You can hear Nancy Aronie cheer you on to be the best writer possible in her compelling new book, “Seven Secrets to the Perfect Personal Essay.” Both in person and on the page, Aronie bubbles with sincere enthusiasm, wit, and warmth — all of which come across as she shares her seven secrets, which she has come to over her lifetime of writing, reading, and more than 40 years of teaching.
One of Aronie’s core beliefs is how writing about our mini or large traumas is a way to heal both emotionally and physically: “Yes, sorrow and keeping your story inside affect your health. Telling or writing your story and having it be listened to, acknowledged, received is healing.”
Nestled within Aronie’s seven secrets is a treasure trove of personal essays that reflect how a particular secret works. Virtually all of them were written by people who have taken one of Aronie’s workshops. They were created in 20 minutes in response to a prompt, or as a homework assignment that wasn’t edited.
The pieces are little gems that can inspire you to write, and even more so when Aronie adds a related prompt at their end for us to use. In each chapter, she also gives her take on one of the essays, providing keen insight into how she “knows” when something works.
Aronie tells us to “Kill ’em with the first line” in “Secret One: Start with a Compelling First Statement.” Peter Meyer’s essay, “A Holy Bagel,” does just that: “There I sat, as far from the altar, the priest, and that wafer as I could. To my right sat my girlfriend and her sweet and authentic family, even though, shhhhh! I’m a Jew being held temporarily captive in a church for Christmas Mass! To my left sat true believers listening intently to the word of God. I steadfastly ignored them.”
It leaves you wanting to read on, right?
“Secret Two” is closely related: “Introduce a Dramatic Scene” — make us want to know what happens next.
In “Tangier, 1969,” Ellenora Cage thrusts us into a tale about the devolution of her mother. We meet her dressed in purple suede go-go boots, carrying a struggling baby goat, thinking it will be a good family pet. Eventually, her mother falls three stories through electric wires that soften her fall into a dumpster full of glass Clorox bottles. But it’s the last line that will leave you gasping for its brilliance.
A shattering essay, “Sorry Your Brain Broke. Here’s a Casserole,” opens “Secret Three, Discover and Reveal a New Insight About Yourself.” The author, Judith Hannah Weiss, begins, “In my first life, I parked one word next to the other, and they stayed where I put them.” She draws us into how her mightily successful freelance writing career, let alone her life, was utterly upended when a drunk driver stole a truck and compressed a parked car with her in it. She takes us on an intimate journey into what it was like to try and put her life together after her brain “broke”: “Words start coming back. Just not the right words at the right time … I need 12 words for a thought, and I have five.”
Toward the end, Weiss asks, “Is there a certain number of memories my damaged brain can hold? Does making new memories push old memories out? If so, could we make a deal? I won’t ask to make new memories if you’ll let me keep the old ones. Maybe ten or five, or two?”
“Be Vulnerable” is “Secret Four,” a core one for Aronie: “I’m big on this one. My preference is that I want to feel something.”
Susan Joyner launches us into what we know will be quite the tale: “My mother was full of salt, shaking it into my wounds of inadequacy … She was the unofficial editor of my life. An ‘A’ paper from school met her red pen, and I went from writer to failure.” Her continual criticism made Joyner abandon her plans to be an English major — “making it seem a sham, so I switched to psychology and chemistry, where I felt safer from the pen.”
In the end, Joyner writes of being her own editor, “trying to remove all my many unacceptable parts.” She recognizes that her mother’s behavior stems from her father’s harsh words, and that she must take responsibility for freeing herself from this toxic familial legacy.
The remaining secrets are incorporating direct quotes, constructing a three-part narrative, and exploring a universal theme, with equally strong examples and intriguing prompts. Any given essay doesn’t have to have all seven elements, but Aronie points out that a powerful opening sentence is universal; otherwise the reader won’t go further.
She says about knowing when something works: “It’s emotional. Not cerebral. I’m learning something new. I’m ready to cry. I’m laughing out loud. I want to know everything this writer has written. I’m left wanting more, and my gut goes, ‘Amazing.’”
Aronie concludes by emphasizing how all of us have stories that are different. But once we know someone’s story, it becomes harder to see them as separate from us. “We all just want to be understood … I’m hoping reading these different pieces and writing some of your own has reminded you that compassion has always been your first language.”
Ultimately, Aronie hopes the book will inspire readers to write to the prompts and keep going, and, she adds, “that they love these stories the way I do!”
Chock-full of compelling writing, Aronie’s and that of others, “Seven Secrets to the Perfect Personal Essay” is a beautiful read whether you are toying with the idea of putting pen to paper (or fingertips to keyboard), wishing to refine your craft, or simply want to gain insight into what makes good writing work.
“Seven Secrets to the Perfect Personal Essay,” by Nancy Slonim Aronie. Available at Edgartown Books, Bunch of Grapes, Off Main, and Grey Barn. Aronie and contributors will appear on Dec. 5 at 7 pm at the Grange Hall.
