Turning Points, Not Tell-Alls
A memoir is not a biography; it’s a story that makes meaning from experience.
“I can’t understand why God wanted me to write it. All the time and effort I put into it…”
Nearly a year after I finished a manuscript for a client, she hired me to help her with another one. In the course of our conversation, she mentioned her previous project. I had spent nearly a year working with her ghostwriting and editing the project, culling stories, drawing out details, and organizing memories to develop a manuscript she hoped would help others in her shoes.
But she never published. Why? Because a close family member, who featured heavily in her journey and was originally supportive of the book, withdrew their approval. Now, she was struggling with what seemed like a wasted investment.
Fortunately, I had some insight for her.
Memoir Is About Meaning
I met Sherry Ward of Square Tree Publishing at a conference nearly two years ago. Her zeal for authors was infectious, and I quickly bought a copy of her book, Launching You. Packed with practical advice and inspiration for aspiring authors, one of her lessons stuck with me, because it’s one I repeat sometimes to my clients: sometimes writing your memoir isn’t about publishing; it’s about making your journey meaningful.
When I shared this with my client, she was relieved. “I kind of thought that might be the case,” she said.
Whether I’m talking to clients or giving talks, I always say this: books almost always deal with problems: in nonfiction, the author helps the readers solve a problem; in fiction, readers vicariously experience how a protagonist faces their problems; and in memoir, the author traces her journey of dealing with a life issue.
No one escapes difficulties. That’s why – when told well – stories are one of the most powerful forms of communication.
To see what I mean by “told well,” let’s look at another example.
Stories Need Friction, But…
Several years ago, another client came to me for developmental editing after he finished his manuscript. His story was interesting; he’d had many experiences, any one of which would’ve been a life-changing event in and of itself. His story also had lots of friction, which can be good… but it was too much.
One thing we discussed is an issue a lot of memoirists have: he tried to include every difficult moment he’d experienced because that was his reality.
Unfortunately, including everything that’s ever happened to you—well, that can undermine a good story.
In Shawn Coyne’s Story Grid, which teaches a method for novel writing, one of his key tenets is that without friction, the story doesn’t move. Key scenes should involve a decision, conscious or unconscious—the protagonist wants one thing, someone or something else is pushing in a different direction.
That is not to say your memoir should be chock-full of momentous decisions and dramatic, life-altering events, though. There could be low-key conversations, a song on the radio during your daily commute home, or the hint of a scent that brings a wave of nostalgia. Just make sure that whatever you include represents a nudge in your journey. For the narrative, your choice must change your course – even if ever so slightly.
Does that mean background information isn’t important? That you can’t discuss events or incidents that give context to a character or situation?
Of course not.
But just like tires on a road, a story needs the right amount of friction to move the narrative forward. Too little friction and your story spins its wheels. Too much and your reader gets exhausted trying to move through the book.
Another Set of Eyes
How do you know what’s enough?
Whether your style is fast-paced or slow-burn, when you include a memory or explanation in your memoir, it should answer one of three criteria:
- This changed me.
- This changed my direction.
- This gives context as to why/how something or someone provided a nudge on my journey.
But as with fiction and often even nonfiction authors (and perhaps even more so!), memoir authors are close to their manuscripts. They tend to be emotionally—very emotionally—invested.
This can make it difficult, if not impossible at times, for you to see which events blaze and refine your memoir’s narrative track, and which derail it.
Because of this, getting an objective third party who has expertise and empathy can make the difference between a collection of events connected only by the fact that they happened to the same person… and a worthwhile, purposeful book that inspires and motivates the reader.
Not Just the Process, but Processing
Getting back to my client who didn’t publish: she has been able to move on. Putting her story into words, even though they will never be public, helped her process a major part of her life that had caused her a lot of pain.
That’s what a memoir should do. Whether just for you or for you and your reader, it should work through a process of struggle and growth.
Because those things belong to us all. Your story isn’t just your story—it’s a version of the human experience. And when you find meaning in your memoir, so will your readers.