there once was an autobiography . . .

Nancy Chadwick, Memoir Writer

x4thblvdkicks-jpg-pagespeed-ic-ccvycxw7nfI had an autobiography. I wanted a memoir.

After years of chronicling my life experiences from girlhood to teens to adulthood, I had an autobiography. However, “One’s autobiography does not a memoir make!” I proclaimed in my essay, “I Called You a Memoir” published in the Magic of Memoir. I shared what I most remembered from my girlhood–white anklet socked feet fitting snuggly in red Mary Janes, wearing a navy dress, patterned in tiny white polka dots with an appliqué of paint brushes and an artist’s palette in primary colors at the hem–while posing for a photo on my first day of kindergarten. And I remembered marking my teen years with shaving my legs and applying makeup while undisturbed in the private confines of the upstairs bathroom. I accepted my adulthood in college, my first job at Leo Burnett advertising and subsequent jobs in advertising before moving on to work…

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