Blake Morrison’s early ambitions did not include becoming a life writer. Then his father died, prompting him to explore parts of his relationship with him that he had never considered before. Death was the trigger for memoir. "For others it might be a disturbed childhood, or addiction or mental breakdown, or the threat to the environment, or displacement to a new country, or the chaos of the political world," Blake says.
In my case, a film was the "trigger" and the realisation back in 2020 that I had things to say about how this film had set me on the path to becoming a writer. As far back as I can remember, I have felt a compulsion to create. As a boy, I’d invent stories in my mind, not to share with anyone, but just to entertain myself. The stories played out like films, since they all grew out of cinema I had watched. Something shifted in me when I watched a film – like a wave dragging me under, and with it, a desire to see a new world below the surface. Even now, films can still spark that urge, though in adulthood the catalyst sits more with literature than cinema. My PhD, which became a memoir, was set in motion by a particular film.
Let me explain.
I remained stuck, essentially, in illiteracy until the age of fourteen, at which point I first encountered John Carpenter’s The Fog (1980). I avoided reading at school, where children like me were mostly overlooked. I acted like I understood, although I never attempted to decode the words. I was ignorant and lazy. At the time, I probably felt more indifference than shame about it. There was no belief that reading could unlock anything, not the way films seemed to. It also felt like a waste of time, a door I didn’t need to open. Reading had no place in the life I was expected to live. The Fog, however, left me with questions I wanted answered. It felt layered enough to make me keep coming back to it. Some of the scenes in it changed how I saw my future.
That, I thought, was enough of a reason to embark on a memoir. The difficulty was that it proved harder to write than I had initially imagined. Yes, I did my research, devoting the next six years to reading memoir after memoir and British Film Institute book after BFI book, trying to discover the secret ingredient that would make the combination pleasing to the reader. Yet every draft I produced left me with a bitter aftertaste. Most of the self-help books about writing nonfiction failed to help. I see now that I was looking for something like an A-to-Z: much like the road map of Great Britain my father kept tucked inside the seat pocket of his car. His advice was simply: "Never set off without a map."
It was only a matter of time before Blake Morrison came to my rescue, just as he did in 2016, when he delivered a public lecture at the University of Leicester. I had never been in a lecture theatre before, and that experience prompted me to apply for the MA in Creative Writing. That course eventually led to my first published pieces and, later, to a PhD.
Few writers can move so effortlessly between forms and make each book into a captivating narrative, but Morrison is one of them. I repeatedly come back to this moment in the story, the moment that shaped my growth as a writer. Three of Morrison’s works – Too True (1998), a collection of essays; The Last Weekend (2010), a novel; and Two Sisters (2023), a memoir – have made him one of the most important writers in my life. His latest book, On Memoir: An A-Z of Life Writing has further shaped my thinking. For me, it may well be the most significant of all his works. It’s not a rule-book or a teaching textbook, but a set of ideas, examples and suggestions assembled as an A-Z. The book’s categories run from "Addiction" all the way to "Zzz," prompting Morrison’s dry observation: "Unless it’s a guidebook for insomniacs, no writer wants to send people to sleep."
Morrison discusses the mechanics of the form in a way that will reach every reader. As I devote myself to writing creative nonfiction, I have been guided – much like Morrison – by the work of other writers. "Writers find their way through other writers. They’re looking to be themselves but can’t get there on their own," says Morrison. By examining writers ranging from Samuel Pepys to Tim Lott, Maggie Nelson and Jenn Ashworth, the book reflects on the challenges of creative nonfiction and explores why the genre matters.
Introduce this book in a Creative Writing class and it is likely to go off like a hand grenade, particularly through its discussions of plagiarism, offence, sex, and vengeance. Morrison has never been afraid to broach difficult subjects, as readers of his book on the James Bulgar murder case will know. Then again, as Morrison says, "Upsetting people is part of the business." Morrison has taught me not to fear the lethal shrapnel, and On Memoir can be our body armour.
Dr Lee Wright holds a PhD from the University of Leicester in Creative Non-Fiction and has had numerous pieces of short fiction and non-fiction published.
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