Finding the Macro in the Micro

Sometimes we need a change of perspective.

One day in 2018 I sat down in front of my laptop and jotted down notes about the memoir I couldn’t stop thinking about. I was actually in the middle of writing a novel, but after publishing several essays about my divorce that led to several messages from other women with suggestions that I write a book about my divorce, I decided to give the memoir a try. 

I had no idea where to begin or if I even had enough material for an entire book. But I had nearly 20 years of journals that acted as my memory, my own past words reminding me of every thought, every emotion, every significant event. I knew reading through dozens of journals would take time. I knew I would have to read carefully to weed through the mundane to unearth the meanings in the moments. I knew that writing this memoir was all about finding the micro in the macro.

Fast forward to present day. After finishing the third draft of my memoir manuscript and sending it off to beta readers, I needed a brain break from the mindset of writing a book, from the macro. And when I need breaks from projects, I tend to experiment with different topics, different genres. During this particular experimentation, I found myself doing the exact opposite of what I’d been doing. 

I found the macro in the micro.

Instead of focusing on telling a story in a 91,000 word memoir manuscript, I worked on telling a story in 100 words. When you only have 100 words to play with, every word needs to count, every scene and thought and emotion needs to be so much bigger than they seem at first glance.

For Five Minutes, I wrote a micro-memoir called “Are You Okay?” about a diagnostic medical procedure I had done earlier this year. But even though I was describing one specific, brief event, the piece ended with a statement encapsulating something I deal with on a regular basis as a person living with chronic pain, a question I face daily from both others and myself that I’m often unable to answer. In the micro form, I touched on a macro theme.

Then, for The New York Times Tiny Love Stories column, I wrote a piece called “Thanks for Sheltering Me” about my post-divorce apartment. I used these 100 words to express my love for the apartment I lived in for three years as a single mother, with an ending that (hopefully) left readers with the bigger, macro picture of my personal growth before finding love again.

My brain break from my memoir is over now, the fourth draft of the manuscript underway. While I’m back to a macro perspective, I’m realizing my micro-memoir writing is helping me to cut unnecessary words, to use less space to say more.

A change in perspective is just what I needed.