Let’s look at some openings from published memoirs.
Last time, I threw out a few ideas to get you started on your memoir’s first sentence or couple of sentences. The beginning of your book will provide the hook to keep readers interested in finishing Chapter One and, you hope, beyond. But how critical is that first sentence? You probably want examples.
Into My Library of Celebrity Memoirs
As I often mention, my motivation to run is that it’s the only time I allow myself to listen to celebrity memoirs. By now, quite a few celebrities have talked me through my painful track training, so in a quick review I chose some of their memoir openings to share with you, along with my comments.
I have too many for one post, so I’m going to save half for a Part 3 on this topic. Today’s half offers only actors. I want to know about the author’s youth, but I admit to being partial to memoirs that start somewhere other than in childhood. Let’s see how these sentences introduce the reader to the memoirist’s world.
Jennette McCurdy, I’m Glad My Mom Died
“The present in front of me is wrapped in Christmas paper even though it’s the end of June. We have so much paper left over from the holidays because Grandpa got the dozen-roll set from Sam’s Club even though Mom told him a million times that it wasn’t even that good of a deal.”
You wouldn’t want a shocking beginning when you already have that irreverent title, so a somewhat banal first sentence provides balance. This bestseller lets you know you’re in for a story, not just a lengthy whine.
The sentence mentions her mom, so we stay on topic, but it doesn’t hint at why the author might be glad her mom died. If anything, she implies that she’s on the same page with her mother about the wisdom of her grandfather’s purchase. She gets you wondering what will happen with her mother. As my last post mentioned, it’s good to get readers to ask questions, because they’ll keep reading to find the answers.
This is a very young author, so starting in childhood isn’t going that far back. Still, note the choice.
Harvey Fierstein, I Was Better Last Night
“Philamina got the role of the evil witch, and I was cast as the king. The king? Who wants to be the king? Sure, he gets a crown and a cape, but the witch gets green skin, red lips and long, black fingernails. I wanted green skin, red lips and long, black fingernails. Second grade was not working out the way I’d hoped.”
The memoir of Harvey Fierstein, whom I hope no one confuses with Harvey Weinstein, focuses mostly on Fierstein’s professional life as an actor and personal life as a gay man. His opening sentences weave in both topics and then end with a surprise punchline that made me laugh out loud. Even if you read this memoir rather than listen to it, you can hear Fierstein’s distinctive, raspy voice in that last sentence.
I loved the book, and the first paragraph is probably my favorite of this group because it’s funny. But, again, here we are in childhood. And not every memoir can start with humor, so you may not be able to copy this style.
Viola Davis, Finding Me
“‘Cocksucker motherfucker’ was my favorite expression, and at eight years old I used it defiantly. I was a spunky, sassy mess, and when I spewed that expression, one hand would be on my hip, my middle finger in vast display, and maybe my tongue would be sticking out.”
Having Viola Davis read to you for hours is a treat, but I’m not sure about this opening sentence. Her description of her little self paints a clear mental picture, and the reader needs that because in her masterpiece of a memoir Davis spends a lot of time on her childhood.
I think my problem with this opening is that it feels like an early draft. I can see an author sitting and thinking about how to start her story and coming up with this, as if she’s looking at herself from an outside vantage point. It’s almost too cutesy or self-conscious or something. I’m a little torn on this one.
Rob Lowe, Stories I Only Tell My Friends
“I had always had an affinity for him, an admiration for his easy grace, his natural charisma, despite the fact that for the better part of a decade, my then-girlfriend kept a picture of him running shirtless through Central Park on her refrigerator door.”
The “him,” the target of Lowe’s affection as well as his girlfriend’s admiration, is John F. Kennedy, Jr. The two men were friends, and even though JFK Jr. doesn’t play a large role in Lowe’s memoir, he pops up later in the book in a pivotal way.
This opening, then, deftly previews for the reader that this friend will have something to do with Lowe’s life, but it’s so subtle that you might not see it coming when JFK Jr. shows up years down the road. The first sentence also gives you a feel for the way Rob Lowe saw people and hints at the role handsomeness will play in the book. I think it’s a good opening, and it’s nice to start somewhere other than childhood.
Minka Kelly, Tell Me Everything
“’Oh baby, I have something special in store for you,’ Mom gushed. She hugged her arms close to her chest as if she needed to keep the joy from bursting through her entire body, like it was a current of energy that pulsed through her, not always under the influence of her control.”
I feel as if I’m always going overboard in being transparent, and on this one my full disclosure is that I included Minka Kelly’s memoir because I really enjoyed it and hope to give it a little more exposure so more people read it. But then I’m a big fan of TV’s “Friday Night Lights,” in which Kelly had a lead acting role.
Like so many others, Kelly chose to begin her memoir in childhood and tell readers about her mother, the primary figure in her life. Bringing us into the heart of an anecdote, she leads with dialogue. I’m fine with using dialogue to open other chapters, but for Chapter One of the memoir I think it’s a bit of an easy way out. Don’t let that discourage you from reading the memoir. It’s good.
Henry Winkler, Being Henry
“It was the biggest audition of my life, and the sweat stains under my arms weren’t just clearly visible; they were a cry for help.”
I’m surprised this type of sentence doesn’t open more celebrity memoirs to immediately place us at the most pivotal point of the career. Maybe authors want to build anticipation so we keep reading until we get to the part of the celebrity’s life that most interests us.
We can make an educated guess about what the biggest audition of his life is—probably for the breakout role of Fonzie in “Happy Days”—but Winkler stops short of giving us the full story here. Readers don’t find out how that audition played out until much later in the book. I like the tease, and I also like the acknowledgment right away that the author knows why we bought his memoir.
Sally Field, In Pieces
“I wait for my mother to haunt me, as she promised she would, long to wake in the night with the familiar sight of her sitting at the end of my bed, to talk to her one more time, to feel that all the pieces have been put into place, the puzzle is solved, and I can rest.”
Field wants to quickly tell us what her title is about. I’m not sure that’s necessary; it’s not hard for readers figure out on their own. But the opening sentence is effective in letting us know that an Oscar winner now in her 70s is, if not still fixated on her relationship with her mother, at least writing her book in part to explore that relationship. I don’t think it’s the most original beginning, the most personal or even the strongest she could have come up with, but I think it’s not bad.
Is “Not Bad” Good Enough?
You can see that I’m not falling all over myself about how great these openings are. Some are very good; others are just adequate. But not one is a failure. I’ll let you know in Part 3 whether “not bad” is good enough.