Updated: Dec 29, 2020
I want to begin this post with a heartfelt congratulations to anyone who is not a writer by training or profession but who is attempting to write a book—any kind of book. Writing is hard. That’s not an original thought; it is a well-known fact that writing is a difficult process, even for those who have an education that focused on writing or who have written throughout their career. Simply being comfortable with good grammar and having excelled in school with book reports and the infamous five-paragraph essay are just the most basic building blocks for creating book-length prose.
Fortunately, I had a knack for stringing together interesting sentences and compelling paragraphs at a relatively young age. Math and science? Meh. My university majors of Mass Communications and English were the only two tracks that made any sense to me, at least at that time.
But for the last three months or so, I have been tasked with ghostwriting a memoir for a man with whom I have nothing in common; a middle-aged man of color, a retired Army veteran with twenty-one years of service, three deployments to Iraq, a traumatic brain injury and severe PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). I cannot personally relate to any aspect of who he is or what he’s been through. But I’m determined to do his service and sacrifice justice, tell his story with empathy, and let his experiences produce a survival guide for others in similar circumstances. That is my promise to him and to myself.
I have a habit of starting my blog posts with a personal story that in my mind is connected to the true topic of the post. I’m doing it here again. I am struggling with this ghostwriting in a way I’m unfamiliar with. I spend an hour at a time staring at pages of notes I’ve transcribed from this man’s audio recordings, trying to make sense of his war experiences, timelines, injuries, and challenges in retirement so I can organize them in a way that will make an inspiring read.
Recently, I asked a social media memoir-writing group why it has taken some of them years to write their memoirs. I will add, the way in which I worded the question put some of them on the defensive, because they felt I was implying that a memoir is something they should be able to crank out in a few months. Even though it was a misreading of my intent, I apologized. But I do believe that if all aspects of the writing process are perfectly in place, they could produce a good first draft in a matter of months, not years. In other words, in a perfect world, they could. But few of them are writing in a perfect world.
My post garnered about eighty original comments plus comments about comments. From these, I identified four issues at play for those who say they have been writing their memoirs for anywhere from two to ten years. These are the recurring obstacles:
The writers are creating book-length prose for the first time and have no formal training or career experience with extensive writing projects, so they are learning how to write as they go. And the struggle is taking time.
The memoir is dealing with traumatic events in their lives, such as disease, abuse (physical and sexual), addiction, suicide attempts, and mental illness, causing the writer to unpack this baggage slowly and painfully.
Other aspects of life are interfering with their writing: full-time jobs, children, school, or family issues such as caring for elderly parents.
They have no support or are facing active resistance (including threats) from ex-partners, spouses, family members, or others who might appear in the memoir.
The other issue that emerged is that some of them are frustrated and unhappy about how long it’s taking to finish, while others don’t care and have an “it takes as long as it takes” attitude. I’m trying to formulate a process that will help the ones who really want to get their memoirs finished, either because they just want to be done with it or because, more importantly I think, they have a story to tell that they know will be helpful to others in similar situations. They desire to “do good” for others with their memoirs. I want to produce a formula that will guide those who are already writing as well as those who are still thinking about it.
Looking at the list of challenges for these folks, I plan to write a series of blog articles that will address each one, with the hope of helping writers make progress and get off the fence about starting their personal stories. My agenda looks like this:
Resources to provide training and guidance with writing skills. I can’t teach talent, but a collection of books, websites, and online courses to improve your writing are achievable tasks.
Determining if you are ready to write your memoir. This might sound contrary to helping someone produce a memoir, but I feel strongly that the writer must be able to determine if they are truly ready to write about trauma. Or if it’s just too soon.
Learning to manage your time to make writing a habit in your life. Many authors have documented their techniques for making the writing process part of their daily routine. I’ll share them.
Dealing with the ramifications of resistance to your writing. I cannot fix personal problems and I will not disregard your fears, but I’ll collect some personal and basic legal advice that might give you comfort.
Like many of you, I will write these blog articles as I can after my work and personal obligations are complete. Let’s see how I do.
