Writing Your True Story

The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly 

of Writing Memoir

Writing memoir is like being the hero in a B-rated western. There you are in the opening scene riding across a vast rugged landscape. You made the choice and marked your map to get you through the three famous passes you must cross to where success, like a distant mirage, glints on the horizon. 

You’ve heard the tales of those who have gone before, legends brought back of skeletons on the trail of those who gave up too soon or went ill-equipped, warning signs right before the second pass where it gets bad fast and you must climb over rocks and the rubble of self-doubt so endless it can cause even the heartiest to tremble. 

Everyone says you must go prepared or you’ll meet the same fate, sitting on the porch and regretting a lack of legacy, something lasting to prove existence during a particular time and place in history that perhaps made some sort of difference. 

And so, you must pack your saddlebags with the right essentials because writing memoir means coming face to face with the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The First Pass: THE GOOD PART 

This is when you decide to write your memoir because practically everyone has said you should. Your life has been interesting, they say, and there is no one quite like you, and it is sure to be a best seller. And it’s tempting to be a hero. Why not?

An opportune time comes; you decide the writing life is for you. This choice might come after you read a memoir and say to y0urself, “I could write one better.”  As a writer, you can sit in a local cafe or empty park bench or even at home and write your story, your personal truth that everyone seems to be clamoring for, and that story can be your legacy. 

So, you get out old trunks and dig through scrapbooks, take down boxes from garage shelves to sort through photos, and you reminisce. Why, there’s a treasure trove right there, bits and pieces of you, perfect to add to your collection—the love you lost, the locket you found, the trip you took, the prize you won, the crazy uncle, the tender-hearted aunt who took in a lonely sailor— and you enroll in a class, perhaps outline or storyboard an idea, join a critique group, and you dabble in writing, feeling really good about yourself and your goal, and you fantasize what it will be like to see your book in print or maybe as a movie and seeing yourself as indeed the hero of your own story. 

You’re in love with the product-to-be even though you’re not quite yet into loving the process that much. You decide on a writing schedule. You buy a ream of paper. After all, how difficult can it be to tell your life story? And it is great fun telling everyone you meet that you’re writing a memoir, and it’s a pleasure learning in class about story structure, concrete nouns, action verbs, literary elements, voice, and tone. All you have to do is follow instructions, right?  Memoir, after all, is all about you, so what’s not to like?  You simply have to excavate a story, recall personal events from the past, check Wikipedia to verify important facts, jot down anecdotes, and try to assemble it into some sort of coherent theme. Why doesn’t everyone choose the literary life? Memoir is a popular genre and magazines are asking for personal essays, and everyone has told you to sit down and do it.

You love the idea; it’s all good. 

The Second Pass: THE BAD PART 

The day comes when no one takes you seriously any more. How long does it take to write a memoir anyway? Weren’t you working on that last year? Are you still in that same class? A bad feeling creeps in to steal your enthusiasm and destroy your resolve, and this usually happens about the time you really get serious with quite a few pages piled up. 

Didn’t people say that you have talent, that you have a story to tell and should tell it? Where did those people all go? You notice many class members are no longer showing up on a regular basis. And no one seems to care how your work is going; no one even asks about it anymore. The writing gig you’re committed to is now not as easy or rewarding as you thought it would be. Completing that first rough draft was difficult enough, and now you can see that it is plain awful, simply dreadful, garbage, in fact; and yet, you’ve been told, only the most persistent get that far. And so, you persist. It takes courage to not only reveal yourself but to revise and revise again and yet again. You must delete and add, change verbs, add sensory detail, develop characters, analyze the plot arc, make better word choices, think about your transitions and turning points, make readers care, and you don’t get any praise for any of that and . . . well, no one ever said writing memoir was that hard, or that memoir is actually an art form, and in order make it good art, you must dig deep into your heart and soul. No one ever warned you that it can be downright brutal and keep you awake nights as you delete entire scenes that don’t move the story forward or reveal character . . . and you really are not having one bit of fun talking so much about yourself and disclosing your flaws, but you stick and stay and grind it out, one word at a time, and then . . . at last, one day it’s finished. But you have doubts.

The Third Pass: THE UGLY PART 

By now, at this part in your journey, you have a completed manuscript; however, right away, you begin to beat yourself up about revealing too much or not revealing enough. You find typos in all the wrong places, flaws in your authorship, flaws in yourself — you’re no writer—and you’ve already sent the whole book to an agent or publisher you met at a conference because you heard it was good to network, and you didn’t query her the way you’re supposed to query so you are doomed and have no hope. Why did you waste all that time and energy and spend money on classes and conferences? And the competition is too great. Obviously, you’re out of your league. Write a memoir? Why did you even bother? Who on earth will ever want to read your badly written, boring, pitiful story? 

Or maybe you get your memoir published, one way or the other, and then you realize after a few minutes of sheer joy that you’re absolutely on your own. After all that work writing and persevering, there’s no fame or fortune in sight; the truth is no one is going to help you sell the damn thing, and you have five boxes of perfect bound new books going stale in the garage. Here’s where it gets ugly. You haven’t even given any thought of having a website or hiring a publicist, let alone writing a press release. No one told you the hard, cold truth that you, only you, are now in business and that business is being a writer and selling your book.

So, the bottom line is there’s the good, the bad, and the ugly about writing memoir. And that applies to not only what goes into the plotline of your memoir, it also describes the process of writing, publishing, and marketing your personal story.

And that takes persistence, stamina and the courage of a real hero. 

There is only one of you, and there has never been and never will be anyone exactly like you. That means you’re unique, and you have your own personal story within the context of all of history. Therefore, writing memoir is one of the most life-changing and creative journeys you can embark upon. Yes, it takes courage. I know. I’ve packed for the trail more than once and it’s not my first ride. I’ve earned my gold star and am armed to the teeth as an author, an educator, and a boutique publisher. I tutor and consult and speak before writer’s groups. I teach memoir writing in workshops and online and publish quality memoirs for deserving writers. With this easy-to-use guide, I’ll become your partner on the trail, and together we will embark upon an important, life-changing journey. 

Saddle up, partner. Let’s write!

-       MaryAnn Easley

You are not alone.