The Opposite Shore
As opinions from Beta readers trickle in, I find the fragile satisfaction I felt over my completed manuscript shaken. It was (only!) a few short weeks ago I read through the manuscript and told myself that this is it, the final edit. The story seemed to flow, be cohesive, and interesting to read. I felt pleased with my writing style and the narrator’s voice, one I had worked so hard to find for this personal and emotional story. Inherently a private person, it was a struggle. Every time I sat down in front of my computer I had to again find the voice and coax it into spending time with me. It was the voice brave enough to tell the story of a shared life journey between my aunt and myself: of discovering who our fathers are in order to know who we are. After all, it was my aunt’s revelation that provided the catalyst for my own journey of discovery. I cannot tell my story and not tell hers.
Her story is powerful in itself, but instead of turning this book into another one about Hitler and his craziness, I want to write a book that will become a legacy of love for our German family. So I have to find balance between truth, speculation, introspection, and historical facts. Here is where my narrator runs aground a few times. The voice gets distant and near, distant again, then painfully near before fading into the background once again. A voice that shares, then withdraws. This won’t work with memoir.
As the narrator, I have a roll to fill. The late (and great) Ursula K. Le Guin offers a story in her book on writing, Steering the Craft, that uses the analogy of a boat. Here’s my take on it: our readers climb into a boat with us to journey to the opposite shore. It’s up to us to make sure the boat is sturdy, the skies clear, the journey enjoyable/ thrilling/ enlightening, and when they reach the opposite shore they climb out satisfied with the ride. In other words, the reader can’t be run up on unforeseen rocks, or, heavens forbid, the boat falls apart leaving him to swim back to shore wet and unhappy.
I see the role as one of connection, but also one of guiding. We’ve invited the reader into our thoughts and owe it to him to be a good host on the journey he is taking with us. He must trust us. I’m not quite there yet, with my boat. It has a few knot holes that need filling, the gunwale needs to have splinters sanded and smoothed, and the seats need shoring. And I best have my maps in order, so we all know where we’re going.
