Hey, everybody!
And welcome to another Prompt Monday!
This week, we’re going to do a variation on a writing workshop favorite: the old “I remember” prompt. I’m guessing many of you have seen this one before. It usually goes something like this:
Write a piece of prose or poetry by beginning each of your sentences with the words “I remember…”
(NOTE: Though it’s somewhat similar, this prompt is not the same as Prompt #9 when we did “I remember/You remember differently.”)
Many people associate this prompt with the artist and writer Joe Brainard who wrote a short memoir in 1970 called…. wait for it… I Remember. If you’ve not read this book already, seek it out!
Here’s what the writer Olivia Laing has to say about its wonderfulness: “The Bible aside, I can't think of a more original or lovely book.” And then there’s this, from the late author Paul Auster: “I Remember is ... one of the few totally original books I have ever read.”
In his book, Brainard begins nearly every sentence with the words “I remember.”
Here are a few choice snippets:
I remember my first erections. I thought I had some terrible disease or something.
I remember the only time I ever saw my mother cry. I was eating apricot pie.
I remember when my father would say "Keep your hands out from under the covers" as he said goodnight. But he said it in a nice way.
I remember when I thought that if you did anything bad, policemen would put you in jail.
I remember when polio was the worst thing in the world.
I remember eating tunnels and cities out of watermelon.
I remember one brick wall and three white walls.
I remember drawing pictures in church on pledge envelopes and programs.
I remember Christmas cards arriving from people my parents forgot to send Christmas cards to.
I remember little cream jars in restaurants.
I remember going grocery shopping with Pat Padgett (Pat Mitchell then) and slipping a steak into her coat pocket when she wasn't looking.
This goes on for over 100 pages. Brainard remembers everything! If you’re interested in reading more of Brainard’s book, take a look HERE.
This method of employing repetition for emphasis has a name: anaphora. Here’s an official definition of the term from Merriam-Webster:
An anaphora is a rhetorical device in which a word or expression is repeated at the beginning of a number of sentences, clauses, or phrases.
(FYI: We’ll be doing more anaphoric exercises/prompts in future weeks.)
Plenty of people have borrowed Brainard’s structure. Here are just a very few:
Here’s the poet Mary Ruefle with her own version: LINK.
The poet Thomas Hood’s version is HERE.
One more poet: Abigail Maskill’s work can be found HERE.
Recently, the writer Jonathan Lethem wrote a remembrance of Paul Auster in the Guardian, borrowing the “I remember” structure for his tribute, placing those words at the start of each paragraph. LINK.
Here’s a piece in Harper’s that you should be able to access (you get a couple of freebies each month if you don’t subscribe). It’s by Sigrid Nunez and it’s all about Joe Brainard and this writing exercise: LINK. If you scroll down far enough, you’ll see where Nunez uses “I remember” to write about herself.
TODAY’S PROMPT
Yes. This week, we’re going to use the words “I remember” in our stories:
Start your story with the words “I remember” and then continue to use that phrase at the start of each sentence (OR some of the sentences, Or at the beginning of a phrase/clause, OR at the start of each paragraph) throughout your piece.
The point here is the repetition along with the subject of memory.
Remember that your “I remember” piece can be COMPLETELY MADE UP. Or not. Your choice.
If this prompt isn’t speaking to you, feel free to change the phrase “I remember”to “I don’t remember” or “You may not remember” or “I completely forgot” or some other variation of your own invention.
You can use this prompt any time, but it’s especially helpful for those days when you don’t know what to write. It’s an excellent way to get words on the page. And you may surprise yourself with the things you remember.
As always, write as much as you wish, but please keep anything you post in the comments to a maximum of 400 words. That may mean posting only a portion of your story and then summarizing the rest. Thank you!
I remember you with the iron poker, poking at something in the fireplace.
I remember you opening my bedroom door. Yelling, who burned my bathing suit.
I remember the men arriving and taking you away.
I remember the red thing floating in the glass of water when you picked it up and swirled it.
I remember you telling me to drink the water.
I remember the men arriving and taking you away.
I remember you up all night, studying handwriting, the Merck manual, old photos.
Oh, the things you did.
I remember almost breaking your finger.
I remember you dancing and dancing.
I remember you weeping and weeping.
I remember the men arriving and taking you away.
I remember the men arriving and taking you away.
I remember the men arriving and taking you away.
I remember driving together through Seattle, looking for the end of the rainbow and finding it.
I remember you laughing. You had the best laugh of anyone. I loved making you laugh.
I remember being too young to smoke, or drink, the petrified cumulus clouds of August, the oppressive green leaves of middle Connecticut, it's heat and humidity. A glass of lemonade?
I remember lying under a tree in Hyde Park with a girl who worked on car engines.
Lighting the fire behind the neighbor's garage, running home and climbing into my toy box, I remember that.
And I remember stealing things. Not a long or vary valuable list, but..
And just now remember hiding poems in my bookcase, written after reading Sartre. Still clueless, I remember trying to parse existentialism, but my mother found the poems anyway.
Yes, I remember her a nosy sort.
I remember how impossible living to the age I am now would be. Now I am starting to forget about that, but that's ok because new brain cells are still growing and making new connections, which is something astonishing.
So when a friend forgets they've told you the same story ten times it's ok because you don't remember them and it's like hearing it the first time all over again.
I remember I forget things. And forget to remember things.
Remembering and forgetting take place in close proximity in our brains. Maybe even the same place !
Sometimes I remember things I never knew in the first place, but don't remember an example right now.