Memoir writing process Archives

Here’s the One Word Holding You Back from Writing or Completing Your Memoir—

June 23, 2026 by Rosanne Ullman

Young woman hiding her face behind a black trash bag

And one sentence that will motivate you to start again.

Doubts are familiar territory to memoir authors, and they can occur at any and all points in the process. You’re either hoping to start writing your memoir, in the middle of writing it, or finished and maybe in the editing, publishing or marketing stage. Even if you’re in that final phase, you may be doubting whether anyone will want to read your story, and that uncertainty and insecurity can stop you in your tracks and keep you from completing your memoir. I am going to share the secret sentence that will motivate you to continue, and I’ll try to get you over the one word holding you back from connecting your memoir to readers. Just one word has the power to freeze you mid-project.

Alone or Not?

We live our lives in isolation in the sense that we know only our own truth. Our reality is ours alone; each of us has a separate and distinct existence with experiences that are unique because they happen in a moment at a location with specific people and, most of all, to that one human that we know as “me.”

But how many people are out there in the world? More than 8 billion. They’re all human, all somewhere between birth and death, many living under conditions similar to yours. There’s no reason to feel small; we each account for one important person in that sea of humanity. But there is a reason to pause and think about our uniqueness.

The Birthday Problem

A little math. I’m no math whiz and don’t understand why what I’m about to tell you is true, so hang in there with me. What’s referred to as the “birthday problem” illustrates how coincidences are more likely than we intuitively expect. This first part is easy math: with 365 days in the year, the chances are only 1 in 365 that a random person you meet shares your birthday. And yet it takes only 23 random people in a room to increase those odds to 50 percent that two will have the same birthday. It’s a paradox involving probability and various mathematical concepts too advanced for my little brain. But there it is, just 23 people for it to be 50/50 that you might run into someone with your birthday.

With that in mind, think about whatever is your biggest reveal in your memoir. Is that what’s making you doubt the desirability of your story? It may be a family secret or an avoidable mistake or an embarrassing medical condition. Perhaps your book is the first time you’ve shared your story with anyone, much less everyone. Now think of the 8 billion people and the birthday paradox. Certainly someone out there has been through what you’ve been through.

And that relatability is one reason you’re writing the memoir, right? Because somewhere in your mind you know that people will not only empathize but relate to the way you’ve faced your challenges. That’s the whole point for some memoir authors: to help the next person facing the same difficulties.

Finally, the Reveal

So the sentence that will motivate you to keep writing is this: You are not unique. You are not alone in this. Other people recognize your struggles. They’ve experienced them or know someone who has. And the word that will free you if you neutralize it is: Shame. There is no shame in however you handled a situation. There is no shame in the fact that something terrible happened to you or someone did something offensive to you.

Without making sweeping generalizations, I think the shame can play out differently for men as compared with women. Jordan Ritter Conn’s new book, American Men, follows the stories of four men who hadn’t previously let their guard down to talk about their challenges. Conn concludes that men don’t like feeling, much less showing, vulnerability. They compartmentalize, shove thoughts away from their conscious thinking, never talk about aspects of themselves even to the people they love most. Back to coincidences, actor Andrew McCarthy also has a new book—Who Needs Friends: An Unscientific Examination of Male Friendship Across America—that tackles more or less the same topic.

Women have been conditioned to feel ashamed of all sorts of things. If they were sexually assaulted, it can become a big secret and they even can feel responsible for causing the crime by, for example, letting a man in their house. They can feel ashamed of sexual feelings of any variety, or of having ambition, failing as a mother, succeeding in a nontraditional industry, and on and on. Men can have shame around these same issues, and with their fear of vulnerability it can be doubly tough to get past the shame.

In Good Company

Writing a memoir is therapy. It helps you cut through shame. It gets you comfortable with feeling vulnerable. And when readers assure you that you’re not unique in the experiences you describe, you’ll feel a freedom that will be worth every minute you’ve spent writing.

What Category of Writer is a Memoir Author?

May 31, 2026 by Rosanne Ullman

room of people writing on laptops and notepaper

All categories. That’s the hard part.

Memoir is an identified genre, but when you examine the process you see that this genre sources writing from many others. So when you ask yourself what category of writer you should be acting as in order to write a solid memoir, you may have to answer: all of them.

Well, not all. Children’s lit, horror, fantasy—there probably are others as well that don’t play much into memoir. But many do. Still, memoir is unique, and borrowing from other genres doesn’t mean letting them take control.

Diary

First, of course, you’re writing stories from your life. So in a way, you’re letting readers peek into your diary. Let that influence you to stay raw, honest and vulnerable.

But you’re not a diarist; you’re a memoir author. You won’t be giving readers anything close to a day-by-day account of your life. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you have to include more than necessary to stay on your theme. Choose your stories carefully.

Some authors even use the structure of a diary for their memoir, but I think in most cases a memoir does not benefit from the diary structure. It makes me think the author chose the format just because it’s easier.

Fiction

Memoir authors can be surprised when their book starts sounding a lot like a novel. That’s a good thing. It should read that way, with devices from fiction like dialogue, description and character development. It can have suspense and foreshadowing, story arcs and time jumps, cliffhangers at the end of chapters.

But this is nonfiction. That means it has to be essentially true. The “essentially” part is that you aren’t expected to write a conversation in the exact words that were said at the time. Or if you describe what your dad was wearing, you can picture him in something he wore often and not feel an obligation to know whether he wore it on the day in question. But “essentially” also means you have to get the essence of the conversation right and capture the essence of the person you’re describing.

News Report

Instead of sounding like a novel, some chapters may sound more like a news report—a straightforward description of events. So part of the time you’re a reporter, providing readers with a detailed account of something that happened in your life. Like other journalism students, I learned the five W’s: who, what, where, when and why. There’s also how. Keep these in mind when describing what occurred.

