When I started to take my writing more seriously a couple decades ago, I purchased a fresh journal, and on the first pages I created a list of “Story Ideas.” Although I was trying to write fiction at the time, I’d been told I should “write what I know,” so I guess that’s why the ideas I jotted down were all true stories from my actual life (e.g. “placing second in the Rubik’s Cube contest” or “getting kicked out of theatre school”).
I recently stumbled on this list in my old journal while doing research for my memoir, and it made me smile for several reasons:
It was incontrovertible proof that I’d been wanting to write creative nonfiction all along!
I had used a golden-inked pen, rendering the list regal and impressive but also damn-near illegible.
I had written the numbers 1 through 150 (!) down the side of the pages before beginning. What a bold number of stories for a young-ish woman to guesstimate she might possess!
I had actually made it to 106!
I was also interested to discover that I had already included at least forty of these storied moments in my draft memoir. Apparently the stories that preoccupy us early in life tend to stick around over time, even if we change from someone who brazenly wields a gold sparkly pen into someone who prefers the reliable precision of a black Stabilo 0.4 mm Fineliner.
I also noticed that the experiences in my list fell into a few main categories. They were funny or tragic, and often both. They included moments of synchronicity, or moments of big change, or moments when real life became stranger than fiction.
Maybe you’d like to create your own list of “Story Ideas”? If so, then I recommend you grab a golden-inked pen—or any other writing implement with a bit of extra gas in the tank; one that’s not shy about spilling some ink. Start with a story from childhood and end with one that happened this year. Include the big moments when something major changed and also the smaller moments when something especially funny or strange happened. Think about the stories you tell at parties, or when you’re getting to know a new person and trying to help them to understand you better. Maybe you’ll shoot for 150 stories? Because why not? We’re all rich in stories. Our lives are made of the stuff.
This year, The Malahat Review’s Constance Rooke CNF Prize is being judged by Gloria Blizzard. Submit an essay of up to 4000 words before Aug 1 here.
The Deep End (an anthology of swimming-based essays to be published by Book*hug) is accepting pitches or completed essays until Aug 30. More details here.
The Federation of BC Writers runs an annual contest open to all Canadian residents. CNF of up to 1500 words can be submitted here. Deadline Aug 30.
Me, myself, and friends
Writing can feel like a solitary activity, so it’s important to remember that you are not doing this work alone. Many others are at their desks right now, writing their true stories. One of these people is this month’s highlighted writer, Nancy O’Rourke. You can get to know Nancy and her work via the answers she shared with me here:
Nancy, what’s important to you about writing true stories?
In writing creative nonfiction, we are called to speak the truth. We are also summoned to be creative, which means that, like fiction, we need to dramatize our characters, bring sensory details to our scenes, and carefully develop moments of intrigue and suspense. But what’s especially important to me about writing true stories is to pay attention to and elucidate the metanarratives—the message(s) underlying the proposed theme. The messages that hit us deep below the surface, bringing shivers to the spine. Such narratives are often more implied than written, or are spoken very simply, almost in passing. They encourage understanding at a more profound level, showing us what it means to be human. As a writer, such messages come to me less often than I’d like and almost always without warning. Still, they’re a welcome surprise, and I hope this is the case for the reader as well. My overall sense is that these more profound moments in writing come when we allow ourselves to be our most vulnerable, and speak a truth that stretches beyond what our mind (or ego) might tell us. Almost like an intuition, a whispered message.
What’s important to you about reading true stories? Who are you reading right now?
The same as mentioned in the previous question, actually. It is important to me, when reading true stories, that the narrative encourages contemplation and recognition of a truth previously not understood, or at least not entirely resolved. A recent read, Unearthing, by Kyo Maclear, is one such book. One of the first passages that stood out for me was Maclear reflecting on a conversation with her family, concerning the death of her father: “When one person leaves, the old order collapses. That’s why we were speaking to each other carefully. We were a shapeshifting family, in the midst of recomposing ourselves. What is grief, if not the act of persisting and reconstituting oneself? What is its difficulty, if not the pressure to appear, once more, fully formed?” I don’t think I’d ever thought about grief in this way—"the act of persisting and reconstituting oneself”—but in reading these lines, I experienced an inner and more profound appreciation of what this sorrowful emotion involves.
At present, I'm reading two books. I'm reading Mary Oliver’s Upstream, a gorgeous collection of essays about nature, reading, poetry, and favourite authors. The book appeals to me for its meditative quality, a break from the busyness of life. Another book I’m currently engaged with is Healing by Sister Dang Nghiem, a Buddhist nun. A memoir, the book delves into her life as a young child in Vietnam, and the suffering she endured. But more importantly, Healing is about the joy she discovered through examining her life from the perspective and experience of Buddhist teachings and mindfulness practices.
Anything you'd like to tell us about the piece you're going to share?
“Arrival” is one of the first essays I wrote when I began creative writing several years ago—so it’s been through several revisions. The narrative focuses on the first time I visited the African continent, in 1984, having accepted a post to teach English at a secondary school in the highlands of western Kenya. Written in short vignettes, my intention was to show the process of enculturation, of how a foreigner reacts to the strangeness of a new place and then gradually, almost imperceptibly begins to settle in. My hope was also to illustrate a learning process, of coming to understand that other ways of life can teach us something about ourselves and enhance the quality of our day-to-day experience. Essentially, it is an essay about learning how to slow down and breathe, to let go of what we think we know, to create space for acceptance of an alternative knowledge and way of life.
Based in Tiohtià:ke/Montréal, Canada, Nancy O’Rourke is a writer of essays, memoirs, and poetry. With a PhD in sociology, specializing in human rights and social justice, she has written widely on issues affecting the rights of women and children. Her story “Descent into Darkness,” won the 2018 Creative Nonfiction Collective award and, in 2024, she won the Dreamers Creative Writing award for her essay “Arrival.” Her writing has been shortlisted in additional literary contests, and appears in Prairie Fire, carte blanche, and Dreamers, among other publications. In her free time, Nancy paints—sometimes portraits of the characters she writes about.
Interested in being featured in a future issue?Contact me with links to online creative nonfiction work to be considered.
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Thanks for highlighting Nancy 's work. She writes beautifully and takes you with her on the personal experiences.
After reading Arrival and getting a sense of the compassion of an African community, I read Descent Into Darkness which made that story of the genocide in Rwanda even more haunting.
1. The regal and impressiveness of a golden-inked pen.
2. “It is important to me, when reading true stories, that the narrative encourages contemplation and recognition of a truth previously not understood, or at least not entirely resolved.”
Thanks for highlighting Nancy 's work. She writes beautifully and takes you with her on the personal experiences.
After reading Arrival and getting a sense of the compassion of an African community, I read Descent Into Darkness which made that story of the genocide in Rwanda even more haunting.
My two favourite pieces of this post:
1. The regal and impressiveness of a golden-inked pen.
2. “It is important to me, when reading true stories, that the narrative encourages contemplation and recognition of a truth previously not understood, or at least not entirely resolved.”