Voices on Writing
Fearless: Sue Williams Silverman
by Barbara DeMarco-Barrett

Sue William Silverman's new book is Fearless Confessions: A Writer's Guide to Memoir (University of Georgia Press). Her first book, Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You, won the AWP award series in creative nonfiction. Her second memoir, Love Sick: One Woman's Journey through Sexual Addiction (W. W. Norton), is also a Lifetime Television original movie. Her poetry collection is Hieroglyphics in Neon (Orchises). Sue is associate editor of Fourth Genre: Explorations in Nonfiction, and teaches at the low-residency MFA in Writing program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She lives close to Lake Michigan with two cats and her partner, the poet Marc Sheehan.

BDB: I recall that you started out writing novels but didn't truly find your voice until you started writing memoir.

SWS: That's true. Back when I received my MFA degree, in the late 1980s, I never even heard the words "memoir" or "creative nonfiction." You were either on the poetry or the fiction track. Of course, I learned a lot studying fiction. I improved my writing skills and published a bunch of short stories. But the novels, well, let's say I couldn't find an emotionally authentic voice.

BDB: Why do you think you couldn't find your voice with fiction?

SWS: All of my (unpublished) novels are, on some level, either about incest or sexually addicted women (written before I even knew the term "sexual addiction"). Basically, I was trying to tell my true story by hiding behind a fictional guise. All my creative energy was used to disguise, not enlighten, which is not a good strategy.

Sure, plenty of authors write autobiographical novels and poetry -- which is fine. But, for me, the more I tried to hide or make sure no one could possibly guess I was writing about myself, the more the voice sounded strained and artificial. I simply needed to tell the story straight.

BDB: Writers sometimes wonder if they have more than one memoir in them, but you did. When you were writing your first book, did you think there would be another?

SWS: No, never. Though I knew there was enough material to warrant a second book, I didn't think I had the courage to write it. I never thought I'd tell anyone (except my therapist) about the depth, destruction, and shame of my sexual addiction.

But here's what happened: after the first memoir was published, I received positive support for it. Many women (and some men) wrote to me, thanking me, in effect, for telling what was their story, too. That's when I began to realize the power of telling all our own stories. This response is what helped give me the courage to write a second memoir, the one about sexual addiction.

BDB: Do you ever have any qualms about writing such personal material and revealing so much?

SWS: The qualms I felt were short-lived. When Love Sick was first published, I gave a lot of interviews, and some of the questions I was asked were horrific. For example, one, with a radio talk show host in Denver -- a shock jock -- asked me: "Where's the kinkiest place you've ever had sex?" That question floored me. I was devastated and humiliated. The book isn't about sex! It's about addiction.

But what I want to emphasize, more than anything, are the much more important and heartfelt responses I receive from readers who respond to my books by telling me of their own struggles, who let me know that my story has helped them on their own journeys. Now, I ignore those insensitive reactions and focus on the more positive and empowering responses.

BDB: And now we have the wonderful book, Fearless Confessions: A Writer's Guide to Memoir. I'm guessing this book was a natural evolution for you as a memoirist and a teacher of writing memoir.

SWS: Yes! I teach at the low-residency MFA in Writing program at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. And the kernel of each chapter of Fearless Confessions originated in a workshop or lecture for my students.

Plus, I feel there is much misunderstanding what a memoir really is, or should be, so I thought I'd share my own opinions about the genre.

BDB: I'm also guessing that by writing this book, you believe the memoir form hasn't saturated the market.

SWS: Not even close. Reading about someone else's experience helps us feel not so alone. That's what readers react to, and that's why the genre will always be important.

BDB: One editor from a major publishing house came on my radio show, "Writers on Writing," and said she no longer read novels. For her, blogs have taken the place of novel reading, and she believes the memoir is replacing the novel. What do you think?

SWS: Interesting. I guess I don't quite agree, though. There's room for all genres. Good novels will always have a readership. So will good memoirs. And good blogs, for that matter. I like to think that each form adds to what's available to read, not subtracts from it.

BDB: Do you believe some writers are fiction writers and others are essayists or memoirists?

SWS: Some writers are just geniuses who can write everything! Most of us, though, probably feel more comfortable in one form or another. Or, we might go through stages. I wrote nonfiction for quite a few years but then, after finishing Love Sick, I began to write poetry -- even though, previously, I'd never written a poem in my life -- not even bad high school poetry. So you never know.

Also, I might add, there's so much morphing of forms now. Linked short story collections are called novels; linked essays are called memoirs; there are "memoir novels." Art is part of the mix, too, with graphic novels and memoirs. There's a big blurring of genres going on now, which is exciting, if confusing.