Journalism students also learn how to make a story short and dry. Newspaper articles are, or at least were, cut from the bottom, so you have to get all of your important facts in at the beginning and let them proceed in diminished order from there. There’s no room for adjectives, either. Just report the facts.

That short-and-dry aspect has little bearing on memoir writing. Make your writing concise and don’t ramble, but certainly “dry” is not a description you want for your book. You can start anywhere, and you have license to indulge in description. Remember the “show, don’t tell” mantra, which is true for both news report and memoir. If you describe the events well, the reader will know how you’re feeling about them.

Feature Article

If a magazine or website did a profile on you, what would it say? It would have a theme and then support that theme with pertinent stories from your life. A memoir is kind of a very long feature article about you.

But it’s not quite that, because it’s written in more of a fiction format. The bigger difference, though, is that it’s from your point of view. It’s inherently biased, not objective. Since you’re writing it, you don’t have to balance the piece with other people’s opinions, good or bad, about you.

History/Textbook

Memoirs teach readers about all sorts of topics that surround the person’s life. Like any book or movie, it should increase the reader’s knowledge in addition to offering an entertaining story.

But when your memoir captures a time period or geographical location so comprehensively that sections morph into a class lecture, you’ve gone too far. I often remind memoir authors specifically that they’re not writing a textbook.

Op-ed

I also remind memoir authors who are using their book to make a point that this is a memoir, not an op-ed. Persuasive writing is a talent, but in a memoir it has to be under wraps a bit. You can be fighting for justice or promoting one side of a cause, but you have to fold that into your storytelling. You’re not writing a diatribe.

Humor

Not every memoir can have humor, but authors of even the darkest tales can find a way to lighten up between tough memories. It gives readers a break. If your memoir doesn’t cover a tragedy and is more upbeat, humor adds a compelling reason for readers to recommend it to friends.

Young Adult

Memoir writing can be intellectual and complex, and some memoir topics may be too mature for young minds. For the most part, though, memoir is perfect reading for teens. They can learn about a person and what life was like during the time period covered and within the culture described. So if you’re struggling to explain your life in the most highfalutin language, you may do better to dumb it down enough to keep the reading flowing.

More Ideas

There are lots of structures to choose from when you’re writing a memoir. Food can be an important element in your story, so maybe your book is a memoir/cookbook hybrid. Perhaps a home figured prominently in your life and you describe each room the way you might for an interior design magazine. Or your life may take place in so many locations that your memoir is part travelogue.

Wear as many writers’ hats as you need in order to craft the memoir you envision. You’re a memoir author. That means you’re hoping to be a master of multiple writing categories.

Motherhood in Memoir

May 11, 2026 by Rosanne Ullman

Rosanne Ullman with her mom at college graduation

You’ll probably mention it if you’ve ever been or had a mom.

Writing this on Mother’s Day (although posting the day after), I’m thinking of moms and motherhood and of course I’m always thinking about memoir. There’s a pretty significant intersection of these topics.

If you’re writing a memoir, your mother will make an appearance—a cameo at the very least. Even if your theme has nothing to do with your mom, if you’re marketing your book as a memoir you pretty much owe the reader some information on your background.

However, if your mother is truly a minor player in your life or not associated with your memoir theme, you can introduce her to readers in a chapter about your childhood and be done with it. You don’t have to devote multiple chapters to your early life or even mention when your parents died if it doesn’t really fit into your narrative. If you never knew your mother, be transparent about how that happened.

Starring Your Mom

But what if you want to focus on the mother-child relationship? That is a valid memoir theme. Sally Field’s memoir In Pieces tells a lot about Field’s own life but always comes back around to her role as daughter and the impact of her mom’s strengths and weaknesses. And, of course, the title of the bestseller I’m Glad My Mom Died indicates Jennette McCurdy’s complicated relationship with her mother.

Cher is another celebrity whose memoir supplies a lot of her perspective of her mother. It serves to demonstrate why second-generation talent has a better shot at success/stardom. Sometimes the most talented person in the family is the parent, but that parent has to focus on paying the bills. You often hear comedians say that their father was the funny one in their family. Never having had the support from their own parents, these parents of celebrities pour themselves into the promise of their children’s future.

So if you want to write a book as a tribute to your mom, go ahead. Still, write it as a memoir. Don’t write a biography of your unknown mother. Write it as your memories and reactions surrounding your relationship with her.

Many people use their memoir as a statement of their own truth about their upbringing, and sometimes that truth comes across harshly in recalling parents. Maybe you’re still in therapy decades after leaving home because of the harm your mother did to you. Is it okay to write about all of that? Yes. But if you’re aiming for a broad readership, your story will have to involve more than a long list of complaints.

When You’re the Mother

The other side of a motherhood memoir is written by the mother, not the child. Some people write memoirs to document their children’s illnesses or learning difficulties. That’s fine but, again, write it as a memoir, not as a biography of your child.

Now back to a twist on the original question—what if your memoir theme has nothing to do with your role as a mother? Should you still include the topic of motherhood? Whereas your childhood and the parenting you received shaped you as a person, that’s not true of the way you parent. So I would say this aspect of your life is not essential when the theme doesn’t touch on it, especially if your memoir largely takes place before you had children.

There’s a big “but” here, and that’s because you probably were emotionally affected by becoming a parent. When chronologically in your story you get to the year of having a child, I think it would be awkward not to mention it. Or at some point, refer to the family you raised. It’s nice to answer readers’ obvious questions and not leave them hanging.

These thoughts come around on Mother’s Day. And if you’ve lost a mom, as I long ago lost my mom pictured above with me, I hope you have good times to remember—and write about.

The Famous Kitchen Timer Method for Writing Motivation

April 7, 2026 by Rosanne Ullman

An ordinary white 60-minute kitchen timer

This technique guarantees that you will finish your memoir. In theory.

