On Writing Memoir

This was often said,

“It must be therapeutic?” 

“It is.”

But it was more than that. I’d long been a reader and writer of journals and short stories, and during lockdown I saw my opportunity to realise a lifelong ambition to write a book, but I needed to learn a great deal whilst writing. Curtis Brown Creative’s three-month Write Your Novel course was invaluable, and Jericho Writers helped too. I joined West Hill Writers, a local in-person group whose enthusiastic support turned a loose idea into a serious commitment. In trusted, encouraging company, I submitted the first chapter of what became Don’t Call This Fiction and received invaluable feedback. It was there that I realised I needed other writers to learn from and keep company with. I was lucky to get to know Victoria Robson, and together we co-founded the wonderful Real Writers Circle.

I had to get the story down first, and it came out as a messy draft. A right state. A developmental editor urged me to stop avoiding the painful parts and write with more honesty and confidence about my experiences, thoughts, and feelings. Her advice echoed what I had heard at West Hill: whose story was this—mine or my mother’s? That question went to the heart of my memoir.

Revisiting the past required care and routine: I wrote in the morning, stopped to walk or do something else, then revised in the afternoon and finished by 4pm. In time, I grew used to returning to hard material and felt safe. Reading other writers, especially Elena Ferrante, encouraged me to dig deeper. I did this in layers. Sometimes it took a dozen returns to keep digging down until I’d fully mined a key incident/scene. I saw connections I’d never noticed before, gained insights, and reflected on both the behaviour I’d witnessed and my own hard to understand decisions. Throughout, the process was developmental and writing with the question why in mind transformed the approach. I have understood so much more about my myself, others and the systems we operate within and how not to make the same mistakes as I did. I couldn’t use the word victim, but it is what I was. Such is the nature of the lies I told myself to get by. I was a victim, and not only did I survive, but I thrived, particularly once I broke silence and acted. I’d handed a man my power for decades until I didn’t.

 The plan was to write the book in six months, maybe a year. It took over six years. There was so much to learn, specifics I look forward to sharing. I didn’t expect the joy I found in recalling the humour, kindness, and enchanting strangeness of some characters involved. 

Reading memoirs has been a great pleasure and an eye-opener to other perspectives and lives. I have benefitted substantially from Sins of My Father and Into Being (about writing memoir) by Lily Dunn, and I follow Lily on Substack and at the London Lab. 

Some other favourites:

• We Are What We Read – by Vybarr Cregan Reid. It lit a fire in me and made me cry.
• Just Kids by Patti Smith. Every page is a pleasure, with unforgettable characters.
• This is Not a Pity Memoir by Abi Morgan. I walked around reading this, and I wasn’t the only one.
• Original Sins by Matt Rowland Hill. An extraordinarily brave memoir about addiction. Matt helped me understand my son, now a lost boy.
• Things in Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li. Award winning. An outstanding work about a mother’s profound grief following both her son’s suicide. Real, clear, honest expression. Deep and delicate.
• Without Warning & Only Sometimes by Kit de Waal. Joyous and heartbreaking.
• How to Say Babylon by Safiya Sinclair. Set in Jamaica, it’s the story of a girl who broke free from her repressive father to become a renowned poet. An immersive read.
• On Chapel Sands by Laura Cumming. An engaging search for truth and superb storytelling.
• A Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. Superb writing, a unique voice, and intellect.
• Complicit and Dark Chapter by Winnie M. Li – hard hitting fiction based on all too true stories.

Key lessons from:

• Curtis Brown Creative: the value of a peer group, developmental feedback, and encouragement.
• Jericho Writers: Debi Alper’s teaching on psychic distance and the value of spending time with other writers.
• West Hill Writers: a supportive local group, led by Anna Burt, that helped turn intention into commitment. I learnt if there’s a traumatic scene to write that doing so in the company of silent writing writers was the best place to do it. 
• Real Writers Circle: Connecting, socialised learning and each other as a resource.

For memoir writing.

• Into Being Lily Dunn and on Substack.
• Marnie Summerfield Smith www.yourmemoir.co.uk
• Cathy Rentzenbrink – see her books and Wikipedia page.
• Anna Hayward – for communications and mentoring extraordinaire. www.annahayward.co.uk