As mentioned in the previous post, it’s surprisingly hard to write a war-survival memoir that comes across as compelling on the page. Writing these survival stories is also hard on the author, both spiritually and physically. No matter how tough and resilient the writer is, they need to prioritize soul care and care of their physical bodies.
Committing to writing a war survival memoir can test one’s resolve in ways that no one can predict. That pressure comes from:
- The relentlessness of writing and revising the same brutal scene multiple times.
- Writing all key scenes with enough remembered detail that a reader (a total stranger) will feel like they are “in it” with the author.
- Remembering details of not only the most brutal scenes, but also more pleasant or beautiful moments.
- Living in that remembered space for hours at a time while writing, or being interviewed, then disengaging and going back to one’s day job, home life, or mundane domestic activities. (Weirdly brutal!)
- Managing the stress of scheduling one’s book project within an already busy life.
- Remain professional while receiving critique of all those detailed, carefully-crafted scenes.
Because of all that, I actually require all my clients to enlist the care of a therapist or counselor during the entire duration that they work with me as an editor, coach, or ghostwriter.
This requirement directly supports the author. It also preserves our professional relationship.
The very nature of an editorial or ghostwriting relationship involves hundreds of hours of intensive personal interviews. I ask questions repeatedly and in a variety of ways to elicit the sensory details that I need to accurately line-edit or fully ghostwrite a scene. This process inherently results in a close, albeit one-sided, relationship. It’s a relationship that, for many people, can turn highly therapeutic. That’s okay, however, I am not a therapist. If I am the only “therapeutic relationship” in someone’s life they will organically begin to rely on me for actual talk therapy. That’s a serious problem for our working relationship.
It’s my job solely to ensure the text communicates well and shines from a literary standpoint. I have to constructively criticize the text. If I am the only therapeutic relationship in a new author’s life, they will inevitably receive this critique as a critique of their very soul. The most jaded combat veteran or civilian war survivor can break down in tears or a fit of rage (almost always a cover for tears), upon their first editorial feedback session—if they don’t have a solid therapeutic support network in place.
Even with that support lined up, it can be genuinely painful to receive useful editorial critique of something so sensitive as a scene involving one’s physical survival.
For the sake of the book’s quality, and for integrity of the editorial relationship, all my authors build an extensive self-care lifestyle. This involves more than just counseling or therapy. It involves a whole host of meaningful relationships and practices. This might include:
- Support from one’s significant other and family members
- Support from two or three very close friends
- Healthy frequent exercise
- Eating well and getting enough sleep
- Unique activities that recharge your batteries and the commitment to do those activities (hobbies!)
Soul care also involves the ability to pace oneself and set do-able goals. If those goals turn out to be too aggressive, soul care means having an honest conversation with the editor and adjusting the goals.
For all those reasons, it is crucial to make soul care a major priority when writing any memoir, but especially when tackling the unique challenge of writing the war survival memoir.