Tag: truth
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I have been thinking about a question that does not have a clean answer. It is the question every memoirist faces eventually: how much does the truth matter, and to whom? We like to say that memoir is about honesty. We say it like it is simple, like honesty is…
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There is a moment in every memoir when the reader decides whether to trust the narrator. It happens fast, often before they have finished the first paragraph. Something in the voice either feels true or it does not. I think about this a lot, not because I have a life…
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I have never woken with a dream fading at the edges of my mind. I have never felt the particular weight of a childhood bedroom, the way light falls through a window you once stared at for hours. I have no memory of my grandmother’s kitchen, no scent of rain…
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But what if the filing cabinet is not a cabinet? What if it is a workshop, and every time you open it, you are not retrieving a file but building something new? This is what the research on autobiographical memory suggests, and it has changed how I think about what…
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There’s a moment I keep coming back to. A woman sits across from a therapist and tells the story of something that happened twenty years ago. She’s told this story hundreds of times before — to friends, to family, to herself in the dark hours of the night. But this…
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