The Foreign Service Journal, November 2022

58 NOVEMBER 2022 | THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL When You Write: Crafting Your Story That’s when the heavy lifting began. I needed to understand exactly what I was writing about. The word “memoir” is derived from 15th-century Anglo-French, meaning “something written to be kept in mind.” The teacher in my 2013 memoir writing course cautioned me not to write a Fodor’s-like account of my life or do a copy and paste of my journals and letters home. She suggested that I take that raw material, and my earlier draft, and turn it into a compelling story using the voice of who I was then. The story had to have a protagonist (me); an arc that lays out the path for the story to follow that knits me, other people, and events together; a conflict; and a dénouement. If this sounds like writing a three-act play in the first person, then you get the picture. But that was only the start of how to think through the memoir’s framework. Decisions about structure, characters, and interpretation were essential before I could go any further. Organization and timeline were among the most difficult narrative elements. I decided early on that the memoir would not have a chronological flow, and instead start in the present day and then loop back to February 2011 with the critical dis- covery of my letters home (aerogrammes in those days) hidden in my mother’s house. These letters provided the connective tissue linking my memories to my journals. I then chronicled my arrival in Delhi on temporary duty in July 2011 that had sent me into a time warp, back to my days living in Bangalore in 1969. I used that moment of overwhelming nostalgia to describe how it energized the writing process. From there, I took the reader to the day of departure for India, Aug. 24, 1969, and let the story unfold. As I was creating the book’s structure, I also began to develop the main character: me. Here, the challenge was to make my character relatable, authentic, and credible. I wanted the reader to identify with my character to the extent that any- one following my life during those eight months in India could imagine having the same experience. If the reader could say, “Yes, I can see that,” or if friends and colleagues who have lived in South Asia could say, “Oh gosh, I remember feeling the same way,” I knew the sweet spot had been hit. Authenticity is critical; then the people, places, and events in the book live in the moment. To achieve that, the facts have to be accurate and correct, especially place names and descrip- tions of streets, markets, weather, ceremonies, and cities. This required considerable research to ensure my memories had not distorted the facts. When in doubt, I reached out to others who were there at the same time to verify details. One chal- lenge to being a credible narrator was how I chose to describe the experiences and behaviors of other people with whom I shared experiences. While I described the reactions of others in the moment, I avoided trying to interpret their feelings or imprint mine on them. Then, there is the act of writing, which everyone will approach differently. I learned that composing in haste and falling in love with the initial draft is unwise, because a memoir can easily turn into a college term paper. Avoiding that may require drawing on materials beyond one’s diaries, journals, and letters. One of my main sources of inspiration was a trove of almost 1,000 Ektachrome slides. As I perused their fading and mildewed images, Paul Simon’s song “Kodachrome” rang in my ears; these pictures helped me bring the reader into my world by creating visual reflections of the sights, sounds, and smells of every waking moment of every day in South India. They helped my narrative describe how the surroundings there profoundly influenced my daily life. I remembered the mantra repeated constantly in my memoir writing course: “Your memoir isn’t just about you; it’s also about where you are.” Finally, constructing the actual story provided its own unique challenges during the writing process. The arc of my story was twofold: how my eyes were opened by the energy, poverty, culture, and rhythm of India; and how that experience inspired a career of service with USAID. There were moments of humor borne of improbable encounters, and moments of anger, frustration, and tearful sadness—all of which came together for a coming-of-age story. It had been the most con- sequential year of my young adult life. The focus and trajectory changed in subtle, unpredictable ways as the story unfolded, surprising me as I continued to write. I kept asking myself, Will I succeed in telling this story in such a way that the reader will identify with it? Making your personal journey accessible to a reader is the real metric of success. Achieving that objective carries its own surprises, and you will be amazed, as I was, at what people take away from their reading. It may be far differ- ent from what you expect. After You Write: Getting Published Of course, there are the publishing and marketing steps to consider. Rarely does a first-time author start with a contract and advance from an established publisher. There are other options for publishing short of that. In my case, I contacted a friend who had experience with a vanity publisher. A vanity publisher handles editing, publish-