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Writing Tips from a High School Dropout

4/30/2016

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“If I can do it, so can you.” How often have you heard or read those words? And how often have you thought, “Yeah, right”? 

But wait. When I make that statement, it's actually true. Hear me out.

Before I wrote my memoir, I had no experience writing anything. I never finished high school. And with all the surgeries I had to repair my face, I missed a lot of education along the way. The only thing I remember is receiving three stars on a paper I wrote in the third grade. That was a long time ago.

After years of my friends telling me I had a great story (I’m not the first or last to hear that one), I decided not to procrastinate any longer. I sat at my kitchen table with a cup of coffee, which, over the years, would be bottomless cups. Grabbing a pen and spiral notebook, I was ready to write, but I didn’t know how to begin. 

It was just me against the paper. At first the paper knocked me down, but as I continued to show up and write, I got a few good jabs in because at least I climbed into the ring.

KEEP YOUR HAND MOVING
I knew I needed help—and over the years I got plenty of it. What stands out for me is Natalie Goldberg’s workshop in Taos. In her “Rules for Writing Practice,” she encourages  writers to write continuously on paper for a designated time with no regard for grammar, punctuation, or spelling. Keep your hand moving and ignore your inner critic.

I started filling my red Dollar Store spiral notebooks with just my thoughts in the moment. After a few days I had filled one section with ideas that had no cohesion. But I felt the satisfaction of having something on paper. 

After a few weeks, the notes became sentences, which turned into paragraphs that lacked order or structure. It was a mish-mash of my thought process. Then I decided to transfer everything to my computer, but to my horror, I accidentally deleted the files. 

So I returned to my trusty pen and notebook. At least I wouldn’t lose all my work unless I had a house fire or my Rottweiler chewed it up. Fortunately neither of those happened. 

As I progressed with my project, I found that writing by hand had an organic flow to it. I could cross things out, write in the margins, draw arrows from one line to another, which helped me restructure the paragraphs. 

THE BOSS
Sometime later, I watched a TV interview with Bruce Springsteen. As he spoke, he showed his notebooks filled with scribbled lyrics in different colored pens—words crossed out and the margins packed with more than I had in my own work in progress. 

Springsteen said that when he writes, he looks at it and thinks, “Well, this isn’t too good.” (I’m paraphrasing here.) But he just keeps rewriting the songs, and eventually they get better. 

If this worked for the Boss, why not for me? I was a neophyte trying to teach myself. The word “rewrite” would be my constant companion.

I discovered that the harder I tried, the less progress I made. When I let myself not care about grammar, spelling, or even structure, I could write more. Then the work took on a life of its own. I wasn’t bogged down with perfecting my words or worrying about finishing. 

That’s not to say that I never got frustrated or even thought about quitting. I did. More than once, I threw my notebook across the room and walked away for a few days. Strange as it may sound, that worked. It allowed me the time to breathe and think. I knew in my heart that if I stopped, I would always regret not seeing it through. 

With the help of patient editors, I managed to turn my scribbles into a manuscript. But it all started with sitting at the kitchen table and writing those first words.

If you have a compelling life story or a novel that's been in your head for years, commit to turning into a reality. Believe me, if I can do it, so can you.

I'd love to hear about your writing process. What has and hasn't worked for you? 

“The expert in anything was once a beginner.”—HELEN HAYES

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5 Memoirs That Inspired Me to Write Mine

11/24/2015

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I’m often asked about my journey as a writer. It began about eight years ago, after I had read several successful memoirs and knew I had an equally compelling story to tell.

But as a high school dropout, I felt ill-equipped to undertake such a project. I didn't have the slightest clue how to go about it. Thanks to my friends, who for years kept encouraging me to write, I finally put pen to paper and dove in. With their support, along with the help of numerous writing coaches, workshops, and editors, I managed to finish my book.

