When writing our memoirs or life stories, we tend to think about the milestone moments that have defined us—like our first job, our wedding day, or the birth of a child. We talk about the events that happened, but what about the less obvious forces that have shaped our lives—such as the missed opportunities, the passing of loved ones, or the dividing arguments? These experiences tend to lurk in the shadows of our memories, carving out valleys between the high points. While it is hard to acknowledge the painful times of our lives, I would argue that these moments are just as defining and important to chronicle as the happier moments, and here is why.
Negative and positive space
In art, there is a concept of positive space and negative space. The positive space is the subject, and the area around and between a subject is the negative space. To create a well balanced picture, it is necessary for the artist to compose both the positive and the negative spaces. Both elements are equally powerful, as represented by this famous optical illusion called Rubin’s Vase.
How negative space can sharpen and define a life story
In my first interview with a new personal history client, I started with a very basic opening question: What is the story of your birth? I was expecting the usual facts about date and place, but the answer he gave was quite surprising. He said, “I was born on December 30, 1930, but the real story of my birth is that my mother died of polio six months later.”
Now he had me hooked! My client went on to describe how he was raised by his grandmother and her husband in Bayonne, New Jersey, and he slept in a bedroom full of his mother’s old furniture and belongings. It wasn’t until he was eight or nine years old that he realized his grandmother wasn’t actually his mother. His father would come to visit him on weekends, but he never remarried. Then later as an adult, my client married a woman who had also been an only child, and they had three children to spare them from the loneliness they had experienced in their childhoods.
Now, this may sound like a dark and depressing story, but actually my client had a great sense of humor and he shared many happy memories as well. By tracing the contours of his mother’s absence, his childhood was given a shape, and a through-line emerged that gave meaning to his autobiography.
Using major branching points of your life to create structure for your life story
James E. Birren, one of the pioneers of gerontology, wrote several books about autobiographical writing as a therapeutic practice, and created a method of leading autobiography groups. One of the first exercises he recommends new autobiographers do: List your major life branches and graph them on a chart. According to Birren, branching points are “those small or large events in life that cause our life to take a new direction… Often a branching point feels like an ending and then turns out to be the beginning of something new.”
In my life, I can see a major branching point when my parents divorced when I was 10 years old. At the time it felt like my life was shattering into pieces. As the oldest of four children, I became the de facto caretaker of my siblings as my mother had to go to work full-time, and we were shuffled back and forth between my two parents’ households every other week. While it was the end of my childhood in many ways, I can also see how it shaped me into the adult I am today. I became very independent at an early age, and super organized. I wasn’t afraid to follow my own path. Now I am happily married with a child of my own, but I am also a businesswoman, I work for myself, and I am proud to define my own terms of success.
As you begin your autobiography, think about what the major branching points have been in your life, and write them down as a list. Birren even suggests that you graph them out on a “life graph” to visualize the peaks and valleys of your life. For each branching point, you will assign a number from -100 to +100 with 0 being a neutral point, for how negatively or positively the event felt. Once you have a birds-eye view of the highs and lows of your life, then you then can begin to construct your life story, capturing the true fullness of your journey.
Just like in art, stories are not complete without both positive and negative events. An autobiography that lists only the successes and sweet moments quickly becomes self indulgent and saccharin. No one’s life is like that. You are the protagonist of your own story, and we the readers want to root for you! The more you show us the shadows and valleys of your life, the more momentous and exciting the peaks will feel when we read about them in your story. Most importantly, your story will be honest. We are all but only human, after all. Our imperfections are what make us relatable and memorable.