I always learn a lot from every memoir I read/listen to, but Lauren Graham’s I’m Talking as Fast as I Can supplied a little bonus information that has nothing to do with her life or memoir style. She wanted to pass along a 10-step writing motivation technique called the Kitchen Timer Method. After learning it from director/screenwriter Don Roos, Graham adopted it herself and says she never had another problem with procrastination, writer’s block or anything else that can keep writers from making progress.

This is how it goes, but of course below each step I have to add my two cents. The all-caps sections are original, not mine ever!

Buy a kitchen timer, one that goes to 60 minutes.
Me: Translation for 2026: know how to set your watch or phone alarm for one hour.
We decide on Monday how many hours of writing we will do Tuesday. When in doubt or under pressure or self-attack, we choose fewer hours rather than more. A good, strong beginning is one hour a day.
Me: I think this is a great idea. Rather than commit to a long-term calendar or plan even a week ahead day by day, wait until the day before. You’ll know your schedule and can somewhat anticipate any surprises that come up. This also lets you plan the rest of your life without much regard to your writing goal, because even if you schedule other things that day you know that you won’t set your writing time until all of those other plans are made.
The Kitchen Timer Hour:
No phones. No listening to the machine to see who it is. We turn ringers off if possible. It is our life; we are entitled to one hour without interruption, particularly from loved ones. We ask for their support. “I was on an hour” is something they learn to understand. But they will not respect it unless we do first.
No music with words, unless it’s a language we don’t understand.
No internet, absolutely.
No reading.
No “desk re-design/landscaping,” no pencil-sharpening.
Me: Don Roos developed this before so much of a book’s research could be done online. The “listening to the machine” and “no pencil-sharpening” are the giveaways. So the problem I have with this rule is that then we must define what an hour devoted to “writing” looks like. When you’re writing a memoir, other nonfiction or even a novel, the hour you devote to writing can turn out to be 60 valuable minutes of online research. There are chapters you can’t write without determining a sequence of events or other information that is in the public record. I would say turn off your phone’s ringer but leave the buzz on for emergencies, and definitely no social media or responding to email/texts. But I would replace “no internet, absolutely” with “internet for research purposes only.” And it counts as research when you spend your time emailing requests to friends and relatives for stories, documents or facts they may remember.
Immediately upon beginning the hour, we open two documents: our journal, and the project we are working on. If we don’t have a project we’re actively working on, we just open our journal.
Me: Roos’s idea here is that you write, and if that means nothing but writing in your journal, well, good enough. But as a memoir author you always have a project: your memoir. And writing a memoir doesn’t automatically mean you also even have a journal. So on this one, just open your memoir document.
An hour consists of TIME SPENT keeping our writing appointment. We don’t have to write at all, if we are happy to stare at the screen. Nor do we have to write a single word on our current project; we may spend the entire hour writing in our journal. Anything we write in our journal is fine; ideas for future projects, complaints about loved ones, even “I hate writing” typed four hundred times.
When we wish or if we wish, we pop over to the current project document and write for as long as we like. When we get tired or want a break, we pop back to the journal.
The point is, when disgust or fatigue with the current project arises, we don’t take a break by getting up from our desk. We take a break by returning to the comforting arms of our journal, until that in turn bores us. Then we are ready to write on our project again, and so on. We use our boredom in this way.
IT IS ALWAYS OKAY TO WRITE EXCLUSIVELY IN OUR JOURNAL. In practice it will rarely occur that we spend the full hour in our journal, but it’s fine, good, and right that we do when we feel like it. It is just as good a writing day as one spent entirely in our current project.
Me: If you can get yourself to write in your journal, you can put the same thoughts into your memoir. You may delete them later, and I think that’s the key to this #5 point—don’t give in to writer’s block. Write anything, and edit later. It’s all part of your life. For me, the problem is that I’m a writer. So devoting an hour to writing is no problem since I write all day long. For someone like me, that hour has to be devoted to the memoir or whatever project I’m avoiding. And the part about staring at the screen? I think the idea is that if you sit there for an hour, you’ll write something.
It is infinitely better to write fewer hours every day than many hours one day and none the next. If we have a crowded weekend, we choose a half-hour as our time, put in that time, and go on with our day. We are always trying to minimize our resistance, and beginning an hour on Monday after two days off is a challenge.
Me: I respect this point of view when it functions for you, but it is actually opposite of my experience. I used to work at least a little bit seven days a week. I made all my professional deadlines, but sometimes the rest of my life would get away from me. For many years now, I’ve taken Saturdays off from working. Saturday is a great day to spend on the phone or in person chatting with friends, getting some shopping done, cooking something special, cleaning a closet, assembling some apparatus that’s been sitting in a box, packing for an upcoming trip, and so forth. I think that when you set such a high bar of never skipping a day, when you do inevitably skip a day it’s like cheating on your diet—you think everything is ruined now. But I do agree that two days in a row make this writing goal feel less like a habit and more like a hobby. So try to write on day two, but busy life today doesn’t always cooperate. Maybe you’re traveling or dealing with a sick child or hosting out-of-town friends. A day off here and there, even weekly if that is what becomes you habit, is just fine.
When the hour is up, we stop, even if we’re in the middle of a sentence. If we have scheduled another hour, we give ourselves a break before beginning again—to read, eat, go on errands. We are not trying to create a cocoon we must stay in between hours—the “I’m sorry I can’t see anyone or leave my house, I’m on a deadline” method. Rather, inside the hour is the inviolate time.
Me: I don’t agree with this except that you should get up and stretch after, maximum, an hour. Touch your toes, walk up a flight of stairs, certainly eat if you’re hungry. But if you’ve scheduled two hours to write, there’s no need to split them in half to the point that you’re running errands in between the two hours. It’s fine if you want to do it that way, but I don’t see why it’s imperative.
If we fail to make our hours for the day, we have probably scheduled too many. Four hours a day is an enormous amount of time spent in this manner, for example. If on Wednesday we planned to write three hours and didn’t make it, we subtract the time we didn’t write from our schedule for the next day. If we fail to make a one-hour commitment, we make a one-hour or a half-hour appointment for the next day. WE REALIZE WE CANNOT MAKE UP HOURS, and that continuing to fail to meet our commitment will result in the extinguishing of our voice.
Me: I fully agree with this one. If you scheduled two hours but made it only through the first hour, the natural response might be to try to make it up the next day and schedule three hours. As he notes, doing that is probably setting yourself up for failure. Let it go. If you made it through only one hour, then set one hour as the nest day’s goal. You know you can keep that promise to yourself.
When we have fulfilled our commitment, we make sure we credit ourselves for doing so. We have satisfied our obligation to ourselves, and the rest of the day is ours to do with as we wish.
Me: Sure. Get it done, and go about your day. Or do everything you need to do all day, and then write at night. Let your memoir be part of your life rather than having it consume your life. That’s good advice, but I can’t say I follow it. I recently ghostwrote a memoir, and I lived and breathed it a lot of each day. When I saw one of the people in the book boarding the same plane as I was, I thought that perhaps I was just imagining it was that person because the players in the book were always in my thoughts. Don’t be like me!
A word about content: This may seem to be all about form, but the knowledge that we have satisfied our commitment to ourselves, the freedom from anxiety and resistance, and the stilling of that hectoring voice inside of us which used to yell at us that we weren’t writing enough — all this opens us up creatively. When we stop whipping ourselves, our voices rise up inside.
Me: Absolutely. Under the pressure of our own burdensome self-chastising, we lose the freedom of mind and soul that it takes to create. I remember this from college. I felt frozen facing papers and tests for three or four different classes. A friend urged me to let go of all but one and just get started on that one. It was amazing how much better I felt—instantly—once I made progress on the first one, and then I went to the next and the next.

