A memoir without a thought-provoking takeaway for the reader (a resolution, in writing terminology) is like a movie that ends with a cliff-hanger or a mystery novel that remains unsolved in the final chapter. What is the point? To think that a memoir doesn’t need a point is to miss the unique characteristic of memoir entirely.
Memoirists as Teachers
Memoirists are—or should be—teachers. I don’t mean teachers in the traditional sense of someone who stands before an assembled group in a classroom to offer instruction in a subject area, like geometry or chemistry or English composition. A memoirist teaches a lesson they have learned from the experiences of their life. A personal lesson but with a universal connection—that’s the key!
A memoir is not the recounting of stuff that happened to you. Stuff happens to everybody. A proper memoir must contain reflection; time and distance between the events told in the memoir and the time of the writing are required to allow for the author’s insightful recounting as to the meaning of those events and the transcendence they created in the author’s life. No meaning, no memoir. No transcendence, no memoir. No takeaway for the reader, no memoir.
What Lesson Will You Share?
In my opinion, there is an element of altruism to memoir writing. At least, that’s how I explain it. A focus on something other than yourself. This is the subtlety of memoir that so many writers fail to comprehend. A quote I have included in at least three other blog articles I’ve written, the words of memoir expert Marion Roach Smith, is the basis for this opinion:
Memoir is not about you. It’s about something and you are its illustration.
Think about this. Your memoir is not about you! Does this conflict with what you think a memoir is?
Are You Ready to Write a Memoir?
In another blog article I wrote titled Is It Time to Write Your Memoir? I stress the importance of allowing yourself time to process your life experiences and see them as objectively as possible; reflect (that word again) and honestly decide if you have learned anything from what you’ve been through. If you can only feel pain or anger or regret, and you can’t articulate whether you have gone through a transcendence (that word again) and come out the other side enlightened, I contend you are not ready to write a memoir.
Keeping a journal to work through feelings and analyze how and why things happened as they did and the effect it had on you is a wise first step in visualizing how you have learned, changed, and grown from your experiences. I talk more about this in another of my articles, Writing About Trauma. Until you have an a-ha moment—a moment of sudden insight, comprehension, or discovery—it will be enormously difficult to write a memoir with a clear theme, the lesson you will share with your reader.
If done properly, the writing of a memoir is a gift the author offers to their audience—the people the author most wants to read their book—because those are the people the writer most wants to help and guide through a personal storm. As the author has emerged from the turbulence of abuse, divorce, grief, or addiction, for example, they have chosen to share their journey and explore the path that brought them to a place of peace, triumph, happiness, or even just acceptance of their reality.
Are you ready to create such a gift?
Memoir, a subgenre of creative nonfiction, is often the home of stories of trauma. As I point out in my blog post Writing About Trauma: What Memoir Is and Isn’t, memoir has a bad reputation for being all about trauma. It’s an unfair assessment. Yet, as a memoir writing coach and editor, I do find that the majority of my clients want to write a memoir about emotional pain, loss, grief, addiction, disease, or toxic relationships.
My personal feelings are that people are more motivated to share the negative aspects of their lives (rather than the good times) because those are the experiences they have reflected on and learned from the most. This is true of my own life. I have spent much of the past three and a half years analyzing my failed second marriage. From that failure, from that disappointment and emotional pain, I have learned more about myself than at any other time in my life. I could not have become who I am now—someone I am happy with and proud of—if not for that experience. Maybe there’s a memoir in my own future.
Mass Trauma—It’s a Thing
I’m compelled to write a second time about addressing trauma because I have heard more and read more about trauma in the last two years than the previous twenty combined. And the reason? The pandemic. Globally, COVID has sickened more than 393 million and killed almost 6 million, as of this writing. No one in the world—literally no one—has remained unaffected by COVID’s impact. Subsequently, health experts on TV, radio, podcasts, social media, and in writing have been forced to discuss the worldwide fallout with terms like mass trauma, collective trauma, and traumatic stressor event.
Trauma, once most often the psychologically painful side effect for war veterans, survivors of domestic violence and rape, serious accidents, natural disasters, harassment, witnessing violence, and the like, has driven tens of millions of US citizens to seek mental health counseling and medication for the first time in their lives. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, was first added to the bible of mental health disorders, the DSM (Diagnostic Statistical Manual), in 1980 primarily as a descriptor for the mental health challenges faced by military veterans, particularly those who served in the Middle East. My father served in World War II. He definitely suffered from PTSD, then referred to as combat fatigue or battle shock. Upon returning from Europe in 1945 at the end of the war, he received no treatment and no counseling. And he never fully recovered.
Trauma, whether we like it or not, has become a household word—a mental health problem that knows no boundaries among class or color or gender or ethnicity. However, as I stated at the beginning of this, the dark experiences of our lives tend to be the ones we reflect on and learn from the most.
Therapeutic Journaling Can Help
Have you been journaling during the past two years? I wrote about the mental health benefits of therapeutic journaling a while back. This practice became more popular than ever during the last two years. Have you documented the day-to-day challenges you faced on your own, or as a parent, employee, employer, or caregiver? What lessons from this unprecedented time in our history will we learn and share for our children and future generations to help them navigate the difficult challenges life throws at us?
What have you learned about yourself since early 2020? Is there a memoir about survival, creativity, or transformation in you? Let me know in a comment. And take care.