Updated: Nov 3, 2021
I edit and do manuscript assessments for a living. I also coach a couple of young creative writers on the side, in a voluntary capacity. Creative writing is not my thing; I know that and they know that. I have only ever written short (and very short) stories. I am not particularly good at coming up with interesting plots. I can think of cool characters and I can write beautifully detailed descriptions. But an interesting plot? Not my forte.
I know just enough about the elements of fiction and creative nonfiction to be dangerous:
Plot (conflict, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution)
Theme (the point of the story)
Characters
Setting
Description
Dialogue
Some creative writers have the coolest ideas for plots. And awesome characters. But two of these elements often take a hit: description and dialogue. At the start of 2019, I wrote two blog articles about using descriptive language, Writing Sensory Description Part 1 and Part 2. I reminded writers to help their readers not just see but also hear, taste, smell, and touch their surroundings, as well.
Idol Chitchat, The Devil’s Playground
Lately, my novice writers have presented me with drafts of romance and murder mystery manuscripts. And, consistently, the weakest element has been their dialogue. Idol chitchat. Small talk. Pointless prattling. The dialogue serves no discernible purpose—and it must.
So, let’s have a dialogue about…dialogue.
Make It Matter
Fight the urge to write dialogue that is nothing more than a mundane exchange. As I said, I often read boring conversations in manuscripts I’m editing or critiquing. I’ve never asked a writer why they’ve written dialogue like this:
I saw him walking toward me. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he replied. “How are you?”
“Good,” I answered. “How about you?”
“I’m OK,” he said. “Whatcha doing?”
“Nothing much. Just hanging out,” I replied. “You?”
“Same.”
Ugh. I have my own theory as to why people write dialogue this pointless. I think it’s an attempt, consciously or subconsciously, to present authentic or realistic conversation. But, really, I’m guessing. I mean, I know people have pointless exchanges like this in real life. At least, I know I do. But just because people do speak this way, it does not mean you should create this kind of dialogue in your prose.
(In memoir, I think people include dialogue like this because this is what was said. It’s real. But every verbal exchange does not need to be recounted 100% accurately, especially if it results in dialogue like this.)
Every element of creative writing serves a specific purpose. Getting most of them right will not make a great book. The best books nail all the elements. A great storyline will be derailed by one-dimensional characters whose presence you don’t understand, flat dialogue that doesn’t make sense, or a lack of setting that would help you envision and feel a part of every scene.
The Four Functions of Dialogue
So, back to dialogue. Here is the simple truth. Properly written dialogue performs four functions:
Provides information
Exposes emotion
Advances the plot
Reveals something about a character
Some lists I've seen include up to ten functions, but these are the Big Four. If you have written dialogue that you cannot, in all honesty, say performs at least one of these functions, toss it. My business motto is “Every word of every sentence matters.” This includes dialogue—it must be there for a good reason.
Dialogue never exists for its own purpose.
Dialogue as Narrative
Dialogue is a form of narrative conveyed as speech between two or more characters. Narrative is an account of what’s happening in a story. Narrative is used to set the scene, describe the surroundings, give insight into a character, throw in a plot twist, present foreshadowing, and so on. All of this can be accomplished through dialogue, too.
It Don’t Have to Be Right (Wink, Wink)
Dialogue does not have to be grammatically correct. It can and should read like actual speech. The “Whatcha doing?” from my example above is perfectly OK. That adds a touch of casualness, which, if the dialogue was vital and well constructed, would add realism. If you have created a character (or, in memoir, a person from your life) who has an accent or a peculiar speech pattern, breaking grammar rules to bring that character alive is acceptable. Beware though—handling vernacular well is trickier than it seems. You might end up with a one-dimensional stereotype.
Dialogue should be written to give readers details about a character in more clever and intriguing ways. Well-written dialogue can be used to describe appearance, race, gender, ethnicity, and even offer a glimpse into morality and ethics.
Just For Fun
Narrative, then dialogue as narrative.
He walked into the room. I was shocked to see his clothes were tattered, and he was thin and filthy.