Well, that’s the Kitchen Timer Method. Follow it to the letter, try my tweaks, or come up with your own version. Good luck!

Identifying Your Ideal Reader

March 22, 2026 by Rosanne Ullman

Man writing on a keyboard while picturing a young woman

It Helps Keep You Focused as You Write

As you start your memoir, identifying your ideal reader will help you determine what to include and what tone to use. As the writing process continues, picturing that reader will keep reminding you of both aspects. But how do you figure out who your reader is, this wonderful person lapping up every word you write about yourself?

Younger You

The most obvious people who will want to read your book are those who might learn something that will help them. This applies primarily to memoirs about overcoming trauma, illness, abuse or other major life hurdle. But a memoir focused on achievement or simply the life you led also can teach and inspire people who are finding themselves with similar goals or in comparable situations. Who is this reader? A younger you.

Picture yourself at the time you were dealing with the trauma, challenges or successes you describe in the book. What will you write that will guide Younger You to navigate through the inevitable roadblock or take advantage of an open door? That doesn’t mean write it as an advice column, but describe your stories and experiences clearly enough for readers facing the same thing to have positive outcomes.

People Who Know You

Your friends and family, along with anyone you mention in the book, will be interested in what you write—but mostly what you say about them. So, really, these are the readers you should not write for. Picturing your late mother in heaven as you praise the way she raised you is fine. Picturing your living mother scowling as you criticize the way she raised you will only keep you from writing your truth.

Still, it’s valuable to stay accountable to these readers in terms of making sure you’re accurate. Was it windy on that day, or are you throwing in a strong wind just as a device to create a mental image? Take the time to google what the weather actually was that day, because your friend may remember, or google, and catch you in the minor fabrication. When readers see that you’re making up the little things, you start to lose them on the big things. Will that conversation with your boss sound at least plausible all these years later to a coworker who was there at the time?

The danger is worrying about hurting the feelings of people you know. And the concern so many memoir authors have—that someone will sue them for writing negatively about the person—influences authors, often unnecessarily, to hold back. These people have already harmed you; one reason you’re publishing your memoir is to speak up for yourself. So don’t let them now stop you from authentic, possibly cathartic, writing.

People Familiar with Your Time/Place

Even if people don’t know you, if they’ve lived in the small town you’re describing or if they’re roughly your age and remember the way things were just as you recount them, they’re potential readers for your book. So, again, take the time to get the details right. Be both accurate and comprehensive. Don’t rush through; it’s okay to take a paragraph or a page to create a full mental picture of a train station or teacher or riverfront or fashion craze.

Someone Particularly Interested in Your Theme

Let’s say you triumphed over a rare disease. Maybe you were cured, or perhaps you are doing very well living with it. The reader may not be a younger you with early symptoms, but an interested reader can be an academic researcher into the disease, could have a relative with the condition, may be curious about the disease after having seen a movie or TV show about it, or may be living with a similarly serious health issue. Or there could be any number of other reasons for a reader looking to learn how you overcame the worst of the disease.

For this reader, you’ll want to provide details that other readers may skim through. This is a tough judgment call. You don’t really want readers skipping whole chapters. But documentation can be a critical part of your theme. You have to show evidence for your point of view, you need the play-by-play for surgeries or a recovery, or you may want to include resources for people facing the same plight. If you can make these details a compelling part of the story, readers will get through them. So the goal here, as throughout your book, is to write in a way that keeps readers with you.

Story Lovers

If you’re a natural storyteller, or if you can become one, you’re on the path to writing a good or great memoir. As I often do, I’ll use the example of Tara Westover’s memoir, Educated. I don’t personally relate to Mormons or survivalists or bad parenting (despite what my kids say LOL), but I love a captivating story, and Educated delivered, so I enjoyed it.

