To tell the truth,it has never really occurred to me that I wouldn't write a memoir someday.At least not since the early 1990's when I went back to school.I had to take upgrading in reading and writing,and the keeping of a journal was required.And it came to be a habit that I've never gotten away from.Not completely.
Today I write memoir with a group of writers in central Toronto.We are a diverse,and,I find,an endlessly interesting group.People have come and gone over the years,though there is a solid core of writers who have been there since at least 2010.They are my writing family,and they inspire me greatly.Each Monday we meet and select two,and sometimes three topics,write on them for fifteen minutes in a way that relates to each of our lives.Then we share our written work. I've always referred to this as a sort of hunter gatherer activity for memoir writers.So valuable in terms of finding raw material,and in reminding me of things that I've forgotten.
Although I've had a great deal of written material gathered about me for many years now,it wasn't until 2006 that the need to record it all in memoir form took on new urgency for me.It was in February of that year that my mother was taken in a car accident,only about ten minutes from home.The hardest thing was not having had a chance to say good-bye,and I became more or less aware that nothing lasts forever,and that perhaps time was drawing shorter.Three years later my father also passed .That was difficult as well.In fact,to be honest,I've never gotten all the way past any of that.It has gotten better though.Then,not so long ago I became immediately and vividly aware of something that has shown me,it a way that will likely tear my heart out,that time is precious and cannot be taken for granted.
And so it's time to tell the story before it ends as just an idea.