The following five memoirs not only inspired me to write my own, but also gave me great insight into the authors’ experiences, which parallel mine in many ways. All of them are brutally candid about their struggles and triumphs and address survival, rejection, and closure—themes relevant to my story. 

​Each book, written with humor and a compelling, unique voice, stands as a testament to the enduring human spirit. 
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​Autobiography of a Face tells the story of Lucy Grealy, whose jaw is ravaged by cancer, leaving her disfigured and feeling that as a woman with society’s obsession with beauty, she will never be loved. Struggling with the cancer is difficult enough, but she also has to endure the stares and glares from others who ridicule her for something out of her control.

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Running with Scissors presents Augusten Burroughs’s journey of being rejected by his mother because of her mental illness and of going to live with his psychologist’s family, the members of which are more unstable and unconventional than those in his own. He discovers that as a homosexual teen, he must come to terms with his own proclivities while dealing with an extremely eccentric doctor. Despite his nightmarish upbringing, Burroughs manages to keep his sanity and sense of humor intact. 

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​The Glass Castle is so eloquently written, from the first moment when the author sees her mother digging through trash to her father’s alcoholism and pursuit of a get-rich scheme that never comes to pass. Jeannette Walls and her siblings display enormous resilience as their irresponsible parents schlep them from one state to another, their dysfunction increasing with every move. In time Walls musters the courage to strike out on her own and finds the family and financial stability she longs for. 

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​This Boy’s Life resonated with me, not only the amazing story of Tobias Wolff’s relationship with his loving and loyal mother, but also the time he spends with his cruel and downright nasty stepfather, whose berating and constant aggression makes his life intolerable. Wolff finagles his way into Hill School by creating a transcript of bogus academic and sporting accomplishments. He lasts a little over two years. Similarly, I became a student at a prestigious prep school, placed there by the state of New Jersey, not for my academic achievements, but for my need for structure. I was also kicked out after a few years because of my poor grades. 

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A Boy Called It. Having been called Pig Face, Flat Nose, and countless other names due to my facial deformity, I empathized with David Pelzer and related to his isolation and loneliness, though I was never abused or subjected to the horrific mental and physical torture he experiences. I was inspired by his lack of censorship and his amazing inner strength and wit. Reading about his resolve as a child helped me put into perspective my own story of abandonment and the endless surgeries at the hands of a compassionless state doctor. 

Memoir Workshop

Have you dreamed about writing a memoir, but don’t know where to begin? Or did you start your memoir and are now stuck halfway through? Or have you finished your memoir and need help with the revision process? 

On February 9, 2016,  writing coach/editor Trish Wilkinson and I will be presenting a three-hour workshop in San Diego to help you:

Memoir: How to Write a Salable Personal Story and Enjoy the Process

We will provide the tools and techniques you need to boost your creativity and turn your personal story into a compelling read.

If you’re in the San Diego area, please join us.

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Making It Work as a Stepdad

6/20/2015

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Stepfamilies
Creating a happy blended family is tough. Current statistics estimate that 65% of all remarriages form blended families, and 70% of those end in dissolution. I’ve heard people refer to a blended family as “taking on someone else’s problems.” I even know families who don’t blend but keep their lives separate: one family of the mother with her children or the father with his children and another family as husband and wife.

Making it work as a stepfather is a wish I have for all men in a blended family. Children can never have too many people who love them, and the stepfather who opens his heart to the importance of his role in their lives is truly blessed.

When I turned 50, I experienced two miracles. The first was my marriage. As you’ll read in my memoir, Running from the Mirror, I was abandoned by my birth parents as an infant after contracting a virus that destroyed my face. Innumerable surgeries gave me a tolerable appearance, but I didn’t feel good enough to attract the right woman to share my life with. It never occurred to me that she would be beautiful and caring and love me for who I am.  