Picture your reader as someone who feasts on great novels. Keep writing with that critical reader having the choice with each chapter to continue going or put down your book and not bother to pick it up again. Make your stories fresh and surprising, frightening or funny or enlightening. End some chapters with a cliffhanger, or skillfully allude to something in the future that explains what you’re saying now. Keep hooking the storytelling fan over and over.

Readers Who Instantly Get You—and Those Who Don’t

And this is the catch. Typically, you want to get readers on your side. You’re probably not writing a memoir to convince readers what a despicable person you used to be, but even in that case you’ll be trying to get them to agree. Usually, though, you want them rooting for you.

Readers who connect right away will stick with you. The problem with picturing only those people is that you may gloss over explanations that will help other readers understand your motives, mindset and circumstances. The trick is to toggle between these two opposing readers and give each enough without alienating the other.

You Can Do It!

I mean, I hope you can do it. I like to give affirmation! A lot of “writing for the reader” can be done on the first edit. Your initial draft is to identify the stories you want to tell and just get yourself on a regular schedule of focusing on your memoir. But as you reread and edit, try to get into the head of the reader. You do eventually want people other than you to love your book.

A Perfect Memoir Reveals an Imperfect You

January 15, 2026 by Rosanne Ullman

This Is Not a Brag Book.

I’ve read a lot of highly regarded celebrity memoirs, and it’s a rare one that focuses on the obvious success. Instead, they’re filled with tough childhoods and squalid conditions, pitfalls and insecurities, bouts of depression and failed relationships. You may be trying to write the perfect memoir, but to begin with nothing is perfect, and for sure no honest account of a life portrays a perfect person. Readers are drawn to vulnerability. Only a memoir that reveals an imperfect you is likely to keep readers engaged. Then they can root for you.

Challenges are built into many memoirs. As I mentioned in my last post, the inspiration for writing a memoir often comes from a tragedy, traumatic event or tough period in life. Abuse, addiction, disease and mental illness are common themes. But outside forces are one thing, and I’m not talking about those. Whether you’re writing about a hard life or a relatively easy one, the tale of how you dealt with each episode conveys elements of your humanity. Readers identify with that common thread that even with our unique gifts and limitations, we’re all so quintessentially human.

And yet the differences are what matter. You’re quirky, you have your own way of doing things, you like certain foods and dress the way you like to dress, and you have a few unusual hobbies or predilections. Your smile or gait or voice may be identical to your grandmother’s, but it’s unlike that of anyone else. I know all of this about you because this describes all of us. And this is what should stand out in your memoir.

Character development (yours)

A memoir’s narrative can read like the plot of a novel—suspenseful or funny or sad—and that’s probably been consuming the majority of your writing energy. Of course, you have to give readers a story, with pivots and crises, a beginning and ending. But a memoir highlights character development as well. What is your character, your essence? Where are the cracks? What scars are left but helped you become who you are, so familiar and unexpected all at the same time?

Along the way, it’s fine to share your achievements and times that make you proud of yourself. Be careful not to describe that in a boastful way. Maybe a successful outcome surprised even you! Or you expected to fail but somehow prevailed. Most of all, in your rise to the top, certainly you made mistakes. Write about those swings that missed. Recognize that luck may have played a role in your success.

If your memoir is about a singular, major life challenge, then part of the theme is that you overcame this hurdle. You probably are telling your story partly to reassure others that they, too, can overcome a similar situation. You may feel that you want to emphasize what worked for you, not all the goofs. But you’ll lose them that way. They have to identify with a winner to become one, and they can’t identify with a perfect score. So explain how you triumphed despite human frailties, not because of all your strengths.

Remember as you write to give a nod to any advantages you had, not only the barriers in your way. That shows humility. Describe your fear and doubts. Look at yourself from others’ points of view and think about what they’re seeing. Ultimately, a memoir is introspective. When you reveal your shortcomings, you prove you’ve done the work in your own mind before trying to explain yourself or help the next person.

Photo by Jacob Owens for Unsplash

Memoir Authors: Use the Holidays!

December 18, 2025 by Rosanne Ullman

Cover of Meat for Tea literary journal issue

Family Gatherings Can Further Your Project

A lot of memoir authors don’t look forward to the holiday season because of all the family gatherings. Through your memoir, you may hold family members responsible for challenges you’ve had in your life. But as long as attending a holiday gathering does not endanger your mental health, use the holidays to your advantage! They hold a lot of promise for a memoir author. Bring a laptop, notebook or recording device!

