MJW: Looking back through the bonuses recently to see what pieces I’d already used, I was struck by how fucking ‘me me me’ everything I write is. Jfc, I’m self-obsessed. (I also was surprised to see how many posts from 2020 I have zero recollection of writing. That’s… not good.)
Don’t forget: you can’t spell ‘memoir’ without me me me me. I write about myself for so many reasons: I have lots of stories, lots of feelings. I hate hot takes, and I often don’t feel like I’m smart enough for deep analysis. It takes me too long a time and lots of reading, writing and editing to distill my opinions down to their ideal form.
I write about myself because I hate writing the universal ‘we’. I can’t speak for anyone else. I do not like to make sweeping statements about the things that ‘we’ do, or that ‘we’ know. All I know for certain is what I think and feel and like and hate. And even then, I’m still not 100%.
I haven’t really been able to write fiction these past couple of years but after reading Tilly Lawless’ Nothing but my body, I thought I’d try writing some auto fiction, taking inspiration from life. I’ve made some illustrations for it because I’m taking a graphic narrative workshop and submitted this piece last month.
