A Memoir Is a Turkey

November 26, 2020 § 14 Comments


Your memoir is a turkey. The surprisingly beautiful plumage, the majestic strut, the delicious meat beneath the feathers, the hidden goodness all the way down to the bones.

So often, to get to that goodness, we need an axe. As with turkeys, memoirs often call for dismemberment of the past, careful plucking, and a great deal of dressing to present the important parts for the feast. Garnishes. Good china. All so your friends can gasp in admiration (via Zoom, this year!) and your mother can suggest you should have used more salt. Or less salt. Or at least left out Cousin Sue.

Our holidays this year take extra effort for community. Effort, perhaps, saved from shopping, cooking, cleaning, traveling, and the forced gaiety of a table full of kin instead of family-of-choice. This year, anyone you’re seeing, you’re seeing on purpose.

We see you. We share this rough year, and we’re glad you’re our community. Glad you read, glad you write, glad you share your words with us, and Brevity’s words with your friends.

Thank you for contributing to our mission with your talent, your attention, your money and your time.

And always, thank you for writing, for reading, and being part of the creative nonfiction and memoir world. We’re here for you. Thank you for being here with us.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Brevity

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§ 14 Responses to A Memoir Is a Turkey

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