Memoir can bring you down

I’m doing a special studies MFA project on the art of memoir. I don’t see myself writing a memoir for publication but I figured it might help dredge up useful material I could use in my fiction. It also seemed like it would be a good opportunity to complain and feel sorry for myself, and it is. But when I look at what comes out, I see that alongside my grievances, I am turning up evidence that I was a shit when I was a kid. Whatever crap my parents dealt me, I passed it right on to my younger siblings. Of course this isn’t a complete surprise, but putting it in writing does seem to make my sins look bigger and my grievances smaller.

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