Discovering the Why of Your Essay Collection

by Patrice Gopo

In the early days of the pandemic, words fell from my fingers, returning to me after a time of absence. Several years before, in the aftermath of the publication of my first book of essays, I had found myself unable to create. How strange that this time of lockdown existed side by side with my emergence from a creative wilderness.

I didn’t ponder this oddity, though. Instead, I wrote and wrote and wrote. And later as the headlines filled with George Floyd’s murder and the ensuing protests for racial justice, I continued to write. Observations became ideas. Ideas transformed into fledgling essays. Fledgling essays found completion.

By the autumn of 2020, I was ready to return to a place I’d been before: the place of organizing a collection. The wonder of what I might discover in this process. The excitement at the possibility of a new book. I believed this group of essays—a combination of new and old work—belonged together. But I knew I needed to find the reason why these essays should be a book. What golden thread might connect these distinct pieces? Or said another way, what was the beating heart of this collected work?

What I knew to be true is that the foggy dream of this second book of essays would not find completion without knowing this reason why. This reason could serve as my guide, creating needed borders, boundaries, and constraints for this book possibility. This reason could help me make sense of order and structure. This reason could yield answers to other practical, logistical questions that might arise.

With my first book of essays, I formulated a process for turning this abstract notion of “connectedness” into a concrete summary statement, an explanation of the why. Along the way, I recognized that to organize a book of personal essays is to search for—and ultimately find—a deeper knowing about yourself, the world around you, your own work. Writing an essay is a journey toward discovery. As it turns out, organizing an essay collection can be a journey toward discovery as well.

With my second book of essays, I was prepared to embark on this journey of discovery. Perhaps that concrete statement might readily appear for some. For me, though, finding this summary statement required that I first examine my material from different angles, considering the themes I knew existed in my writing and finding the themes hidden within the words. As a once-upon-a-time engineer transformed into a writer, I had previously created a methodical system for dissecting the themes of my essays, naming each theme and tracking which themes were universal across all the work. Imagine, for a moment, a Venn Diagram. The space of overlap might just offer the possibility of finding the reason a group of essays belongs in one book.

So, amid that first pandemic autumn, I proceeded down a somewhat technical path when set alongside words like “journey” and “discovery.” I created spreadsheets. I used formulas. I wrote specific items on index cards and shifted them around as I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor. There was precision in how I worked as I tapped into portions of my brain that appreciate definitive answers. I asked myself what is the why of this new collection. Finding the answer involved a literary sleuthing that brought joy.

As with my first book of essays, I utilized resources found right here at Brevity: Rebecca McClanahan’s wonderful craft essay, Forest in the Trees: The Challenges of Shaping a Book (not a Collection) of Essays*; and Allison K Williams’ helpful blog essay, In a World…

Resources won’t necessarily solve a situation, but they can point you in a good, solid direction. Sometimes that might be all you need.

Of course, there are many ways you can determine the reason for an essay collection’s existence. Similarly, there are many methods you can use to organize a book of your collected writing. What mattered is I had a system that worked for me. I think that’s what matters for any person choosing to engage with the act of organizing a collection, finding a system that works for you.

By January 2021, as life continued to feel bloated with illness and suffering, and the intense public conversation about addressing racial injustice had predictably moved from shout to whisper, I emerged with a new manuscript. Even more, I emerged with the reason for this collection’s existence. Autumn Song, I titled this work, followed by the subtitle, Essays on Absence. Within the pages, these essays together, ordered in a particular sequence, told a story. A story much greater than what I could have imagined.

* Rebecca McClanahan makes a beautiful distinction between a book of essays and a collection of essays. While I agree with what she shares, I still find that I use “book of essays” and “essay collection” interchangeably.

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For practical tools and ideas to help you transform a group of essays into a book, join Patrice’s upcoming CRAFT TALKS webinar: Greater Than the Sum of the Parts: Transforming Personal Essays into a Book. Find out more/register now.

Patrice Gopo is an award-winning essayist who writes stories steeped in themes of place, belonging, and home. She is the author of two essay collections: the newly released Autumn Song: Essays on Absence (University of Nebraska Press American Lives Series) and All the Colors We Will See (a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers selection). Her debut picture book is All the Places We Call Home.

A different version of this essay originally appeared in Litmosphere—the Charlotte Center for the Literary Arts blog.