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Telling the Children About Cancer

The Family Gathers Around Martha

Martha Blowen, my partner in life and in work, died on August 18, 2008,  from metastasized breast cancer. The following is from collated excerpts of journals we both kept at the time.  (Before she passed away, she gave me permission to share her entries.) The memoir is called My Eye Fell Into the Soup, after […]

Telling the Children About Cancer

Our First Evening Coping with Cancer

Martha Blowen, my partner in life and in work, died on August 18, 2008,  from metastasized breast cancer. The following is from collated excerpts of journals we both kept at the time.  (Before she passed away, she gave me permission to share her entries.) The memoir is called My Eye Fell Into the Soup, after […]

Telling the Children About Cancer

The Pleura Is Full of Fluid

Martha Blowen, my partner in life and in work, died on August 18, 2008, from metastasized breast cancer. The following is from collated excerpts of journals we both kept at the time.  (Before she passed away, she gave me permission to share her entries.) The memoir is called My Eye Fell Into the Soup, after […]

Telling the Children About Cancer

Draining the Cancer from the Pleura

Martha Blowen, my partner in life and in work, died on August 18, 2008, from metastasized breast cancer. The following is from collated excerpts of journals we both kept at the time. (Before she passed away, she gave me permission to share her entries.) The memoir is called My Eye Fell Into the Soup, after […]

Writers Learning About the Memory List at a "Turning Memories Into Memoirs" Workshop

Memoir Trash Talk

Three Ways Memoir Writer’s Use Trash Talk Most of us use a certain amount of trash talk when we think about our memoir writing projects or talk about them. We are very clever about our evasive tactics however and disguise the trash as thoughtfulness. Here are a few examples of trash talk. 1. I need […]

The Memoir Network Don't Let Writer's Block Stop You

2 Causes of Memoir Writer’s Block: Not Telling the Truth or Writing Unimportant Material

Many writers suffer from writer’s block, yet few understand—and much less resolve—its possible causes. There are a number of reasons that contribute to difficulty—especially blockage—in writing. In memoir writing, the infamous “writer’s block” can result from avoidance—that is, you don’t want to deal with uncomfortable material and so you “block.”

Cancer diary entries

La Ultima Vez—The last time

Besame, besame mucho / Como si fuera esta noche la última vez… Kiss me, kiss me a lot / As if tonight were the last time… Cesaria Evora’s voice, strong and oh! so beautiful, comes in from the livingroom as I pour myself coffee in the kitchen. It is early morning, and I am thinking […]

characters need to be described in a memoir

The Boys Laugh Again

The following story is written by Edwina Carr-Jangarathis a memoir professional who has done considerable writing. We had the pleasure of publishing her book In Their Own Words.

TIMKYLEEyes squeezed tightly shut, I listen for the laughter of my two grandsons as I drift on my rubber raft. I’m certain if I’m silent and try hard enough I’ll hear the laughter of the boys again. Glimpses of summer days when we laughed together flash through my mind. One day, we linked our three rafts so they bumped over the small ocean waves one after the other. Not as content as I was to sit and ride, Kyle dove down under the blue surface that seemed so deep to me, fearful as I am. Where is he? I began to worry. Then, I felt something tugging at my feet and I saw him reappeared near the edge of my rubber raft. It shook fearfully and threatened to tip. Tim came to help him “torture” me. Seeing my reaction, they laughed and pulled all the more at my raft. Splashing them in self-defense, I laughed and shouted “You can’t treat your grandmother this way.” They splashed back, giggling and kicking their feet behind them. [Free Membership required to read more. See below. ]

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What I Saw on Christmas Day

This is what I saw on Christmas Day while sitting on the couch with my husband at the Vicarage by the Sea, the Alzheimer’s care facility where he now resides. Earlier, Henry and I had exchanged simple gifts. I gave him a homemade sock monkey that said “Kisses For You” on its hat; I’d read […]