Sharon Taylor set out to write a memoir so her descendants could know her. Now, she’s encouraging others to document their own lives.
Her advice for those who’ve thought about it but are intimidated by the process is simple.
“I’d tell them just to start,” Taylor said. “I think there are so many people who’ve told me, ‘Oh I’ve thought about writing a memoir; I wish I’d written a memoir.’ It’s never too late to start.”
She’ll share her experience at 6 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 14, with a talk, “Writing a Life: The Joys and Trials of Writing a Memoir,” at the Lewiston City Library, 411 D St.
Taylor used Canadian self-publishing company FriesenPress for her book, “The Benign Skeptic,” which she’s distributing to her family members, including four children, four stepchildren, 14 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren.
“And more than that, I wanted to leave it for my unborn descendants,” she said.
She didn’t meet many of her forebears: Her great-grandparents died before she was born, as did three of her four grandparents, and their lives remain largely a mystery to her.
“I’d love my descendants to know more about me than that,” she said. “That was my main motivation.”
Taylor started 12 years ago and finished her manuscript during the pandemic, when she had more time to write and rewrite.
Now known as a sculptor, whose works include the bronze Reading Mother in the children’s section at the Lewiston City Library, Taylor is retired from Lewis-Clark State
Her advice for those who’ve thought about it but are intimidated by the process is simple.
“I’d tell them just to start,” Taylor said. “I think there are so many people who’ve told me, ‘Oh I’ve thought about writing a memoir; I wish I’d written a memoir.’ It’s never too late to start.”
She’ll share her experience at 6 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 14, with a talk, “Writing a Life: The Joys and Trials of Writing a Memoir,” at the Lewiston City Library, 411 D St.
Taylor used Canadian self-publishing company FriesenPress for her book, “The Benign Skeptic,” which she’s distributing to her family members, including four children, four stepchildren, 14 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren.
“And more than that, I wanted to leave it for my unborn descendants,” she said.
She didn’t meet many of her forebears: Her great-grandparents died before she was born, as did three of her four grandparents, and their lives remain largely a mystery to her.
“I’d love my descendants to know more about me than that,” she said. “That was my main motivation.”
Taylor started 12 years ago and finished her manuscript during the pandemic, when she had more time to write and rewrite.
Now known as a sculptor, whose works include the bronze Reading Mother in the children’s section at the Lewiston City Library, Taylor is retired from Lewis-Clark State
College where she led its English as a Second Language program and taught linguistics. But a background in writing isn’t necessary for compiling a memoir, she said.
And sharing a few pages of memories and reflections with family members can be just as valuable, if writing a book seems like too much. A great-uncle she never met wrote 30 pages about his life, she said, and that memoir, short as it was, left her feeling like she knew him.
Writing about her life proved to be as much an exercise in self-discovery as a way to record her life for future generations.
“By writing my memoir, I sort of understood my life better than I had before,” Taylor said.
She was born in Bend, Ore., in 1939 and grew up in Portland, where she and her siblings lived through many historical events. She wrote about those events from her perspective, she said, and “and how they affected me.”
In the second chapter of her book, Taylor describes how as a small child she walked around looking for foil gum wrappers, which her brother added to his collection of metals for the war effort.
“He ended up making a huge ball out of tin foil,” she said. “My contribution was those gum wrappers.”
Their parents divorced when she was 8, and her relatively tranquil existence suddenly was shattered. Her mother married a man who physically abused Taylor, and when they separated, the family was left with little money, struggling to get by.
“It was a year that changed me a lot,” Taylor said.
Many of the memories she unearthed, now viewed with a lifetime of experiences behind her, helped her empathize with the sometimes challenging behavior of adults in her young life. Others simply were painful.
A neighbor she loved as a child built her a dollhouse. Then, when his wife was out of town, he talked her into taking off her clothes. She was 8 years old.
“I’d never heard of grooming at that time,” Taylor said. “But then, when I was writing, I suddenly realized ‘Oh, he was grooming me.’ That was not a fun thing to realize, but it was true.”
She found herself including pieces of advice for her descendants as she wrote, “so I sort of made it a part of my memoir to do that. I tried not to get too bossy or anything.”
Those passages are emphasized in bold, and a note to her family in the book’s forward indicates they’re meant for them.
Taylor said she’ll talk during her presentation about the phenomenon of memories returning as she wrote.
“People say, ‘How did you remember all this?’ ” she said. “It was easy. When you start thinking about it, it comes flowing back. It’s an interesting process.”
Taylor’s book is available from FriesenPress, at bit.ly/TaylorMemoir, as an ebook ($6.99), paperback ($19.99) or hardback ($27.99). It’s also available at Amazon.com.
Stone (she/her) can be reached at mstone@inland360.com.
And sharing a few pages of memories and reflections with family members can be just as valuable, if writing a book seems like too much. A great-uncle she never met wrote 30 pages about his life, she said, and that memoir, short as it was, left her feeling like she knew him.
Writing about her life proved to be as much an exercise in self-discovery as a way to record her life for future generations.
“By writing my memoir, I sort of understood my life better than I had before,” Taylor said.
She was born in Bend, Ore., in 1939 and grew up in Portland, where she and her siblings lived through many historical events. She wrote about those events from her perspective, she said, and “and how they affected me.”
In the second chapter of her book, Taylor describes how as a small child she walked around looking for foil gum wrappers, which her brother added to his collection of metals for the war effort.
“He ended up making a huge ball out of tin foil,” she said. “My contribution was those gum wrappers.”
Their parents divorced when she was 8, and her relatively tranquil existence suddenly was shattered. Her mother married a man who physically abused Taylor, and when they separated, the family was left with little money, struggling to get by.
“It was a year that changed me a lot,” Taylor said.
Many of the memories she unearthed, now viewed with a lifetime of experiences behind her, helped her empathize with the sometimes challenging behavior of adults in her young life. Others simply were painful.
A neighbor she loved as a child built her a dollhouse. Then, when his wife was out of town, he talked her into taking off her clothes. She was 8 years old.
“I’d never heard of grooming at that time,” Taylor said. “But then, when I was writing, I suddenly realized ‘Oh, he was grooming me.’ That was not a fun thing to realize, but it was true.”
She found herself including pieces of advice for her descendants as she wrote, “so I sort of made it a part of my memoir to do that. I tried not to get too bossy or anything.”
Those passages are emphasized in bold, and a note to her family in the book’s forward indicates they’re meant for them.
Taylor said she’ll talk during her presentation about the phenomenon of memories returning as she wrote.
“People say, ‘How did you remember all this?’ ” she said. “It was easy. When you start thinking about it, it comes flowing back. It’s an interesting process.”
Taylor’s book is available from FriesenPress, at bit.ly/TaylorMemoir, as an ebook ($6.99), paperback ($19.99) or hardback ($27.99). It’s also available at Amazon.com.
Stone (she/her) can be reached at mstone@inland360.com.
