Oh, goodness. Where to start? Since Thursday evening, January 2, I have participated in a women’s creative writing workshop retreat in the Oaxaca village of Teotitlan del Valle. I have produced this workshop (or something like it) for the past fourteen years (minus the last two, when we took a break). We end on Wednesday morning, January 8, and I find myself digging deeper because I’m thinking about writing a memoir.
This could be considered a daunting task, but I am learning that this type of writing can come in chunks and snippets and does not need to be complete. It can be a series of essays that string together in a related and meaningful way — or not. Randomness is something I try to embrace. Maybe it’s because my brain works that way.
Our writing instructor, Marcia Meier, says that writing a memoir is more about taking things out than putting things in. She also emphasizes that most of us have several memoirs in us. You can write as many memoirs as you have had different experiences.
Different from an autobiography, which is a factual accounting, usually from birth to the time of writing and encompassing events, relationships, achievements, and challenges, a memoir focuses on specific themes, emotions, and reflections. This is a more personal and introspective approach to writing. A short memoir can be several hundred words, pages, or more. It doesn’t have to be 50-100,000 words! The key is to focus on telling a compelling and cohesive story, regardless of length.
Marcia has had over 10 books published, plus many essays, and creative works. She ran a California writer’s conference and literary press. She was a journalist, university professor, editor, teacher, and coach. Her memoir, Face, took her fifteen years to write, edit, and submit for publication. This must have been a daunting task and an inspiration for each of us. This book won the New Mexico-Arizona Book Award.
Each day, Marcia gives us writing exercises for inspiration. She reads us poetry, prose, memoirs, and fiction by familiar writers or some we have never heard of. She gives us challenges: identify an inanimate object and have it speak to you about who you are and where you live. She asks us to list our fears about our writing and anyone connected to it. What would they say or think if they read this? She gives us colored pencils and paper and instructs us to draw our dreams. She opens a box of play dough and asks us to shape something meaningful. These exercises open us up to the writing process, freeing us from constraints.
We dig deep into memoirs, creative non-fiction, and personal essays. Our participants range from novice to experienced. This year, women have come from Sydney, Australia, Oaxaca, California, Arizona, and New Mexico, to write.
We are now on day five with one more to go. This is a small, intimate group. We read what we have written to each other, giving supportive feedback. No one is critical. We are all in this together.
What participants say about Marcia Meier.
Open, gracious, and encouraging
Supportive, gentle, calm
Detailed, positive, organized
Welcoming, knowledgeable, informative
Inspiring, insightful, humorous
Expressive, honest, real
One participant says: She pulls out what we didn’t know was there. She has given me the tools and confidence to write about what makes me happy and sad. She is warm and a great instructor. Her teaching is empowering and transformative, and her style is both nurturing and stimulating.
We will consider offering this workshop in 2026 for six or seven days in Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca. If you are interested in knowing more, please send me an email. We will put you on an interested list and notify you when we have more details.
Covid Diaries: A Lazy Writer’s Notebook
This is a test. To see if you are interested in reading and, if you wish, contributing to a blog journal/personal essays about life and experiences living through Covid Times. A chronicle, so to speak. It’s something I’m thinking of doing now. Probably not here, but in a new blog.
It’s the end of August. We have been at this for months. Five months. I know what I’ve been doing. Hiding. Searching out isopropyl alcohol. Fighting boredom and isolation. Sewing masks. Canceling tours. Trying to find meaning and purpose in the hours between waking up and going to sleep.
I’ve thought about writing in the last months but haven’t. What is there fresh to say? We are all doing our best to cope. Some of us have children or grandchildren at home. Some of us are out of work. Some of us have lost loved ones, family and friends to this virus. Some of us live alone. Some of us are just fine, just maybe.
Some of us have gained weight. Don’t sleep. Feel helpless. Others are finding purpose and beauty in butterflies and roses, a fresh air picnic under blue skies, growing a garden and harvesting its bounty. Yes, even a Zoom call with sister or son. Who knows the next time you will see them?
I’ve made the transition from being angry at everyone who goes mask-less and walks too close, to accepting that the only behavior I can change is mine. I walk. Sometimes I walk miles. It’s a great stress reliever. And, I encounter people on the city streets where I live. I make a wide detour as they come my way. Put my mask up.
I’m settling into this, but it still feels unsettling. And, it feels like its finally time to write about it.
What do you think? Do you want to talk about this? How are you doing? If we write it, will you read it?
Since I’m not in Oaxaca now, I don’t have that much to write about life there, so this Oaxaca Cultural Navigator blog has been short on content in the last few months.
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Posted in Oaxaca Mexico art and culture
Tagged chronicles, commentary, coronavirus, COVID-19, creative non-fiction, creative writing, diary, journal, personal essay, report