Or…
He walked into the room and I stammered, “You sure have hit on hard times. How long has it been since the money I gave you ran out?”
He grimaced. “I’m keepin’ my shoes together with rubber bands and Elmer’s Glue. A rope’s holdin’ my pants up. I cain’t remember the last time I used soap. That’s how long.”
Updated: Jul 26, 2022
Let’s start at the very beginning, which I have heard is a very good place to start. To understand not only how to choose a theme for your memoir, you must understand why you need a theme for your memoir in the first place.
Does an autobiography need a theme? No. But aren't autobiography and memoir the same thing? No.
With my tongue firmly in my cheek, I blame bookstores for this confusion. I say this because bookstores, be they brick and mortar or online, lump memoirs and autobiographies together. Physically and conceptually, the two categories are joined at the hip. More than a handful of people have argued with me that the distinction is strictly semantic.
It is not.
Memoir Versus Autobiography—Again
If you hope to write a proper memoir, you must understand the core difference between memoir and autobiography:
An autobiography is the story of a life.
A memoir is a story from a life.
Memoirs often emerge from diaries or journals. Many memoir teachers I see online encourage you to use your diary or journal for this very reason. Other memoirists and teachers don’t approve of this. Here is my opinion, for what it’s worth: Do not structure a memoir to coincide with your journal entries. Remember, a memoir is not an autobiography. You should not attempt to document the whole of your life or even a large chunk of your life, which will be the tendency if you use a journal as a template.
The key to writing a really good memoir is to identify a really good theme that runs through some aspect of your life and focus solely on that.
What is a theme? Why is identifying one necessary? And how do I do it?
I’ll begin by quoting memoir teacher extraordinaire, Marion Roach Smith:
A memoir is not about you. It’s about something and you are its illustration.
A memoir is a story about something you know after something you’ve been through.
Let that first sentence sink in. “A memoir is not about you.” The best memoirs reveal how the writer changes as a person. Stories of transcendence.
Understanding Memoir Theme
Stories of transcendence? Like what? To begin to understand theme, first consider these generic theme categories:
• Accepting change
• Dealing with loss (job, marriage, friendship) or death
• Examining a career
• Surviving a dysfunctional family
• Overcoming a physical, mental, or emotional obstacle
• Triumphing over poverty or discrimination
Theme is a tough concept for first-time memoirists to wrap their heads around.
How do you know what might be a good theme for your memoir? Ask yourself these questions:
• Is there an episode in my life that changed me or altered my life’s path?
• Is there a person who significantly altered my life, personally or professionally?
• Was there a life event that haunts me and I can’t stop thinking about it?
• Have I experienced something traumatic/painful and found a way to rise above it?
As if identifying a theme for your memoir isn’t hard enough, let me throw another wrench in the works: You should be able to summarize your theme in one sentence that answers the question, “What is it about?”
Really, how is this possible, you ask? You have read the list of generic categories above. To help you conceptualize theme, here are some examples of specific, single-sentence memoir themes, which I totally made up:
• It’s about how my mother’s death from lung cancer at a young age caused me to quit smoking and become an anti-tobacco advocate. (It’s not about your mother’s death; it's about what you did with that experience to better the lives of others.)
• It’s about how becoming an empty-nester led me to open an art supply store and return to my love of painting. (It’s not about your kids leaving home and your sense of uselessness; it’s about how you found yourself again and gave your life new purpose.)
• It’s about a four-year slice of my life after my wife’s death during which I learned there is a silver lining to grief. (It’s not about your wife dying and your grief; it’s about opening your eyes and heart to new opportunities and relationships.)
• It’s about the year that one remarkable music teacher taught me to play the piano and put me on a path to a career as a composer. (It’s not about learning to play piano; it’s about how a caring teacher showed you a way to express beauty and thrill others through music.)
Final Thought
As I have said before in other blog posts, if you don’t have a clearly defined theme—which serves as a map on your memoir journey—you can find yourself wandering aimlessly throughout the entirety of your life. With a clearly defined theme—the lesson you learned from the experiences of your life—your writing stays on track and will impart to your readers the life lessons you want to share with them.
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.
