Hi, readers of the intangibles! I’m essayist Allison Kirkland, and this publication is here to make the writing life more transparent, collaborative and community-oriented for writers of creative nonfiction and memoir. Thanks for being here!
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Dear writers and readers,
Certain times of the year are ready made reflection points and the end of the calendar year always serves as that for me, whether I'd like it to or not. As someone who writes personal essay I am no stranger to self-reflection, but during the end of the year the habit becomes almost compulsive, as I am keen to make sense and make meaning out of the year, especially when it comes to my creative life and career.
It can feel like a lot of pressure, actually. Did I do enough? What didn't I do? Did I connect with the “right” people? Am I making progress? Did I write enough? Am I making progress on my career goals?
I don't know if it's like this for you, but at the end of a year, instead of remembering all that I did well in my creative life, I tend to ruminate on the things I didn't do, the things I left on the table, the ways I could have done things differently. I see missed opportunities instead of wins. "Enough" is always some magical number just out of reach, no matter how much I accomplished.
As I was considering that this year, I thought of my time in England. Although I think books and reading are, in general, a bigger part of the day-to-day culture in the UK, during my three months there I learned that what I think of as the modern literary memoir is not a popular genre. Yes there are some beautiful and well-known memoirs by UK-based writers (H is for Hawk by Helen MacDonald and Wintering by Katherine May come to mind) but in general the genre does not get very much attention.
I remember one evening at the pub we met a new group of friends, as we often did when we went by for a Sunday roast.
"What do you do?" they asked me.
"I'm a writer and teacher, I mostly focus on memoir and personal essay."
"What a fun coincidence," one of them said, "our friend here owns a publishing company here in the UK." They pointed to him at the end of the long table. It turns out he really did own a small local publishing company! I looked his way, excited to have a conversation with him about memoir. Emboldened by the casual pub atmosphere, and in what I believe was a genuine effort to advise me, he exclaimed: "Oh sod off with your memoir nonsense. Write fiction, that's where the real artistry is."
That was not my only reality check. I looked for the memoir or nonfiction section in every bookstore that I went into, spanning from Edinburgh Scotland to Birling Gap in East Sussex. I never once saw an entire section devoted to memoir. Sometimes there would be a nonfiction section that was usually reserved for celebrity autobiography and music writing. But even those sections were very small — maybe 10-15 books total.
Toward the end of my time in Brighton I reconnected with two friends that I'd met almost twenty years ago in a post-graduate publishing program. We gabbed for hours in a gorgeous eatery that served Australian food across from the King's Cross train station.
One of them, Lisa, is an American who has lived in England for a decade and works as an editor. I was really curious to get her perspective, so I asked her about memoir.
"I am getting the sense that memoir is not as much of a thing here. Is that true?"
"Yes," she said. "People don't really read memoir much here. Sometimes you'll see nature writing as a way to talk about the personal. But that's about as far as it gets."
I felt vindicated! My observations were sound. But they were puzzling to me. And then destabilizing. And then sort of liberating. And then sort of clarifying.
In England I felt more steeped in language and beauty than I usually do in the States (Jane Austen is on their currency, for God sake), and yet, I couldn't find a memoir on the shelves anywhere I looked. For whatever reason — and I have some guesses, though none that I've quite parsed out enough to write about here — memoir is not a cultural necessity in England in the same way that it is in the United States. (And, let’s be honest, even in the United States it fights for importance — but that’s another conversation for another day.)
There was something oddly destabilizing about living in a place where an art form I've committed my career to — the writing and teaching of personal nonfiction — is barely even a blip on the radar. It made me realize that so many of my own writing and career goals are US-centric: gain admittance to a particular US writing conference. Arrange a book tour that stops at a particular American bookstore. Be awarded a certain American literary prize. Be interviewed on a certain American radio program. Connect with a certain American memoir writer.
In England, those same goals would be stripped of their meaning. The world is such a big place, and so much of what is “important” or “esteemed” is just something we’ve made up. Something that might not mean anything to someone an ocean away.
So I am ending 2024 feeling a lot less bothered about the things I didn't achieve this year. All goals are relative. All art is relative. All careers are relative. I’m reminded of why I write: not to belong to a certain group of people, not to write a certain kind of book or essay, but simply to express myself and connect.
It has been such an honor to write to all of you this year. This is my last missive of 2024. Wishing you all a joyful holiday season and a Happy New Year. See you in 2025.
Until next time,
Allison
You are reading the intangibles, by writer and creative writing instructor Allison Kirkland. This publication is geared toward writers of memoir and creative nonfiction and the people who love them.
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Here in Berlin, I've seen more celebrity memoir (musicians and famous people) than that of everyday people. Angela Merkel's memoir is everywhere right now! But it's definitely here. There's so much, though, in the literary scene that's very different. I explain Substack often. And what creative non-fiction means. The writers at my weekly Meet Up are poets, musicians, novelists, short story writers, playwrights. It's interesting!
Well, this is a sobering read -
making a mental note not to prioritize the UK when mine is released!
But in the end, you're so right –
"I’m reminded of why I write: not to belong to a certain group of people, not to write a certain kind of book or essay, but simply to express myself and connect." ❤️