We tell ourselves stories in order to live. We live. . .by the 'ideas' with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria that is our actual experience.
Joan Didion

A memoir’s theme provides the conceptual “string” that holds the work together. A solid theme (with perhaps sub-themes) helps the writer decide which characters, incidents, and scenes to include—and which to exclude. No easy task.

Janet Malcolm says this:

Each person who sits down to write faces not a blank page but his own vastly overfilled mind. The problem is to clear out most of what is in it, to fill huge plastic garbage bags with the confused jumble of things that have accreted there over the days, months, years of being alive and taking things in through the eyes and ears and heart. The goal is to make a space where a few ideas and images and feelings may be so arranged that a reader will want to linger awhile among them.

Some writers begin with a specific theme in mind. They develop an idea and then bring it to life with a narrative. For others, however, the thematic concept develops over time—after pen has been applied to pad, fingers to keyboard.

Themes can be framed in various ways. Some writers identify a “desire line”—a long-standing dream or objective—and then describe the ways in which certain values in that line clash with opposing values. This conflict can sometimes be summarized in a statement:

My desire for a rich family life seemed (or seems) to conflict with my need to develop my professional capabilities.

My desire to feel like a “true American” frequently clashed (or clashes) with racist and anti-immigrant attitudes.

Once you see the theme as a double strand running through the narrative, you will see more clearly the elements (characters, images, scenes, and dialogs) that add to the theme—and those that seem less relevant.

Some memoirists hit a writing wall. They discover too many options, too many directions in which to travel. At this point, it is helpful to look back through the writing and discover the thematic string—the line that can be stretched forward and used as a guide.

Moreover, the rules for living a good life and the rules for writing a good story seem inverted. In a good life, we generally seek to avoid conflict—or to quickly resolve it. In a good story, we seek conflict and leave it unresolved for as long as possible.

So, as you proceed with your story, you may give your thematic conflict a rest from time to time. You don’t want to resolve it too soon. You want to build it—until one side forces the other into a conflagration. This is the emotional climax. It is the synthesis of the thesis and antithesis. It is your new idea.

Once you’ve identified your theme—your string—you can usually trust it to stay in place. Once it’s established, you can then turn your attention to scenes, images, details, and dialog—and you can begin to see more clearly the blurred and unfocused parts of the story. You may also begin to see the sub-themes that are an expression of your main theme.

A clear view of your theme will help you identify the significant incidents, characters, and scenes that truly support the story.

Thornton Wilder said: “A good story is life without the bla bla.” A solid theme places a frame on the story, and the initial theme may lead to a deeper theme. Theme holds the scenes together and allows them to glow and enthrall. So, know your theme. Hang your scenes. Eliminate the bla bla. Tell the true story.

Orlo J. Otteson
651-278-4824
otteson@aol.com