“Mnemosyne, one must admit, has shown herself to be a very careless girl.” Vladimir Nabokov
How many times have you criticized yourself for forgetting something?
For me, it was the theme of my summer, as I returned to an unfinished memoir manuscript and found all the places where I would love to write more vivid scenes—if only I could remember more details, more dialogue, more everything!
I berated myself for the porousness of my memory, and even more, for not keeping an adequate journal a decade ago—the time period I’m currently writing about—to safeguard against forgetting.
On top of that, I berated myself for not doing the work in the present moment to retrieve those missing memories. After all, partial, imperfect retrieval is possible. It just takes time, effort, patience, and sometimes collaboration.
When I was done self-criticizing, I set some goals and I got down to work
- I interviewed family members who supplied fabulous incidents I’d forgotten
- I used old emails to reconstruct a diary of sorts, correcting chronology and filling in some (not all) blanks
- I realized that I didn’t need to relocate as much material as I thought, because a memoir can contain only so many moments; scene fragments can work
- I listened to podcasts and read books about memory; all of them confirmed what I already know in my heart, that our memories are faulty by nature, and there’s just no getting around that fact!
My self-flagellation turned toward curiosity—always a relief—and I now find myself enjoying my memoir project as well as my latest research about memory itself.
Here are two controversial ideas that may surprise you:
Did you know that most memory experts now believe there is no such thing as a repressed memory? This podcast, called The Memory Hole, is fascinating.
Did you know that recording a memory in any format—on social media, in a journal, or via photos—slightly diminishes the chance that the brain will recall it? I’m still agnostic about this finding; after all, a recording or document can provide some cues that can be elaborated upon later. But I also get the point. Documentation can give our brains advance permission to forget!
And here’s a less controversial, widely embraced idea, promulgated by the “New Science of Forgetting”—forgetting is good for us!
As Scott Small, author of The Benefits of Not Remembering says in this interview:
The importance of forgetting is a relatively new concept for science. Until about a decade ago, normal forgetting—in contrast to ‘pathological’ forgetting that occurs in disease and with aging—was seen a passive process that served no useful purpose. Then studies began to coalesce from numerous fields revealing that there are separate molecular ‘nano-machines’ within neurons—one for memory and the other for forgetting. These findings point to an active mechanism within our brain that helps us clear out unnecessary pieces of information so that we can retain the most relevant for long-term storage.
Forgetting isn’t a careless girl, Nabokov. It’s a strong woman pushing a stiff broom!
So, let’s agree that forgetting is normal, unavoidable, and even beneficial.
Yet as writers, we often want and need to reconstruct memories—even while realizing they may be faulty. What can we do?
Next month, my upcoming two-session course, Memory as Muse, will address that question in a playful, positive atmosphere. In the course, we will quickly review the latest thinking on flawed memory, then we’ll bravely sail into the seas of uncertainty using prompts to remember some things we’ve forgotten. We’ll also keep a firm hand on the tiller, reminding ourselves that memory is fallible—and that’s okay, too. We’ll discuss ways to signal uncertainty to the reader and practice giving ourself the freedom to reconstruct.
Join us, and let’s remember—and sometimes, choose to forget—together!
P.S. Ready for a writing prompt about memory? Try this.
Taking advantage of our brain’s preference for novel memories, write as many sentences as you can for 10 minutes starting with, “The first time I…” Then choose one that interests you the most and free-write about that memory for ten minutes.
Andromeda Romano-Lax is a book coach and the author of six novels, including The Deepest Lake, a suspense novel set in Guatemala. Her next books include a memoir about learning Spanish and a novel about Sylvia Plath. www.romanolax.com.