Fictionalizing your life, or how autobiographical is your fiction?

SCN novelist and lifewriter Judy Alter looks back on a book she wrote three decades ago, and finds in it pieces of her autobiography.

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I’ve been proofing Mattie, the first adult novel I ever wrote and winner of the 1988 Western Writers of America Spur Award for best traditional novel. It’s been available on Kindle forever and done well at 99 centers–#64 today in Kindle ebooks, Genre Fiction, Medical. I’m going to post it to other platforms and thought after almost thirty years it deserved another proofing.

Mattie’s story is loosely based on the life of Georgia Arbuckle Fix, a pioneer woman physician in western Nebraska at the turn of the twentieth century. I didn’t know at the time that Mari Sandoz had also fictionalized Fix’s life in Miss Morissa, and the comparison by loyal Sandoz devotees was not kind to me.

It’s intimidating to re-read something I wrote all those years back. My style is different—the 167-page book is all long chapters and lots of space breaks, and did I really begin every other sentence with “So”? I’m correcting only egregious errors; why mess with success?

The content is more interesting though. I was seven or eight years out of a marriage that started wonderfully and eventually disintegrated. Mattie goes through the same experience two-thirds of the way through the novel; her once-passionate marriage is gradually chipped away until she and her husband, Em Jones, can barely stand each other. Mattie’s retrospective wisdom about the situation struck me—I didn’t realize that I had learned that much from my own marriage, but, darn, sometimes Mattie really seems to understand life. Wish I’d put that knowledge to work years ago

At the time I wrote, I was raising teen-age daughters, with all the angst that involves. The angst is reflected in Mattie’s rebellious daughter, Nora. Only Nora never reaches the wonderful reconciliation my girls did—they are now best friends with each other and with me. When I wrote, we hadn’t reached that reconciliation either, and the angst was much too familiar.

Late in the book, Mattie takes into her home and bed a drifter named Eli, skilled carpenter, a good man, but not one to settle down. I took a week off from work to write the last chapter. The words came in a rush as though someone was channeling me who knew the story. Eli simply rides off after a while, moving on as is his nature, leaving Mattie devastated again—and puzzled. At the time, I was seeing a man I liked well enough to envision a future with him—he liked my kids and wasn’t scared of them, rare in suitors. He was gentle, kind and fun. But as I wrote those last pages, I had a flash of clarity: he too would be moving on. He was no longer going to be a part of my life story. We were together that night—celebrating our joint birthdays, I recall—and I was sad. But I couldn’t tell him why.

Scary thought, especially for mystery writers, if your writing not only reflects your past but predicts your future.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, everyone.

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Judy is the author of two mystery series—Kelly O’Connell Mysteries and Blue Plate Café mysteries—plus the stand-alone, The Perfect Coed. In a long career, she has written fiction and nonfiction for adults and young adults, primarily about women in the American West, and garnered several awards. Judy retired as director of TCU Press, a position she held for 23 years. She is a member of SCN; a member of Sisters in Crime and the SinC subgroup, the Guppies; and a member of the Texas Institute of Letters and the Texas Literary Hall of fame. She edits her neighborhood newspaper and welcomes her fifth-grade grandson every school day. A single mother of four and grandmother of seven, she lives in Fort Worth with her lively Bordoodle puppy, Sophie. Visit her blog and her website.

The Power of Journaling

I started journaling during my thirties while my husband, our two sons, and I lived for nineteen months on a remote island in the South Pacific. I felt so isolated there that the best I could do was write long rants every morning before the boys woke up. Happily those rants turned into my first published article after we returned home.

I started to journal for keeps when our older son Paul was diagnosed as bipolar in 1993 and continued after his suicide in September 1999. Journaling became an obsession and a balm. It became my therapy, a daily habit. Writing through my grief totally turned my life around. It helped me heal because it allowed me to put my pain on the page. And it still is. I journal every day.

At first I journaled in long hand in a notebook. Now I use the computer — the notebook went by the wayside after I left one on an airplane. I just tap away with no stopping for editing. It’s total stream of consciousness. Also, the computer gives me the ability to have complete privacy — the key to honest and open journaling. I keep my journal entries in a password-protected locked document file.

Lately, I’ve learned about several other journaling techniques by participating in journal chats and Facebook journaling groups. It is so inspiring to find out how and why other people journal and how much they’ve benefitted from it.

One technique is making lists of what I’ve accomplished in the past week or so, and what I have to do in the next few days. Keeping this action journal holds me accountable — even if I’m only accountable to myself. It gives me a way to take charge and move from thinking into living and doing &madash; not just waiting for things to happen to me.

Another technique is the confidence building practice of making declarations. Some I’ve made are:

• I Am a poet
• I Am a published author
• I Am creative

I can leave these declarations as is or write a journal entry about each one at future times.

Another journal technique is to write in pen in a lined or unlined notebook and draw pictures and add quotes and clippings to accompany the words on the page. My niece’s collage journals look like works of art. Other journaling ideas include: writing down one good thing every day, keeping a dream journal, recording things that make us laugh, and creating a drawing or painting instead of words to express our thoughts. How we journal is our choice.

Most everyone I know has good and bad stuff in their lives. I learned journaling is a way to come to grips with that. Journaling through my grief gave me a wonderful gift. I discovered I could write, and I created a book from the memories I wrote down in my journal entries. I recommend everyone try it and learn the power that can be gained from journaling.