Memories. You know what your older relatives love doing? Reminiscing. You may think they keep everything close to the vest, protecting secrets and hiding background circumstances, but the older they get the less they care, or maybe they don’t quite remember which information they’re not supposed to disclose. And typically there’s alcohol to loosen those lips. Most holiday celebrations last hours and include casual sitting around, so focus on that and consider the advantages of being able to reach everyone at once:
-Bring old photos. Family members will enjoy going through them, and you won’t have to say a word because the photos will generate comments and conversation all by themselves.
-Approach relatives one by one to ask a few questions. You get a face-to-face interview without having to make a separate appointment with each person.
-Walk up to a group and throw out a question that might provide a big-picture view for you when different people respond with different recollections. It can be anything from “Why don’t I know much about the years Mom’s family lived in California” to “What do you recall about me as a little kid?”
-Talk to the family members you know the least. What insight can they give you into your own life?
New memories. Even if your memoir’s timeline ends long before current day, hanging with your family can influence your memoir. Perhaps because you’re writing a memoir, you’ll be paying attention to the dynamics of relationships and traditions, and that will guide you in the tone of your writing. Maybe something dramatic will take place—a reconciliation, wedding announcement, memorable or clever remark, or empty chair due to a recent death. This can give you an idea for a good ending for your book.
Test the publishing waters. If your family isn’t aware that you’re writing a memoir, this could be a convenient time to give them a heads-up that they may see their name in your upcoming book. You can even bring printed passages if you feel that you need someone’s permission to publish a detail, you want to check the accuracy, or you’d like to just let the person know how you’re presenting an aspect of your life. This may give your relatives comfort rather than having them fear the worst. Of course, you may get blowback as well, so don’t spoil the party with a preview if you’re determined to write an unforgiving tell-all. If you’re finished or close to finishing your book, you can ask whether anyone knows a literary agent or has connections to a publishing house. Again, this is easier with everyone in the room than making a series of phone calls or relying on word-of-mouth methods to spread the information.
Trigger your writing habit. So much happens at the holidays, especially if you have house guests or you’re the one traveling and staying with relatives. Let the pile-on of experiences inspire you to write something unrelated to your memoir, just for practice. Call it a writing exercise, and I’ll give you the assignment: Write a short story or poem about your 2025 Thanksgiving or winter holiday. Some years ago, I found myself writing fiction, which I never do, based on our family’s Thanksgiving. I knew I could report in a narrative way, but I have no imagination and didn’t realize I could write fiction if I sat down and just did it. A lot of the story I crafted was truly made up, and I wrote in first person but from my daughter’s point of view, not my own. And guess what! A little literary journal, Meat for Tea, accepted it for publication after I reworked the story according to the issue’s parameters—the story had to revolve around “mugwort.”

While Meat for Tea sells its books and I encourage you to read the stories because they demonstrate good writing, my story is from 2022 so I think it’s okay if I just let you read it here. I hope you write something in 2025 yet that will give you confidence to work on your memoir in 2026. And Happy Holidays to you all.

10 Things Memoir Authors Can Learn from Taylor Swift

October 16, 2025 by Rosanne Ullman

Taylor Swift performing in Tampa during the Eras Tour

She’s a master of writing and marketing.

I’m not the biggest Swiftie out there, but I did take the above jumbotron photo when I saw her in concert during the Eras Tour, and now I’m doing a heavy listen of the new album, “Life of a Showgirl.” Mulling over the lyrics, the storytelling, the marketing and the work ethic, I’ve come up with 10 things memoir authors can learn from Taylor Swift.

Supply details that create a visual. I’m just using other words for “show, don’t tell.” This is probably the biggest takeaway from Taylor’s music. You don’t need the video, because you can picture every moment of the story she’s telling. And the descriptive details she supplies are not cliché or tired, old descriptions you’ve heard a million times, something such as, “Her eyes, the clear blue of a quiet lake, held the promise of a better tomorrow.” No, they’re surprising but precise:
“She wears high heels, I wear sneakers. She’s cheer captain, and I’m on the bleachers.”
“Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress.”
“I can see us twisted in bedsheets.”
“I was walking home on broken cobblestones.”
“The dominoes cascaded in a line.”
“See me nervously pulling at my clothes and trying to look busy.”
“I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar.”
“When we’re on the phone and you talk real slow ’cause it’s late and your mama don’t know.”
Bring readers into your life on an emotional level. And this is the second most important lesson. From listening to her songs, Taylor’s fans feel as if they’re her friends; she shares her thoughts and her experiences with them directly. From reading your book, your readers should feel that they know you well and have an emotional connection with you. These lyrics from Taylor give you an idea of how language facilitates that:
“Well, you stood there with me in the doorway. My hands shake. I’m not usually this way. But you pull me in and I’m a little more brave.”
“In a box beneath my bed is a letter that you never read from three summers back.”
“When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room.”
Be authentic. I think most memoir authors understand this one. Most likely you’re not writing a memoir to prop yourself up or establish some version of yourself that isn’t true. Just the opposite—most writers I know find that memoir brings them closer to their most authentic self. Through the research and soul-searching that memoir requires, you may feel that you’re in touch with parts of you that either had never before surfaced or had been long forgotten or neglected. Taylor is so overly authentic that conjuring up stories about completely fictional characters in the “Folklore” album introduced a new angle to her music.
Build suspense or anticipation, and later reveal the outcome. One of my favorite Taylor Swift songs, “The Last Great American Dynasty,” tells the story of a quirky woman who, after marrying her way into wealth and real estate, “ruined” the last great American dynasty, according to the townspeople. Her house sat idle for 50 years until, Taylor tells us, “it was bought by me.” And then she had a good time being loud and scandalous and ruining things all over again. So that was a surprise ending. Readers will turn the pages of your memoir to find out what happens. Write your story in a way that makes readers unsure of how precarious situations will turn out.
Drop “Easter eggs” along the way. In building that anticipation, you can mimic Taylor’s habit of hiding clues or what’s come to be called “Easter eggs.” Taylor’s fans are always on the lookout for any hint of what’s next, because she’s become associated with this device. Let’s say in your teens you meet someone who many years later becomes your spouse. You can write something like:
In the group of friends was a guy who caught my eye for just a moment. At the time, we didn’t have a conversation, but somehow I knew I’d run into Paul again someday.
Invent new metaphors and conflate idioms to create a mashup. “I’m a mirrorball,” Taylor sings. “I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight. I’ll get you out on the floor. Shimmering, beautiful. And when I break it’s in a million pieces.” You don’t hear someone comparing herself to what I picture to be a disco ball every day. But I think it works, perhaps not as easily in a memoir as in lyrics, but my point is to take risks with your writing. In Taylor’s song “Cancelled” from the new album, she asks whether you brought a tiny violin to a knife fight. I really like that mashup. In my own writing, I frequently take a common saying and either twist it or mash it up with another one. What I mean is something like:
The prodigal daughter had become a son of a gun. Or:
After a while, I started arriving at work right on time like the rest of the staff, accepting that all being an early bird would ever get me was the promised worm.
Use humor. Many authors write about a dark time in their lives and the redemption that followed. Humor seems out of place in that type of memoir. But if there is a way to inject even a little humor, try doing that. It gives the reader a break from the heavy subject matter. The lyric I’ll cite from Taylor Swift is from the new album’s song “Actually Romantic.” She’s talking about how someone has been throwing shade at her on social media, and it’s sort of cute—“like a toy Chihuahua barking at me from a tiny purse.” Well, it made me laugh, anyway.
Create a brand. Engage with potential readers even before your book comes out. Publishers today are risk-averse and more likely to offer you a contract if you already have a definable following. Taylor understood fan engagement while still a teen, and obviously it’s served her well.
Capture your genius moments. According to numerous reports, Taylor was riding in a car with her then boyfriend, now fiancé, Travis when their conversation about a particular late great actress inspired the song “Elizabeth Taylor,” now track three on the new album. So they parked the car, and she popped out to get some quiet in her head so she could sing a tune into her phone. That’s how she began to write that song. If you’re writing a memoir, it’s always on your mind. Whether you’re daydreaming some lines in the shower or an interesting aspect to your life story wakes you up in the middle of the night, don’t lose the opportunity to grab some paper or your phone and get your thoughts down. They can be fleeting!
Be fearless. Look, you’re writing a memoir. This is not a project born of timidity. You’re already doing something very bold. Don’t be afraid of the writing, don’t be frightened of the ordeal of finding a publisher, and don’t fear the reaction from family or the public. You’ll never finish this project if you glance over at Fear Fiend. So take that lesson. From the name of one of her albums to the way she manages her career, “fearless” is an apt label for Taylor Swift and can be for you, too.

