When we think of memoir—literally, “a memory”—we often think of stories that take place in the distant past, that are concerned with what Sven Birkerts calls “getting hold of vanished experience.” But what happens when we’re trying to get hold of experience that isn’t vanished, but all too present? What about memoir that chronicles a more recent history, or that follows a writer through a moment in real time? How do we stay ahead of the story? And how do we separate life from art?