Here’s to You and Your Unique Story
I had a whole obligatory New Year’s resolutions piece to post, but I’ll save it for January. Today I’m feeling you. I’m thinking about you non-celebrity memoir writers. I’m feeling your pain of living and your catharsis from writing about your life. I’m feeling your triumphs and your regrets, your hardships and your blessings. So here’s a welcome 2026 toast to you, memoir writers, hoping for a new year that delivers everything you want in life and all the benefits you’re seeking through sharing your memories and your unique story. There is no other you.
Above, there I am with the best thing for me about 2025: the birth of a grandchild. So here’s also to new babies and the lives that they’re just beginning. May those lives be worthy of a memoir in their ordinariness or their greatness, but not in their despair.
And here’s to YOU who are getting past the hurdle of reliving trauma as you diligently write about….
Your terrible parents and miserable childhood.
Your childhood with just one parent—or with no parents.
A childhood plagued by bullying.
A life of homelessness.
A life of extreme poverty.
An unspeakable childhood or adolescence on the receiving end of sexual abuse, a childhood that no child should have and no adult should be remembering. Your courage astonishes me.
Seeking education despite your learning disability.
Learning despite limited access to education.
Life in a country where freedom is withheld, and perhaps a risky escape.
A life of religious persecution.
Life in a brainwashing cult.
A life of substance abuse.
The life of an alcoholic.
Your gambling or shopping addiction.
A life of pain and illness for a memoir set in hospital wards and closed-curtained bedrooms.
Life as an accident victim who fought back to live as fully as possible.
Your experiences with mental illness.
A life of embarrassment about who you are in a society that doesn’t readily accept you.
A life filled with challenges of various sorts.
A life primarily characterized by others’ hatred.
A marriage or other partnership defined by abuse, whether verbal and emotional or physical and sexual. Or all of it.
Your difficult pregnancy.
Your experiences parenting a child with physical, developmental or emotional issues.
Horrific memories from your brutal military service.
Your desperate search for a meaningful life, or a savior, or simply peace.
Your life involving sadness, no matter what the cause.
I salute every single one of you and wish you the best in writing about your challenging life. I apologize if I neglected to mention your journey. Typically, if you’re at the point of memoir, you feel you’ve overcome your major challenge. My hat’s off to you for never giving up, with an extra tip to those of you who are writing in order to help the next person under circumstances similar to the ones you battled.
Now to the rest of you memoir authors—those who are writing in gratitude for a good life or are writing to just leave behind a record for grandchildren to understand your choices and to learn how things were in your life and times. I toast to you as well. A life may be for living as they say, but it’s also a great gift for the people in your life, and strangers, too, to pause and write about who you were, who you are, and why this all matters.
To all of you: love, peace and joy in 2026. And a solid writing habit :).
Rosanne