Memory and creative conversation to deepen resilience
episodic memory, creative nonfiction, and the neuroscience of remembering what matters
From memory, rewrite a conversation with someone who has been influential in your life — for better or the worse.
Alternately, write about a character who is trying to remember what someone said.
Human memory is complex, and I want to talk about it.
I want to talk about memory because it comes up a lot when one writes nonfiction, especially personal stories, and I happen to be teaching a workshop for Thurber House on memoir in a week.
“You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, Where can I put it down?”
― Anne Carson
I studied creative nonfiction (CNF) in graduate school. We learned techniques for telling emotional truths in responsible ways, by clarifying when a memory is biased or setting the stage when we fill in dialogue we only half-remember. Of course there are disclaimers and mentions of our own tendency toward human error.
I also know the way memory works because I’ve read numerous articles on neuroscience and have watched dozens of videos that re-explain how the memory works and why, at times, it doesn’t work.
As covered in the video I link above, memories can be lost through encoding errors (lack of attention), consolidation (how we store information), and retrieval (takes practice).
Despite our human tendency to be wrong, I believe that we can write responsibly with our fallible human memories, and we can use what we DO remember as endless fodder for creative material. We can also rely on memory to help us imagine.
Compelling CNF often relies on episodic memory, and this is defined as how we remember scenic events, such as conversations or pivotal events in our lives—things we deem important and resonant enough to embody. Various sensory details come into play in our episodic memory, and some of us remember with more or fewer colors, scents, tastes, textures and sounds.
How does our nervous system react to various events or ideas? When you hear the word “networking,” for instance, do you get excited or does your body contract? What about the word community? What happens when I mention your favorite food?
Digging into these reactions is revelatory, fun, and sometimes tough.
I used to have brilliant episodic memory, but lately, if I’m being honest, I have serious short-term memory problems and brain fog. It might be age/hormones/stress/diet/sleep (though I sleep like a champ)/glutamate or dopamine issues/environment issues/distraction or […] fill in the blank.
I’ve pursued all these possibilities through allopathic and alt therapies. And I still have issues (though much fewer), which I believe are exacerbated by distraction (I do too much, always have) and stress.
What helps are pauses. Prompts like what I led this blog with. Repeating information on paper or recalling it more often seems to be the best strategy to support my ability to hold information that matters.
The more we nurture our memory, the less we rely on cloudy emotions to tell our story, and the deeper with can mine our material. We don’t have to write nonfiction or get all details perfect to find that deepening our episodic memory deepens our writing. And, ironically, it helps us connect to the emotions of readers because we are inviting conversation and connection.
I always do these prompts I offer you, but usually I try them before I post. This time, I’m writing with you and contemplating conversations I thought I remembered well but don’t, and I realize this is most often because I’m not paying attention.
What might my memory be like if I slowed down a little? What opportunities did I miss by rushing? What realizations await if I just chill a little more?
Lots of questions today, but here are my thoughts.
Memory aides writing and creative output. Writing and creative output clarifies memory. And what seems to help with both is slowing down and deepening our ability to listen.
While much of the world is in a hurry to get nowhere, we are passing by moments we’ll want to remember.
Case-in-point: Where is that guy in the Bronco weaving in and out of traffic at 90 mph in a 65 going that’s so important? I highly doubt it’s to visit his grandmother in the hospital or to support the rehousing of a displaced family. Perhaps it is, but I doubt it.
This isn’t just about presence. There’s room for contemplation and potential in any moment. Our brains will never be static, but we can slow down. We can.
We can make time to read by refusing to scroll as much. We can make time to listen by planting our cellphones facedown when we’re out to dinner. We can have deep conversations on long walks, rather than just before an appointment or over text messages. We can contribute to conversations worth remembering, worth writing down five years from now, worth our precious and ephemeral time.
If you write to the prompt at the beginning of this post, please let me know how it goes.
𓂃 ོ☼𓂃
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Here’s a short meditation on exploring the moment and coming back when we feel the scattered nature of being rushed from here to there. Man in the Bronco, you can slow down. You’ll still get there. I promise.