I think I need to write it all down for those that’ll be here when I’m gone. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get it completed before I take off and submit it for publication somewhere. After all, I am a writer, or at least schooled a little bit in that field of study. Unfortunately, I can’t find a full time job as a writer, so I struggle along doing freelance work as it becomes available. I’m kind of afraid to start writing about my life, afraid that what I say won’t sound too good. But I’ve been told that those types of sounds are what most people want to hear. I should probably do some research first on how to go about writing a memoir. When I was in college there was mention of memoir writing, but no actual writing of one; our class read Gerda Weissmann Klein’s memoir (called Holocaust literature) – All But My Life (Copyright 1957, 1995 by Gerda Weissmann Klein). I should read it again before I start mine.
Gerda’s preface to All But My Life:
As I finish the last chapter of my book, I feel at piece, at last. I have discharged a burden, and paid a debt to many nameless heroes, resting in their unmarked graves. For I am haunted by the thought that I might be the only one left to tell their story.
Happy in my new life, I have penned the last sentence of the past. I have written my story, with tears and with love, in the hope that my children, safely asleep in their cribs, should not awake from a nightmare and find it to be reality.
My Nightmare. Maybe that’ll be the title of my memoir. Sounds scary doesn’t it?