Skip a Page: When Memories Resist Conventional Narrative

Writing a Memoir is a Journey through Memory and Meaning

Memoir is an act of gathering fragments of our lives and piecing them together in prose. Yet, in our effort to capture life’s truth, we may find that not every memory fits neatly onto the page. Sometimes, we need to 'skip a page' when certain memories speak a language that calls for a new form; they emerge as fiction, poetry, or drama. Skipping a page then allows the memories to breathe into a form beyond the personal essay.

When We Skip a Page to Resort to Fiction

Some of our stories require embellishment, not to distort the truth, but to reach a deeper sense of reality. Sometimes, facts carry elements too complex or unresolved. Fiction, with its freedom to shape and shift, can capture this nuance and complexity. Here, in writing, we skip a page: instead of forcing a memory into the confines of fact-telling, we turn it into a short story, preserving the feeling more than the particulars.

For example, a childhood memory might come with gaps—people and events only half-remembered. These gaps might distract us while writing the memoir, causing us to detour from the truth. But in fiction, these very gaps become fertile ground for writing. A character might emerge, molded from our observations of real people; a setting can take shape, blending atmosphere and context from the times we lived. Fiction can reveal the core of a memory, bringing out a no less honest version of the truth. We can say what cannot be said in memoir form alone, giving us a fuller view of the essence of our memory.

Skip a Page When Poetry Will Say It Best

There are moments that can only be expressed through poetry. A poem can hold emotion in a brief, lyrical way. Poetry distills memories into images, feelings, or rhythms, capturing the passion and intensity of profound loss or joy, a flash of insight or despair. Memory, in fact, doesn’t need explanation—it persists as feeling, raw and undiluted. In prose, we may need to elaborate and contextualize, but in a poem, we allow the memory to be itself. We skip a page to let a memory sing.

When Our Memoir Skips Onto Drama

Drama, with its dialogue, stage directions, and anticipation of a live audience, can bring memories to life. Some memories need a monologue filled with tension that belongs not on the page of a memoir but on the stage of a play. We skip a page when a memory demands to be spoken, to be acted out rather than narrated. For instance, a family argument written as a play allows every voice to take their part, creating a fuller sense of the moment. Writing these interactions as a play deepens the nuance of relationships, revealing dynamics not easily achievable in a first-person narrative. Sometimes, to be fully understood, a memory must be dramatized—skip the memoir page for real-time interaction.

Skip a Page to a New Life in Form

As memories reveal their own shape demanding a form, we skip a page—respecting the memory’s needs, whether it wishes to be fiction, poetry, drama, or something entirely new. Some memories resist closure, wanting to live on and expand beyond the memoir, growing into another book. This might stem from memories coming to us in flashes, fragments, and impressions. Resorting to a form beyond memoir is somehow mirroring memory's natural fragmentation, in creating something that feels authentic to the experience of remembering. We celebrate memory’s unpredictability. Indeed, some memories are too big, too unwieldy, too mysterious to be contained within a memoir. Fiction, poetry, and drama become ways of holding onto and honoring our past.

To skip a page is to trust the individuality of each experience, shaping our memories in fluid forms most apt to display authenticity. Memories live across forms and genres, a raw source of human passions. Each page in writing a memoir holds the potential for another life.

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