I have always been an avid reader, but before I started writing memoir, I rarely read it. I remember being deeply moved by Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, but I didn’t even think about it being a memoir or consider seeking out more.
I suppose it’s because I grew up reading fantasy and sci-fi, as my dad had a library full of them. The Hobbit was the first “real” book I read on my own!
Reading fantasy was an escape. First from loneliness and small-town bullies and later from stressful jobs or bad relationships.
I certainly never thought about writing a memoir or writing anything other than research papers and work instructions. But somewhere along the way, I accidentally became a storyteller. Life kept handing me one incredible story after the other, and it all seemed too crazy to keep to myself, so I started sharing my stories in conversations with friends and coworkers. It wasn’t until I had heard, “Oh my god, Christina you should write a book” about twenty times before I wondered if maybe I should.
My writing journey began with scrawling journal entries before I collapsed into bed. But journal entries alone do not make a memoir, so I decided I’d better do some investigative reading. As my stories primarily revolved around the crazy dates I’d gone on, I started with I Don’t Care About Your Band: Lessons Learned from Indie Rockers, Trust Funders, Pornographers, Felons, Faux-Sensitive Hipsters, and Other Guys I’ve Dated by Julie Klausner and I loved it. Here was someone facing many dating struggles even crazier than mine! After that, my appetite for memoir multiplied. I read What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding by Kristin Newman and felt like I’d found my soul sister. I loved the way both of these women veered from wildly funny to vulnerable, how I could see my inner world through their words.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone. These were real people going through real struggles and real revelations, putting words to my own experiences and feelings.
I still enjoy a good fiction or fantasy now and then (I have a soft spot for magical detectives like Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files or Sarah Painter’s Crow Investigations and Writers & Lovers by Lily King felt devastatingly real), but many times as I’m reading anything that’s not memoir, I find myself thinking, “That didn’t really happen!”
And that’s the magic of memoir—it did really happen. It’s raw, messy, beautiful, and real. Reading memoirs has shown me that truth is often stranger (and more fascinating) than fiction. And now, as I write my own stories, I realize that I’m not just escaping into someone else’s imagination. I’m diving into the chaotic, complicated, and sometimes hilarious depths of my own. Turns out, there’s plenty of magic there, too.
If you’d like to explore the genre further, read my post about my memoir group’s favorites here: Memoir Mentors on Substack.
Oh… on June 28 last year, I said that I would be completing my memoir in December 2024. Well, that didn’t happen. However, I’m proud of the progress I made—polishing old chapters, clarifying my structure, writing new material, releasing perfectionism, and gaining a big self-confidence boost from the feedback I received from Brooke Warner. None of us in the course finished our drafts, and that’s okay. Writing memoir is different from other genres—unlike churning out a novel in a month, it’s about sifting through a vast amount of material to find the story that truly needs to be told. It’s a long process, but it’s worth every moment. The writing has helped me make meaning of my life, discover unexplored pieces of my psyche, and build treasured connections through my Memoir Mentors community. That magic keeps me going, and I’m determined—this will be the year I finish!