In addition to working as a nonfiction and creative nonfiction editor and writing coach, I am co-author, with Dr. Terri Lyon, of the book Make a Difference with Mental Health Activism: No activism degree required—use your unique skills to change the world. Visit my website page Make a Difference and Dr. Lyon’s activism website Life At The Intersection to learn more about Make a Difference, including how to place bulk orders.
I’m going to say something controversial, so stick with me. Here goes.
Many of the problems that first-time memoir writers struggle with are the result of a simple truth—they don’t fully understand what memoir is!
There. I said it.
Many people writing memoir don’t actually understand what a memoir is supposed to be or do. The formula for writing a good memoir is relatively simple, but most novice memoirists make it more complicated than it needs to be.
I am a writing coach and editor who specializes in memoir. I chose memoir as my specialty because I had read that it is an oft-misunderstood subgenre of an oft-misunderstood genre, creative nonfiction. I took that as a challenge!
Through my years of learning what memoir is and isn’t (it’s not autobiography, for one thing), understanding its intricacies, and mastering the art of its structure, I always begin by asking a potential client the same simple-sounding question:
What is your memoir about?
But the question is at once simple and complex. The correct way to answer this question is the concept that trips up most of my memoir clients. Why? Because people always answer this question by telling me their plot, not their theme.
“Huh? Plot. Theme. What’s the difference?”
Understanding the difference is essential to writing a good memoir with minimal anguish and maximum success. I talked about this in my post Thinking About Writing a Memoir? Read This First.
Memoir Theme and Plot are Different
Get ready. This will be on the test.
Theme is what a memoir is about.
Plot is how the theme is conveyed.
Clear as mud? It must be, because despite many books and articles being written about the distinction, it is a confusion that persists among memoir writers and, I’m sorry to say, even many memoir editors.
So here is another explanation of theme in a nutshell.
What is the theme of your memoir? It is your argument.
In writing, an argument is the claim you make that you then have to support. (In academic writing, it’s called a thesis.) An argument is a line of reasoning, backed by evidence, that proves a point.
Knowing where to begin your memoir and where to end it is easy-peasy to decide if you know what argument you will present in your memoir and include only the stories that illustrate that argument.
Any clearer? I hope you’re nodding your head vigorously.
Why does having a theme matter in a memoir? Why can’t you just write about your life and talk about whatever is weighing on you, or gnawing at you, or that you want to brag about? You absolutely can! But then it’s not a memoir.
If what you want (or need) to write about is some aspect of your life that has caused you trauma, pain, or grief, or brought you happiness, joy, a clearer sense of self, success, or true love, then, by all means, do it. Write it. But what you are writing is likely more of a therapeutic journal or a series of interconnected personal essays.
If you really want to write a memoir that people will read all the way through, there must be a point to the story you’re telling.
Your personal story must impart a universal lesson that others can relate to, and reveal something you learned that you share with readers to enlighten, soothe, or benefit them.
The Definition of Memoir
Here’s a great time to restate, for the umpteenth time, the ultimate definition of memoir, according to Memoir Maven Marion Roach Smith:
Your memoir is not about you. It’s about something and you are its illustration.
My blog post How to Choose a Memoir Theme states this clearly, and I’ve repeated it in one or two (or three) other blog posts. And yet, I feel the need to say it again, because it is the single most important aspect of writing a cohesive, enjoyable memoir.
Common Memoir Stumbling Blocks
When I begin to coach a memoir client, these are the comments I hear most often:
I don’t know how to start. When (or how) should I start my story?
I can’t decide which stories to include. How much of my life should I write about?
I don’t know how to end the book. When (or how) should I finish my story?
These questions are easy to answer when you understand the purpose of a memoir and have a clearly defined theme.
When I’ve been hired to edit a memoir manuscript, these are the two questions my clients most often ask:
Is it too long?
Is it too short?
These, too, are easily answered questions when you have a clearly defined theme.
Writer: Is my memoir too short?
Me: Did you share all the stories that illustrate the theme of your memoir? Did you start by setting up the memoir and showing the reader what’s at stake for you to deal with? And then tell the stories that explore this thoroughly? And conclude by bringing the journey to a resolution?
If you answer no to these questions, your memoir is incomplete. If you can answer yes to these questions, then your memoir is (probably) just right!
Writer: Is my memoir too long?
Me: Did you share stories that have nothing to do with your theme? Did you include stories that start long before the genesis of your theme? Did you include stories that go beyond the point of the resolution of your theme?
If you answer yes to these questions, then the memoir is too long. If you answer no to these questions, then your memoir is (probably) just right!
It’s Not About Memoir Word Length
You see, too short or too long is not about word count. It’s about exploring your theme by including stories that show your struggle, failures, successes, and growth, and ending by showing the reader that you will be OK. Maybe your problem isn’t actually fixed—your marriage still ends, despite your efforts you can’t help a loved one deal with their mental illness, because of your health you will have to close your business after all. But your resolution demonstrates that you have accepted your situation and you can move forward, stronger, wiser, and with a clear purpose.
Are you ready to write your memoir? Let me help you make that happen.
In addition to working as a nonfiction and creative nonfiction editor and writing coach, I am co-author, with Dr. Terri Lyon, of the book Make a Difference with Mental Health Activism: No activism degree required—use your unique skills to change the world. Visit my website page Make a Difference and Dr. Lyon’s activism website Life At The Intersection to learn more about Make a Difference, including how to place bulk orders.