John Silva interview: Road to a memoir

I just started writing; I had no outline. I was writing about hot spots before McCourt mentioned them. I began with scenes that I came back to in my mind over and over again. The first was the death of my father, which I had written about in a 1996 story published in the Virginia Quarterly Review that incorporated elements from my life. I had to explore my feelings more deeply for the memoir. I was 10 years old when he died, and my reaction was very visceral. Everything jelled after that first workshop.

Did anyone provide background?

My mother provided stories from his past that were great background. He wrote the story of his life, which included our relatives and was illuminating for me. He was an anatomy professor and he provided more details about helping the injured at the front during World War II. My older sister, a Russian actress from my mother’s previous marriage, also filled me in on events. I was grateful to both of them.

How did you feel about revealing difficult times with your daughter?

That was a very sensitive area. The memoir wouldn’t be complete without that part, but it’s a conundrum in writing a memoir. I didn’t know how to deal with his teenage rebellion and his tattoos and how to write about it. It helped that my husband, his father, is a therapist. I showed him the scenes, and he made me feel better. He said that part is from my point of view and not meant to hurt his. In a way, he gave me permission to release my discomfort. You’re the only one who knows what might hurt someone and what won’t. On the other hand, you’re telling your story.

How did you approach the use of dialogue?

Dialogue grounds the reader in the character. We need to know how the character speaks, what is important to them. Dialogue makes scenes come alive and places you “in the moment.” You often have to make it up, though. I don’t remember conversations from years ago, but I know what the person would say. I know how to make it ring true.

Was writing a memoir cathartic?

It was cathartic and therapeutic and all those words. For example, I never knew my father, and I wanted to know him. He was such a romantic image to me, but of course, he wasn’t really, he was a Soviet party functionary and I elevated him after he was gone. I never addressed figuring out what I wanted from him. I remember weeping more than once when I wrote that chapter. I think I dealt with his death, and I’m fine with it. It no longer haunts me.

How many people did you have critique your drafts?

My husband read them several times. I asked my friend in Russia, who is Nina in the book, to read them, and my writing group read several chapters. I had five [to] seven people read the first memoir and three people read the second.

Do you enjoy writing or editing more?

I love polishing what I’ve written. The hardest thing for me is sitting in front of a blank screen and writing the first draft. It’s easier for me to correct what I’ve written than to write from scratch. I have to write a lot of drafts. I don’t even count them.

What advice would you give to someone considering a memoir?

A famous quote from Chekhov that sounds better in Russian goes something like, “If you are able not to write, don’t write.” If you can live without it, don’t do it, because it’s painful and humiliating and an awful lot of work, especially memoir. I had to write because I could not live without it. That’s what any potential writer should ask him or himself. Can I live without writing this? And if you can, then don’t do it.

Pat Olsen is a frequent contributor to the New York Times Sunday Business section. His work has also appeared in Hemispheres, Diversity Woman, USA WEEKEND, and Family Business, among others.