Side Dishes: Let’s Write It All Down

WHEN I SAY potato, you know what you say, right? Hmmm. Maybe you don’t.

At “She Said/She Said” we explore that old, “You say potato, and I say poe-tah-toe” thing that sisters do—that not quite seeing the same experience in the very same way.

The idea of this blog came from a class I teach in memoir. Called Writing What You Know, the once-a-week course has run for 10 years, to date attracting 500 students, and recently the subject of an article in the Albany Times Union. Pretty much every single week someone has related what they felt when after reading a heartfelt personal essay to a family member, that family member responded, “That’s not what happened,” or some version on that theme. Just this week a man introduced himself, saying, “My sister says I write stories and that she tells the truth.”

I love that. And while that’s fascinating, what I’ve realized over the years is that this dual reality thing keeps a lot of people from telling their tales; the fact that there is another version of the very same family experience makes some people think that their version is not the truth, and therefore not worth telling.

Sound familiar?

Have you ever wanted to write about your family? Of course you have. But perhaps when you think about it, you clean your kitchen instead. Welcome to writing. It’s all about letting grime sink deep into your linoleum while you do some real work on the computer.

So, since you can’t all come to my class, amid the other posts I’ll make, I’ll come to you each week with a prodding memoir suggestion that every sister can ponder.

Here’s our first:

It’s the season, as they say, so let’s try something seasonal. I’m calling it “Side Dish,” though I’m not talking turkey. I’m talking the kind of dish you do when you tell tales. The Sister Project has a lovely spot for you to talk and post about food, over at Paige Smith Orloff’s blog “Hey, Little Sister,” but here, let’s all write just a few sentences on our sisters at the holidays.

Does she insist on her relish? Burn the turkey? Or worse, do everything perfectly?

Not motivated yet? How about the topic of gifts and what they are. What gifts from your sister have been a recognition of who you both are?

Gifts can be just that—for better or for worse. Usually it’s another purple sweater or cellophaned supermarket flowers, inspiring a silent repetition of the mantra that it’s the thought that counts, the thought that counts. Long ago, I began buying myself a yearly present, sure that a small indulgence is good preventive medicine, a fine hedge against any resentment of either being forgotten or worse, misunderstood. We want to be understood

Have you ever fully expressed in a gift just what it is that you understand about your sister? Has she, to you?

Oh, I can hear the typing from here.

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