At the corner of Park and King, at the heart of the Jax By Jax Literary Festival, we invited festival-goers to help write a collective “memoir” poem to the prompt, “I remember when….” They also wrote their own six-word memoirs and another collective poem start with the words, “I am from.”
The Audience Writes
We stood at the corner of Park and King at the Jax By Jax Literary Festival on Saturday afternoon, hoping it wouldn’t rain on us, and invited festival participants to tell their stories.
We wanted to give ordinary folks a chance to write and be heard at the festival, so we invited them to create a six-word memoir, to join in to a community poem about Jacksonville to the prompt of “I remember…,” and to create another collective poem about being from Jacksonville.
The results were interesting. It was good to give folks permission to participate as writers, and create the space for them to do that. After all…that’s the heart of what we do here at Women Writing for (a) Change. But it was also good just to stand at the intersection of culture and creativity and community and celebrate the new Jacksonville, one that acknowledges its collective past and builds a new future with a greater understanding of self.
Here’s what they wrote (edited a bit for continuity):
I Remember When
I remember when I moved to Jacksonville
to live with the children-eating gators.
I’m from all over the U.S., but I grew up in Florida.
I remember going to the Dreamette after school.
I went to the zoo with my friend, Miles.
I scraped my knees near the Riverside bars.
I rode the bus across town for the first time.
I smelled the coffee at daybreak,
and stopped to have a cup.
I burnt my tongue,
But the coffee was rich and strong.
I fell in a lake once. The algae got stuck on my canoe.
I stepped on the head of a water moccasin.
I cannot count all the shoes I’ve lost to Doctor’s Lake!
(The Loch Ness Monster looks good in Nikes!)
I remember when I first read the book that made me leave God.
I had my palm read, alone at 2 a.m., outside of Loft.
I started having more questions than answers.
I went to a snake-handling church service,
And I saw the Devil in the faces of the faithful.
I stopped going to church,
Unsure of what it was.
I was a sunburnt girl, tired but happy, peeling shrimp with wet hands.
I played with my kids at the beach.
The girls woke before sunrise and decorated the tree in their matching pink Barbie nightgowns.
I rang the bell—it was a big one.
I walked through town and saw progress all around.
I remember.
—Collective Poem, Jax By Jax Literary Festival participants, Nov. 11, 2017
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Six-Word Memoirs: A Selection
The goal is to write a full story in six words. Ernest Hemmingway once (allegedly) wrote, “For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn. Here’s more from NPR on the Six-Word Memoir.
It all feels like a dream.
Everything happens for a reason, love.
Someday my dreams will come true.
I didn’t know enough to fear.
Yes, the night had to end.
He tried his best. What else?
Loony-bin wasn’t on my bucket list, but…
She dreamed until it became reality.
I still keep my fingers crossed.
Real life contains a fantasy membrane.
Love, light, and laughter—always yours.
A self-made man overcame odds.
It’s all about the writing technique.
Grad school creates endless crippling debt.
Drank the rain (acid and otherwise).
Last time, she didn’t show up.
If only love was infinite but…
And, after all this time, yes.
And then they had to leave.
—Six-Word Memoirs, written by Jax By Jax Literary Festival participants, Nov. 11, 2017
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‘I Am From’ poetry
We also gave folks a chance to create a collective “I Am From” poem, based on a template from Freeology.com. Here’s the edited final version:
I Am From
I am from Boston snow and heaven.
I wonder if I made the right move.
I hear the car start up.
I see palm trees outside the window.
I want to retire and stay away from winter.
I am from Boston snow and heaven.
I pretend I live in outer space.
I feel otherworldly.
I touch a little bell that rings quietly.
I worry about the future for my daughter, Zoe.
I cry at the motherless children.
I am from Boston snow and heaven.
I understand nihilism.
I say truth will prevail.
I dream of flying.
I try not to lie.
I hope to float.
I am from Boston snow and heaven.
—Collective Poem, written by Jax By Jax Literary Festival participants, Nov. 11, 2017