The Transformative Power of Memoir-Writing

Ahh. All those dots. The ones that connect the people, events, smiles, tears, and the joys of life—your life. But who would be privy to them unless you sat them down and told them about the highlights that made you who you are?

That kind of oral history is what is often passed down from generation to generation, but without a written form can also morph into something else altogether. That is why some don’t take chances and get hustling by burning up the keys of their word processors even during their third trimester of life.

Source: Pexels: Suzy Hazelwood

So what is a memoir? Blogger Amber Lea Starfire puts it this way: “Essentially, memoir is a collection of memories in narrative form, a story composed of events you experienced in your life.” She explains how memoir makes visible and weaves together the connecting threads of those events and gives meaning to them, differing from an autobiography which chronicles your life from birth to the present. “A memoir pulls related events from your life and examines them, turns them around and inside out like taffy, and shapes them into a story that communicates your perspective and truth to others,” says Starfire.

Many people have two reactions to the suggestion of writing a memoir. (1) They don’t think they’ve had a difficult enough life to write something worth reading, or (2) They are not writers.

But take heart. While many memoirs deal with life’s most challenging aspects, it isn’t necessary to have a hard life to earn the right to write a meaningful one. Besides, in these days of recording-to-print technology, if you can speak into a smartphone or an app, you can write. There’s that “oral history” coming to life once again. Often, those whose memoirs become part of the family fabric simply wrote things down so they wouldn’t forget them.

Jeanette Walls, author of the classic memoir, The Glass Castle, once said she is constantly urging people, especially older folks, to write about their lives. Why? Because it gives you, the writer of it, a new perspective.

The very act of writing down your memories is like handing your life over to someone and saying, “This is what I went through, this is who I am, and maybe you can learn something from it.” Kind of like paying it forward—offering examples of what to do or not do so others can benefit from your joys as well as face-plants, some of which can be downright amusing a few decades later.

It’s also not about writing skills. It’s about the desire to lay your life open for a bit—as if catching up with a long, lost friend. All our lives are peppered with events, large and small. Some herald the beginning of a new path and others speak of endings that brought enlightenment, even if they contained some regrets. Besides, if you’re leaving your memoirs to the ones you love, no one is out for a Pulitzer Prize anyway.

Another reason to write down your memories is to identify your life’s threads and themes, making sense of it all. What if that friend, whom you met at a party, had not invited you to travel to New York with her? And while in New York, you met someone who was in a position to hire you for a job. That experience led to your meeting your spouse. And you two made kids together. The list can go on and on, but the beauty is in the connective tissue made up of fate, coincidence, and timing.

As many who contribute to Psychology Today might agree, memoir-writing can be a healing, transformative journey as well. Sometimes realizing just how far you’ve come—having left an abusive ex-spouse, having brought up a challenging child, or overcoming a serious illness—can make you even more grateful for the here and now. It can connect you with others who have gone through the same “stuff,” providing encouragement, comfort, and inspiration while making them feel less alone in their experiences.

And lastly, writing down aspects of your life contributes to recorded history and is your legacy to family, friends, and the world. It’s more than a few snapshots. It’s your voice in print.

So go ahead. Get started. The world—your world—is waiting.