know the lyrics, they're easy to learn because we know the old story.

         The zing of love has rung out as long as history can remember.  And the zing will continue to sing!

         Listen to the zing and revel in love.  Enjoy the ride.  The ups, the downs, and all that makes the world go around.  If we have never loved, then we have never lived.

          Do you like love songs?   What are your favorite love songs?   Have you ever written a song about love? 

            The Reflections Post for this blog will be appearing Saturday May 4th as we return to our regular Saturday schedule.  For more information on A to Z Reflections visit the A to Z Blog. 

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Yearning ( #atozchallenge )

Marley in  March of 2011

   
     One of the strongest feelings of love is yearning.   When separation from a loved one causes those feelings of wanting to be with them so much that we are thinking of them throughout the day, that is yearning. Yearning is like a fire in the heart.  A memo on the brain attached with a tack.  

          My wife and I have two granddaughters who live on the opposite coast from us.  We don't see them much, but we have a yearning to be with them.  Especially my wife.   She talks about them daily.  She'll buy them things when she goes to the store.  They have stolen parts of our heart.

        This week one of the granddaughters will be coming to visit us for a weekend.  My wife can hardly wait, the yearning is so strong in her.   We both are thrilled because this is the oldest grandchild--she'll be five in September.   A weekend will go so fast, but it's what we've got for now.

          Someday we'll figure this out.   We've got a third grandchild on the way.  Grandparents and grandchildren shouldn't have to live on opposite coasts.  Yes, we need to figure this one out.

            Who do you have a yearning to see and spend time with?    What has been the biggest yearning in your life?  

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xoxoxo-- Kisses and Hugs Like My Grandmother Used to Send Me

Liberated Hugs and Kisses Blocks (Photo credit: Cut To Pieces)

 
     Whenever my grandmother used to send me cards or letters when I was a child, at the bottom she would add "xoxoxo".   The first time I saw this I asked my mother what it meant.  After she told me that the x's were kisses and the o's were hugs, I could see it.  I could see the kisses and hugs.

         I was so enthralled by this charming bit of messaging that I started adding it to my own letters and valentine cards.   To me it was like a secret code that had been imparted to me by my grandmother.  It was a while before I saw the x's and o's anywhere else--in a cartoon I think.  Eventually I realized this was a widespread bit of symbolization that many used, but for me those letters always reminded me of my grandmother's message of love to me.

         Other than in my first seven years of life I never saw my grandmother very often.  We lived too far apart most of the time to allow for many visits.  Even though I rarely was able to spend much time with her after my seventh year, she always remembered my birthdays.  Every Christmas I would eagerly await my grandmother's holiday package of homemade candies and sweets which was loaded with lots of sugar and spice and hugs and kisses.  Though far away geographically, she was always near in my thoughts.

         My grandmother died when I was thirty-seven.  I was able to see her several times after I became an adult and often traveled to where she lived.  One of the best weeks of my life was right after my first year of college when I decided to embark on my own odyssey.

        My grandparents house was one of the stops on my journey.  Each morning my grandmother would fix breakfast and sit with me while I ate.  Later my grandfather, who had already started his rounds around town before I had woken up, would come back to pick me up so he could show off his grandson to the folks he knew.   The idyllic afternoons were spent reading books from their home library or just sitting on the porch with my grandparents.  Such a fine summer week it was!

        It's now been twenty-five years since the passing of my grandmother.  She was a fine lady.  I still hear in my mind the melodic strains of her voice.   The smell of bacon takes me back to those mornings when she'd fix me breakfast.  And when I think of xoxoxo, my grandmother is the first person who comes to my mind.

         Now I'm a grandparent with grandchildren whom I love dearly.  I'll have to teach them about xoxoxox.

         Do you ever sign off letters with x's and o's?   Were you able to have a relationship with your grandparents?   What traditions are you passing on to your children or grandchildren?


         

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Wonder ( #atozchallenge )

Image by Thomas Leuthard via Flickr

      Wonder is one of those crazy words that mean more than one thing.  You might feel a sense of wonder about something, but then you might wonder about whatever it was that you experienced.  Yeah, that sounds like how love can be sometimes.

       Love can be full of wonder in the sense of amazement.  The cliched metaphor of fireworks going off at a kiss came from the fact that sometimes kissing the one you love is like the amazing wonderful things happening that makes all of life seem bright and illuminated.   A relationship filled with hope and positive future is all flowers, smiles, and dazzling stars in an endless sky.  Love is beauty.

       But then when a day of doubt creeps in you might begin to wonder.  Wonder in the negative sense of inklings of distrust and apprehension about what will happen tomorrow.   Does my dear one still love me?  Is there someone else?   Is this the beginning of the end?   You wonder as the world darkens.

       It's best not to let doubts, fears, and wondering cloud the thinking.  Just to go on and let the future take care of itself.   Love should be a liberator and not an oppressor.  When things do not turn out as you expected, sometimes you just have to let love do what ever it is it needs to do.

       Love is not always a two way street.  And there are times when the wonder of love is in the wondering of what it's all about.

        Do you ever wonder about love?   Has the feeling of love ever given you a sense of wonder?   Do you see love as a liberator, a captor, a bit of both, or something else entirely?

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