The best laid plans are those best laid to rest

BY PAT BUCKNA

In 2001, I decided to write a memoir. I had a structure, a plan, and over twenty years of experience in project management. I’d worked as a journalist and believed all successful projects began with a solid plan.

My manuscript would outline how I created my first album in the 1980s. Each chapter would centre around one of the original songs on the recording, with lyrics, and recount how events in my life had shaped each song.

I enrolled in the The Writer’s Studio at Simon Fraser University (SFU) to complete my manuscript, strengthen my writing skills, and get feedback on my writing. I wanted to focus on the challenges of a book-length manuscript; my mentor wanted instead to discuss writing good sentences. Early submissions were met with confusion, criticism, and general lack of interest from my mentor and cohort. I began to doubt my writing skills.

I also ran into problems fitting my narrative into the rigid structure I had defined when I set out. As I recalled the circumstances that led to creating each song, I felt a need to provide more and more context to make the material understandable. Soon I found myself deep in earliest childhood memories and situations that had nothing to do with my songs.

An unexpected thing happened. The anecdotes from childhood began to resonate with readers so well that they supplanted the dull, analytical chapters built around my songs. My SFU cohort at The Writer’s Studio responded favourably to the new writing, and I began to question my original outline.

After a little over a year, I completed a first draft, but my manuscript bore little resemblance to the one I had planned to write. As one of my writing instructors said, writers need to complete a first draft to know what they are writing about. Once you know how your book should end, you can begin to tell the story in the most appropriate way. My personal memoir had become a family memoir, and even though music and songwriting were part of the story, the focus had shifted.

Over the next fifteen years, I rewrote and revised the manuscript several times. I struggled with point of view, what to include and exclude, tense, voice, and even whether I was writing fiction or non-fiction. With the help of some excellent editors, I was able to complete my manuscript. In summer 2019, I self-published my memoir, Only Children. I had not only gained valuable insights into my relationship to family but had also learned a lot about my writing process.

Unlike a project with a specific predetermined result, creative writing is iterative and must be allowed to proceed at its own pace and in whatever direction it chooses. Writers must get out of the way of what they are writing. In other words, exploration and spontaneity often lead to the best writing.

Some writers create outlines, then fill in the details as they write, but my approach has become the opposite. I now write without intention. This results in unexpected and sometimes uncomfortable revelations, but ultimately more satisfying results. First drafts become roadmaps into the territory my writing chooses to occupy. Instead of revision, I rewrite to eliminate unimportant sections, drill down into the heart of my narrative, and expose new insights. No longer constrained by unachievable plans and predetermined structure, I let my writing decide where we must go and where we end up. I trust that my writing knows where it needs to take me, and I’m happy to set my plans aside and enjoy the ride.

Pat Buckna selfpublished Only Children: A Family Memoir in 2019. He lives in Powell River where he composes music and performs locally. Prior to the pandemic, he organized and promoted music events and house concerts for many years.