The second miracle was that my wife came with the family I had longed for. I knew that if I’d ever have the chance to be a parent, I would give my children all the love I could and never abandon them. What I have learned by helping raise my wife’s twin daughters is that parenting is not a one-way street. I am in a relationship with them that provides more love than I could ever have imagined.

My stepdaughters already have a father. My experiences of abandonment and rejection throughout my life could have made me vulnerable to jealousy and possessiveness. It's natural to want to pull back to avoid those negative emotions. The problem is that many stepfathers pull back too far. Or like Will Ferrell’s character in Daddy’s Home, stepdads go to crazy extremes to win over their stepchildren.

Many men don’t understand a child’s capacity for love. That your stepchildren have a “real” father doesn’t remove their need to look to you for guidance and caring. If you accept your role, you may, as I have, hear your stepchildren say something like, “Howard, you are the best stepdad in the world.” I don’t need to be called “Dad.” My stepchildren have had the clarity to give me a place in their lives that I can fulfill without holding anything back.

It is healing for me to watch my wife shower her daughters with love. We all have inner wounds from our childhood. Mine happen to be extreme, having spent the first three years of my life confined to a cage-like crib in a sterile hospital environment. I love to see the girls cuddle up with my wife in their soft cotton pajamas covered with teddy bears and pink balloons. Their love is like nourishment. I don’t have to hold on to my painful memories of surgeries, IV needles, and loneliness. 

Yes, it can be difficult to live the day-to-day challenges of a blended family, but I encourage stepfathers to focus on the positive experiences. I take such pleasure in making breakfast for my stepdaughters. Their favorite: fresh blueberry pancakes. I watch with delight as they devour each bite, their laughter and smiles filling our kitchen with love. This helps replace my childhood pain with joy. But I appreciate their perspective as well. We are a different kind of family but we are as real as any. We respect and learn from each other.  

Here is my advice for this Father’s Day: Stepdads, treasure your children, even if they are not your own by birth. My foster parents gave me what I needed to survive and to have hope that I, too, could someday receive the love I had to give. Children are precious. I try not to take anything for granted because I know what it is like not to have them. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Men and women differ in child rearing, so work it out with your wife and stay in the game. 

To connect with your stepchildren, remember that it's all about the simple things. We go to the humane society to play with the abandoned kittens. We watch endless movies, sharing buttery popcorn. And we always say we love each other because that is the most precious thing of all. At least for me, where I came from is less important than where I am now.

6 Comments

Self-Acceptance

5/25/2015

1 Comment

 
Years have passed, but I will never forget the painful ostracism and loneliness that dogged me throughout my childhood. Because of my facial deformities, my ‘otherness’, and the accompanying stares, contempt, and even the horror I engendered, I understand firsthand the challenges faced by those whom society deems unacceptably flawed. 

As my empathy grew, I found I wanted to ease the pain of others who yearned for acceptance. I volunteered, first with blind students I took on field trips in my work with Lighthouse International in New York, and then at the University of New Mexico Children’s Hospital, I read to children with brain injuries and cancer. For an immigrant family, who were like family to me, I provided a stable home because I could, and later, I spent time with injured veterans who struggled with a new reality. It was the least I could do to make someone’s life brighter, my attempt to pass on what others had done for me. In the process, I discovered that helping others was the path to healing myself.

With the help of many hard-won lessons, I eventually made peace with my circumstances and was able to create a life that was not defined by my physical uniqueness. Partially because of my tenacious nature, but also because I’d had the good fortune to meet many who had risen above adversity, I knew I could find a way as well. 

The self-empowerment and the seed of hope germinated when we meet someone like ourselves, especially a person who is proof that a full and rewarding life can be lived, is immense. When I stumbled on Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face, I realized at last I had found someone who understood what I experienced. Unequivocally, I know how a life can change when we discover we are not alone.

My coming to terms with my past and finding self-acceptance is something I know anyone can relate to. After all, triumphing over adversity and arriving at self-acceptance is what we all hope for.


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