Categories of Common Memoir Themes

September 4, 2025 by Rosanne Ullman

Really, there are only two categories with multiple versions of each.

If you want to write a memoir rather than a full autobiography, what might you focus on that will resonate with readers? When you get down to it, there are really only two categories of common memoir themes.

Category 1: Triumph

Feeling you’ve overcome some adversity can be so life-changing that you want to not only share it with others but use your experience to help the next person facing the same problem. You may even help people avoid falling into the trap of whatever tripped you up.

Within this broad category, there are subsets:

Illness. A rare illness introduces readers to something new, which always makes for good reading. On the other hand, more people will relate to a common illness. This means that no matter what health challenge you faced, including mental illness and depression, you can write a memoir about it.
Trauma. From living with an abusive parent or spouse or experiencing extreme bullying to growing up in a country at war, trauma is a frequently explored misery. Escape tends to be the resolution, but there are many directions this can take, and not all tales of trauma are alike.
Addictions and vices. With all the groups available to help people quit drugs, alcohol, gambling, shopping, compulsive sex and more, it’s no wonder that former addicts want to write memoirs after believing they’ve kicked the habit. Matthew Perry is a sad example of how difficult this is to achieve, even if at the time you write your memoir you think you’ve gotten there.
Identity and insecurity. The path to figuring out who you truly are can obviously fill a book. Gender confusion, body shape issues, learning challenges, cultural blurriness, even career indecision—people spend many years on choices and self-acceptance. Once you’ve come to terms with your authentic self, it’s understandable that you want to provide a path of information and encouragement to people just beginning the journey.
Spiritual awakening. The outcome of any of these challenges can come through a new spiritual awareness, but the awareness itself also can be the main topic of a memoir. Perhaps you just didn’t feel whole until you let God in your life. It’s a common theme, but everyone’s discovery is unique.

Category 2: Time period of your life

While the triumph category may end up covering only certain years of your life, this second category focuses specifically on a slice of time with the theme inherent in how you spent that time. Again, there are sub-categories:

A geographic location. It can be very interesting to read someone’s “my time in” an unfamiliar culture. Perhaps you lived part of your life in an area that was exotic, isolated, poverty-stricken, dangerous or even privileged. Or maybe you simply took a trip that you describe in an extensive travelogue.
A relationship. Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays With Morrie is a well-known example of chronicling time spent with a special person. Albom revealed the myriad topics of discussion during his weekly visits with his dying former professor, opening readers’ minds to life’s richness. If the movie Beaches had been based on a memoir instead of a novel, which of course is fiction, it would be another good example of a friendship memoir. Some relationships last a lifetime, but if you’re writing a memoir about it you probably had a beginning and end.
Coming of age. Somehow we have a timeless fascination in exploring the bridge between childhood and adulthood. Perhaps it’s because then we remember our own coming-of-age years, when we had our whole lives ahead of us, lots of options and endless new experiences.
Drastically changed circumstances. Perhaps there were some months or years that, for whatever reason, were completely different from the rest of your life. Joan Didion explored grief and loss in The Year of Magical Thinking. Maybe you spent a couple of years working as a firefighter or fostering dozens of children or running an unusual company. It can be worth writing about.
A project. Whether you took three years to sail around the world or you set out to visit every major league ballpark in the country, you may have a memoir there. White journalist John Howard Griffin wrote his 1961 best-seller Black Like Me to enlighten people about how race impacts everyday life after he managed to pose as a black man in the segregated South.

Once Again: Autobiography vs. Memoir

If you’re a celebrity, you can get away with writing a full autobiography, cradle to present day, and still call it a memoir, not to mention still get it published. If you’re an ordinary person, only your family will be interested in your autobiography. And that’s fine. In fact, that’s our typical customer at Write My Memoirs.

Just don’t expect, as a non-celebrity, to have high book sales without a theme. Often the theme is the catalyst for writing the memoir. But let’s say the motivation to write about your life comes first, and then you go looking for a theme that will be compelling to readers. You want to write about something, with you as the major player. That’s a memoir.