BDB: How do you teach memoir writing?

SWS: First and foremost, I emphasize the importance of voice in memoir, and that each memoir employs two voices to tell a story. One, the Voice of Innocence (to loosely borrow from the poet William Blake), relates the basic narrative of the story, what happened to you: "This happened to me and then this next thing happened to me."

The Voice of Experience, on the other hand, offers a more mature examination of the events by exploring the progression of thought of the memoir. It adds a deeper, more internal, and reflective voice. It tries to understand what the events mean. What are the metaphors of the experience?

BDB: What is the biggest challenge for the first-time memoirist?

SWS: Finding or discovering that Voice of Experience. Beginning memoirists tend to focus on the facts: this is what happened to me. But that's just half the story. And, really, the more interesting story is the one behind the facts -- that Voice of Experience. A memoirist needs to discover what the facts of the story mean. That's why I write memoir in the first place. If I knew all the answers ahead of time, the writing would be fairly boring. I write to discover what I didn't know at the time the events happened.

BDB: Some of the best memoirs take place over a short period of time. Others take place over decades. But how do you know if you have a story worthy of memoir?

SWS: Any story -- about absolutely anything -- is worthy of a memoir. You can write about fairly traumatic events, as I've done. You can write about growing up on a farm, or living in a foreign culture. If you, yourself, find the material urgent, then the reader will find it to be urgent as well. Don't just write about something because it happened to you. Write because you must understand what it means.

And, yes, a memoir can reflect one month in your life or several decades. The key is that the memoir be thematically unified, regardless of the time frame. A memoir isn't a whole life; it's a slice of a life.

BDB: Are there stylistic glitches new memoirists commit?

SWS: Basically, it's important to understand that memoir is a major genre. So develop your writing skills and learn the craft just as you would for poetry or fiction.

BDB: What about writers who are afraid of hurting someone close to them? Do you recommend allowing that person to vet the manuscript?

SWS: I devote almost a whole chapter to this question in Fearless Confessions!

This is such a personal decision -- no one answer fits all. So first, I'd say, it's important to discover your own comfort level when it comes time to reveal secrets. That said, for me, personally, I would never ask anyone to vet my essay or memoir, give me permission, as it were. I mean, of course I feel bad if I hurt someone's feelings. But ultimately I'm going to tell my story anyway. I own my life -- we all do -- so as writers the stories are ours to tell. That said, I never write from a place of revenge. Plus, the focus in memoir is always on me, the author -- even as, of course, spouses, siblings, parents, and friends sometimes play a role. That can't be avoided. As for friends, I do what I can to disguise them by changing names or professions. But, when all is said and done, I simply have to write my stories.

The memoirist James McBride says that "fear is a killer of good literature." I might add that if we don't tell our stories, then we stay stuck in that dark silence which, to me, is far scarier than taking the risk and telling my stories.

BDB: Do you feel it's fine to tell stories in nonlinear ways?

SWS: Absolutely. One of the keys to writing a memoir is discovering what structure best fits the story you need to tell. By the way, I have a long creative nonfiction reading list in an Appendix in Fearless Confessions, featuring books written using many different styles and structures.

BDB: I notice many memoirs begin with an introduction with the author in the present, as he/she is now, and then the book starts in the past, often leading up to the present. Good form?

SWS: It can be. That's the structure of Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You. On the other hand, Love Sick is a fairly straightforward chronological structure following the 28 days I spent in a rehab unit. Within this structure, however, are flashbacks, just as a novel might have, which show me in an earlier time, when I was acting out with men in the sexual addiction.

BDB: How important is plot in the memoir, or story arc?

SWS: Very important! Each memoir really has two plots or arcs. What I call a "horizontal" plot follows the narrative of the events, the action, more or less as in a novel. The "vertical" plot, on the other hand, follows an emotional journey, a more interior plot. It shows how you change, emotionally, over the course of the memoir.

Both plots are important and work in conjunction with each other. Basically, the persona you are at the end of your memoir will be different from who you were at the beginning. Memoir is journey. Things happen; you change. This is the arc.

BDB: And should you know where you're headed?

SWS: Physically, yes. Emotionally and spiritually, no; or, at least not completely. The act of writing is the act of comprehension. The energy released by discovering the full range of implications that our actions set in motion is terrifying and enlightening -- which is why we try to understand them through language.

More on Sue Silverman at www.suewilliamsilverman.com

Barbara DeMarco-Barrett is editor of The ASJA Monthly and author of the award-winning best-seller, Pen on Fire (Harcourt, 2004). She hosts Writers on Writing on KUCI-FM, which you can now access on your iPhone and which podcasts at http://penonfire.blogspot.com