memoirs

Memoirs started to bother me recently.  The genre is fraud with opportunistic writers, who, perhaps due to a lack of confidence in their style, seek out the most outrageous stories to tell.  But I myself have often thought that I’d write a memoir someday about my childhood, which includes some taboo topics that have been either totally ignored or insufficiently discussed by writers in my childhood’s hometown.  The marketability of any relatively taboo topics: sex, incest, rape, etc. is of course, higher than say, spelling bees, basketball, flowers.  I am concerned with the potential reality that I may come to abuse too much the taboo-ness of my story, though it is an experience that had affected my being in profound measures and I want it to be told.  I am concerned also that I will treat the telling like some sort of philanthropic deed, because if I ever decide to realize and succeed in realizing this writing project, I want it to firstly, be mine.