Author Shares Memoir Journey of Reliving Trauma

August 21, 2025August 21, 2025 by Rosanne Ullman

Writing Through the Wreckage: The Unbearable Weight of Telling My Story

by our guest contributor Adriene Caldwell

Writing Unbroken: Life Outside the Lines has been the most harrowing journey of my life—more painful, more vulnerable, and more exhausting than I could have ever imagined. And that is saying something, considering the life I’ve lived.

Brutally Honest Overview

This book is not a story. It is a reckoning. It is a coffin I’ve had to reopen again and again, not to bury what happened but to breathe through it—to make space for the wounds that never stopped bleeding and the girl inside me who never stopped screaming.

Writing this memoir meant returning to the scenes of the most unthinkable traumas: witnessing the sexual assault of my young friend, seeing a child drown, surviving foster care so abusive it bordered on sadistic, growing up in extreme poverty and mental illness, battling addiction and bulimia, and being raised in the aftermath of a home ruled by violence and untreated psychosis.

These weren’t chapters to be revised. They were ghosts I had to confront to stay alive.

Memory as a Battlefield

There’s a particular cruelty in trauma that lives in your nervous system rather than your memory. You forget what happened, but your body remembers. Your breath shortens. Your hands shake. You cry and don’t know why. Writing each chapter felt like plunging into freezing water with no guarantee I’d come back up.

I didn’t just survive trauma—I bore witness to it. I saw my young friend sexually assaulted. I didn’t have the power to stop it. I didn’t even understand what I was seeing until years later, when the guilt caught up to my understanding. That memory alone could have unraveled me. But it was only the beginning. I watched a little girl drown. I remember the chaos, the silence that followed, the disbelief.

It wasn’t a movie moment; it was slow, confusing, and then over. But it stayed in my body. And writing about it meant sitting with the realization that I would never unknow what it looked like to watch life slip away.

The Shame that Shadows the Page

Of all the emotions I expected to encounter while writing this memoir, shame was the most persistent and the most venomous. The drug use, the desperation, the people I gave myself to in hopes of feeling something other than emptiness—it all painted a version of me I had spent years trying to erase.

But that’s the lie trauma teaches you: if you admit what happened to you, you become what happened to you. And I believed that lie for far too long. Every page I wrote, I felt shame whispering: Who are you to share this? Who will love you when they know? Yet I kept writing. Not to silence the shame, but to exhaust it. To give it a voice until it had nothing left to say.

Grieving in Real Time

Some traumas are decades old. Others still burn like fresh wounds. Writing about the deaths of people I loved, as well as my own suicide attempts, meant confronting a different kind of violence: the one we do to ourselves when we believe we are unworthy of life. I didn’t write about suicide from the sidelines. I wrote it as someone who attempted it. More than once. I had to revisit the scenes: the overdoses, the razors, the gun, the stillness, the moments I hoped would be the last. I had to write about the part of me that didn’t want to be here. And then I had to write about why I stayed.

I also wrote about being homeless—when my mother, brother, and I lived at the Salvation Army shelter in downtown Houston. Each morning, the shelter would evict its occupants onto the blazing hot Houston streets. The pavement scorched the soles of my shoes. The sun was merciless. I carried my childhood in a plastic bag and my shame in my throat. Writing those scenes meant remembering the sting of invisibility, the constant fight to simply endure the day.

And always, in the background, there was my mother. She was schizophrenic. Unmedicated. And she was physically abusive. Her rage was untethered, and her mind was often lost in a world I couldn’t access. But her beatings were all too real. The last one came with a wooden dowel rod—the kind you hang clothes on in a closet. Thick. Heavy. Unforgiving. A makeshift bat in her hands. I remember her swinging it with precision. I remember the bruises that didn’t fade and the realization that I had to leave or I would not survive.

Telling the Truth When It Could Ruin You

Some truths are not just difficult—they’re dangerous. Writing about pedophilia, abusive foster homes and family secrets meant risking everything. I worried about legal fallout. I worried about people I once loved reading their own reflections in the mirror of my pain. I worried about being disbelieved—again.

But writing this memoir wasn’t about revenge. It was about reclamation. And I had to ask myself every day: Am I willing to be free even if it costs me everything? The answer, eventually, became yes.

The Loneliness of Writing What No One Wants to Hear

Writing a trauma memoir is a solitary act. It’s not a trending genre. There is no applause for this kind of vulnerability. People will say it’s “too much,” “too graphic,” “too hard to read.” And to that, I say: Imagine how hard it was to live.

I didn’t write Unbroken to entertain. I wrote it because the silence was killing me. I wrote it because too many people are still living what I survived. And someone needs to go first.

The Unexpected Grace

Despite all the pain, there have been moments of light. Writing has allowed me to meet the girl I was, the one no one protected, and offer her what she never had: truth. I’ve written prayers into paragraphs. I’ve stitched together sentences that somehow made my brokenness feel sacred.

When I wrote about choosing not to die—when I reached for life even in the depths of despair—it didn’t feel like writing. It felt like remembering. Remembering that I am not just what happened to me. I am what I survived. I am who I became.

A Memoir as a Mirror

Unbroken: Life Outside the Lines is not just a book. It’s a mirror. It reflects back the parts of me I tried to hide—the rage, the grief, the shame—and it allows me to say: I am still here. I am not clean. I am not healed. But I am whole, in the way a tree is whole after a lightning strike—scarred, yes, but alive.

This book cost me everything: my comfort, my certainty, my illusion of safety. But it gave me back my voice. And maybe, if even one person reads it and feels seen, it will have given something to them, too.

The Truth: It Was Never Just Writing

People ask what it’s like to write a trauma memoir. I wish I could say it was cathartic. Sometimes it was. But mostly, it was excruciating, like pulling out a knife still embedded in the wound, over and over, until I remembered that I was the one holding it now.

This book wasn’t therapy. It was survival. It wasn’t healing. It was truth. And I am not the same woman who began it.