I finally know how to write a memoir

Everything it took me two years to learn

Sep 11, 2025

When I started writing my memoir two years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I had never written a book. I had never been taught how. I hadn’t even read that many memoirs from which I could ~~steal~~ take inspiration.

I did know a No. 1 New York Times bestselling author who would have given me pointers had I asked. But, wanting to make it on my own, I stubbornly refused to.

So, clueless and directionless, I started writing. And, given I still don’t have a memoir two years later, you may say I have failed.

And six months ago, I might have agreed.

But then the literary stars aligned, and everything I’d learnt by doing, and failing, converged. And now, I finally know how to write a memoir.

To spare you a years-long headache, here’s everything I wish I knew two years ago.

What happens when you start writing a book and don’t know how

Before we get to the learning, let me tell you what actually happened when I sat down to write two years ago.

First, what I knew: I knew I wanted to write about overcoming years of mental health struggles—depression, mania, psych ward—to realise my dream life. I knew my goal was not to suggest remedies, but to show those low on hope that rebirth is possible.

Now, what I didn’t know: Is this a memoir or an autobiography? How many words should it be? Do I outline or just start writing? How many months, or years, will it take? What even to call it?

Some of the questions were easy to answer with ChatGPT: definitely a memoir; aim for 80,000 words. The rest, I figured I’d start and see.

So I downloaded Scrivener which I knew Mark had written The Subtle Art on thanks to a podcast interview I’d stalk-listened to, completed the tutorials, and started writing.

26,750 words later, two things happened: I ran out of ideas, and decided everything I’d written was crap. It was self-indulgent, barely coherent, a stream of consciousness neither inviting nor engaging. So I stopped.

At this point, I sought help. I’d been reading a literary agent’s (excellent) newsletter,1 and when she opened her forum up to reader questions, I had mine ready: What to do? Her answer: Read more memoirs.

Ever dutiful, I bought and read all the memoirs I’d heard great things about: When Breath Becomes Air, Brain on Fire, An Unquiet Mind, Out of Africa, Shoe Dog, Small Fry, Giving Up the Ghost, Hunger, Poor, Educated, Clothes Clothes Clothes Music Music Music Boys Boys Boys, Writing About Your Life, On Writing, Tuesdays With Morrie, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, The Noonday Demon, Darkness Visible, Underneath the Lemon Tree.

It was good advice. At some point during my memoir binge, I discovered the one question I should have been asking all along: How do I *structure* my memoir?

How to write a memoir

Once I’d stumbled onto structure as the starting point, the foolishness of my “write and see” strategy became apparent—what works for a 500-word newsletter isn’t necessarily going to work for an 80,000-word book. And definitely not for a first-time author.

With distance from my shitty first draft and “inspiration” from all the memoirs I was reading, I finally saw my memoir’s structure: objects for chapters, not chronological. I opened up my long-slumbering Scrivener to outline, and just like that, everything fell into place.

A few months later, I had a few chapters I was happy with and sent them off to my beta readers. From their feedback came even more questions I should have been asking: Am I sign-posting effectively? (No.) Is this detail moving my story forward? (More no’s.)

Today, my memoir is four chapters and 3,343 words long. And I consider this a success because I am no longer lost.

I now know that, to write my memoir—any memoir probably—I first need structure. Then within that structure, I need to figure out my narrative and include only details that move it forward. I need to signpost effectively, especially if I’m bouncing between the past and the present (like I am with my memoir). I should probably also decide if I want many short chapters, or fewer long ones. And I definitely need to share my work early so I can enlist fresh eyes to hone my words.

And, best of all, I know exactly what to call it. Last year, expecting Dad not to be long for this world, I shared my provisionally-titled, second first draft with him and Mum. He had no thoughts on the chapters, but I love the title, he said.

So, Into the Light it is.

What do you think?

Since you’ve read this far, I’m going to assume you have an interest in book-writing, might even be working on one yourself. So:

What book do you want to write?

If you’ve already started, what have you learnt that has helped you along? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you’re feeling benevolent, share this post with a friend who’s dying to write a memoir but doesn’t know how to begin.