The Key to Writing an Engaging Memoir

I’ve worked on several fantastic memoirs over the years. Five Million Steps. Even If I’m Not. I Don’t Got This. The Woman in Deed. They’re each unique, with their own story and voice and lessons, which is something I love about memoir.

But there’s a pattern that crops up for many first-time memoirists. As I go through the manuscript, I see the author telling the reader about events. I see facts instead of feelings. I see explanations instead of descriptions. In short, I see nonfiction instead of fiction.

Now, you might say, “Duh, Adina, memoir is nonfiction.” But here’s the thing: Thinking like that will warp a memoir. It will turn it into a dry, dull, dead thing. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself with the alliteration.)

Do memoirs need to be true? A hundred percent. There’s a trust contract between you and the reader—they expect that what you’ve written really happened. (And there are many scandals when that contract is broken.) But when it comes to how you tell the truth, you need to step outside of your journalism degree and enter the land of storytelling. This is the biggest thing I’ve seen memoirists struggle with. And it’s the obstacle that must be overcome to produce an engaging, impactful memoir.

In this blog post I’m going to cover the two symptom areas that arise from this struggle, with advice on how to treat them. But at the end of the day, you need to attack the core problem: You’re not writing nonfiction. You’re writing fiction (which happens to be true).

Finding Your Memoir Arc

Character arc is discussed a lot in fiction writing, but it’s not something many writers of memoir think about. A memoir is, at its core, a character-driven story. You become fundamentally changed because of an experience you went through. The formula of an arc is that a person faces X and must learn Y in order to Z. For example, in Educated, Tara Westover’s journey of education allows her to break free from an abusive family and create her own life and reality.

Now, throughout a person’s life, we will (hopefully) go through dozens if not hundreds of growth arcs. We start off one way, and through an obstacle, learn something and become changed. There will be an overall, giant arc throughout an entire life, but beneath that is dozens of smaller arcs that lead us to who we are.

A memoir, by definition, focuses on one aspect or event in a person’s life. It’s not an autobiography. (See my LinkedIn post about that.) A memoir acts as a container for one vital arc that you’ve experienced. From naivete to educated. From bitterness to acceptance. From depression to self-love. This main arc represents the main theme of your memoir.

It can be difficult sometimes to see your own arc. Often, through writing the memoir, you realize the changes you’ve gone through and lessons you’ve learned. This is crucial to making your memoir work. Without that arc, you’re basically telling a story without the punch line. It lacks meaning. Ideally, see if you can identify this before you start writing, as it will guide you throughout the writing process.

Questions to Ask to Find Your Arc

Where was I before this event in my life happened—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. What did I believe about myself and others? What was holding me back? What kind of things was I telling myself? What were my biggest struggles at that time? How were they manifesting in my day-to-day life?

Next, looking back at the entirety of the event, ask yourself: What did this experience teach me? How did it change how I view myself or the world around me? How do I now show up for others? What differences, if any, are there in how I go about my day? What is one thing I gained that completely changed who I am?

These are not always easy things to answer. But they are your character arc, for this specific memoir, anyway. It doesn’t mean you’re now a perfect human being. (If you were perfect, you’d be dead, as there wouldn’t be any point in you being here anymore.) But it means you learned something, you grew, you changed, and that is part of the human experience that your readers can relate to.

Information vs Action

The other day I went to a class, and there was a large fly buzzing around us for twenty solid minutes. We opened the door. We got a cup to trap it. We constantly had to pause as the fly dive-bombed us. Finally, it landed in front of me, and I killed it with my notebook. The end.

What I just wrote was information. It was not a scene. It had material for a scene, definitely, but it contained no sensory detail, dialogue, or emotion. When writing about past events, it’s very easy to fall back on writing facts. We state what happened. We narrate. In other words, we tell instead of show. It’s much faster and easier to write like this, and if that’s what it takes to get your first draft done, go for it. But the second draft cannot stay in telling mode. That will deprive the reader of a truly immersive experience.

A scene, in contrast, brings the reader into the action and allows them to feel what the point-of-view character (you) felt. Description opens the five senses, and dialogue allows them to hear and connect with the characters. It makes the moment real. And if the moment is real, the moment has weight.

Developing a Scene

There are many books out there on how to craft a scene. But here are three main focus areas to consider to draw out the moment:

• What did I see/hear/feel/smell/touch/taste throughout the scene? Which of those are the most vital to bring the reader into the moment?

• What dialogue occurred? What was the body language and tone of voice?

• How did I feel when x, y, z happened?

  
  

These focus areas allow the reader to see what you saw, hear what you heard, and feel what you felt.

On Feeling

Writers of nonfiction have trouble bringing out the emotion of a moment. Journalists especially. They’re used to stating facts, not opinions. But readers don’t care about facts. They want to know how you felt. This can be a difficult thing to face, especially with more traumatic material. (I’ll actually be addressing this in my next Mining Your Message newsletter.) But if you withhold emotion from a scene, it simply won’t land.

The key questions to ask yourself to draw out that emotion is “How did that make me feel?” and then “What was my physical reaction to that?” For example, a line someone said may have hurt you, but instead of telling the reader “That hurt,” you’ll instead show how that hurt manifested physically: “Tears stung my eyes.” This adds depth to the scene and allows the reader to connect with the narrator (you).

Test It

Lee Gutkind talks about a highlighter exercise in his book You Can’t Make This Stuff Up. He advises going through each chapter, and when you come across action, highlight it. When you come to reflection or information, don’t highlight. The goal is for you to see how often you are narrating and how often you are using scene so the reader can watch the show. The point is not for the entire manuscript to be highlighted. Telling absolutely has its place. But the majority of your memoir should be full of yellow.

If you find non-highlighted areas that could and should be a scene, use the tips above to develop it. As you do so, focus on recreating the moment.

Creation vs Recreation

In fiction, we create. We are inventing characters and making up their emotions.

In memoir, we recreate. We are remembering people and recalling how things felt.

This is another important distinction that Gutkind discusses. We obviously can’t remember word-for-word what someone said. We might not know with certainty what body language they had at that moment or what the carpet looked like. This is why some recreation is necessary; there are some details we have to fill in to the best of our knowledge.

Will it be exactly true to what happened? Probably not, but the reader understands, and as long as it’s mostly true and done with good intentions, it’s okay. Focus on recreating the moment to the best of your ability, and you will keep the trust contract intact.

In Summary

As you work on your memoir, lean into a fiction mindset. Get clear on your character arc, focus on theme, and turn information into action. When you can make the emotions pop off the page, that’s when your memoir will live on in your reader even after they put down the book.

About Adina

Adina Edelman is a book editor who works with authors of memoir and fiction, especially historical, mystery, sci-fi/fantasy, literary, and middle-grade fiction. She’s all about mining your message, unearthing the gold in your story—not just the grammar errors.

Adina has worked on over 130 titles in the past five years (and published one of her own). She offers 30-minute coaching sessions alongside her editing services.

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