W HILE THE SISTER PROJECT has been up and running only a month, it seems we already know a great deal about one another. How is that possible? One way is through the direct information we share: that Margaret’s my genetic sister, that my sister-friend Paige of “Hey, Little Sister” can really cook. And while pure facts are great, if there is a Number 1 rule of writing (or any form of effective communication) it’s this: Show, don’t tell.
Reading between the lines, beyond the facts, we can develop a deeper sense of one another, from how we characterize ourselves in our posts and in our comments. With a sister, though, that can be a real challenge sometimes.
How can I characterize my sister and me in one small way? How can you characterize yours?
I teach memoir writing, and in good memoir writing, a fine rule to follow is not to tell someone’s height, weight or hair color unless it lends something to your story. If your grandmother’s dark brown eyes are the exact shade of the chocolate icing you’re spreading on the cupcake you make from her recipe, well fine, throw that ingredient into the piece and we’ll feel the love. But notice that it’s a small detail, and that we don’t need her whole face looming up at us to get the picture.
I remind my students (and myself) to characterize the person in the smallest ways possible to reveal who she really is—as well as who she is to you. What are her gestures, her habits? Here’s the wrinkle, though: The closer the person is to you, the harder it is to characterize her in a gesture. How can I characterize my sister and me in one small way? How can you characterize yours?
Let’s try this exercise on the subject of New Year’s Eve. What do you do, and how does your sister (or sister-friend, or brother) celebrate?
I’ll go first:
Me: Practicing the ancient Scottish tradition of Hogmanay, I’ll be braced in the doorway, no matter whose house I’m at, no matter how cold, or how small my dress, welcoming in the New Year and booting out the old.
Margaret: At midnight, as the New Year rushes in? Oh, she’s long asleep.
Your turn.
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{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
My sister and I do the same thing to celebrate the New Year, cozy up at home with our significant other and try to stay awake until midnight! Now celebrating Christmas appears to be another matter. I spoke to my sister on the phone on Christmas Day and she mentioned that she got “something from Tiffany’s” for Christmas, which she said was a tradition with her and her partner. I asked my husband to get me an ID bracelet for running (so in case I get wiped out, the police can identify my body). I guess, technically, both of those things are jewelry.
Welcome back, Sandy: While it appears true that both of you are getting what characterizes you, here at The Sister Project we wonder if your sister has your jeweler’s eye for telling detail, and your wicked sense of humor.
I am a flower; my sister is a gardener. (That’s a bit stolen from Carrie Fisher, who described her relationship with Paul Simon as “two flowers, no gardener”… a slightly more captivating version of this particular take on people as caretakers — as in, requiring care — and caregivers.)
I’m the one who blooms and grows and smells good and shows off and stuff. She’s the one who figured out how to make the sun rise and the rain fall, and I’m pretty sure she did it all for me.
Sappy? Sure. But she’s my sister.
So on New Year’s, I’ll be wearing finery and clinking glasses. She’ll be sleeping, resting, preparing to do it all again tomorrow.
Hello, Jody. Maybe you should give your sister my number and I’ll give you Marion’s, and the two early-to-bedders can call each other and say goodnight at 8 or 9, and you two party-girls can swap good wishes much later in the evening. Love your description, sap and all (we gardeners know a thing or two about sap).
Hey, Jody. Welcome. We love reading how various sisters describe/define/characterize themselves, and your version is surely one of my favorites. Thanks so much. I promise to spray a little bubbly your way at midnight at the New Year, even as I blow my sleeping sister a kiss. Please visit us again soon.
If I had only known about Hogmanay, I would have shown up at your house with one of my holiday black cakes to share…oh, except, like Margaret, I spend new year’s eve home in jammies. Awake, working, in jammies, with my whole family asleep around me. Perfect.