When you are in the development stage of writing, one of the first major decisions you will need to make is how to bracket the book—where the narrative starts and where it ends. Memoir is not biography, so those bookends are not determined by your birth and death, but rather by when you became embroiled with the topic of your memoir and ending…well that’s the tricky part, isn’t it? Our lives have so many natural “beginnings.” When we meet someone, start school or a job, when something happens that changes everything. Our lives are full of first days, and each one could provide fodder for a topic that is central to a memoir. Finding endings is a bit trickier, but it is where your topic and message intertwine and come to a point, where you have been changed and will live on having learned the lesson you want to share with your readers. Sometimes you realize you want to write a memoir about a topic before the topic has actually resolved, even as you’ve learned so much through the experience. So how do you start writing when the events of “the end” are still probably in the future? Today we are exploring ways you can start the process of writing your memoir today, even if “the end” is still in the tomorrows.
Before we get into today’s post, we wanted to ask—do you have a plan for actually finishing your memoir? If not, we know you aren’t making the progress you hoped for. That’s why we developed The Memoir Method Checklist. This free guide (and video training!) will take you through every single step you need from idea to published marketable book. Grab it now at https://pageandpodium.com/checklist
Process over Product
Many memoirists come to the page eager to outline, structure, and “get the book right”—and that instinct makes sense. A strong memoir needs clarity around topic, message, and the arc that carries the reader from beginning to end. But for writers still living through the events they plan to write about, especially those navigating long, unresolved situations like court cases or ongoing conflicts, the ending simply isn’t available yet. And without an ending, the shape of the book can feel impossible to pin down.
This is where process becomes your lifeline. High‑achieving writers often want to leap straight to the polished product, but when the story hasn’t resolved, focusing on structure too early only leads to frustration. Instead, this stage is about gathering clay—capturing experiences, insights, emotional shifts, and the evolving nature of the conflict. You’re not shaping the book yet; you’re collecting the material that will eventually allow you to shape it well.
Gathering clay isn’t just spinning your wheels. All writers need to put work into the development and prewriting stages of writing, whether they are living in the midst of their experience or writing with twenty years of distance.
By leaning into development work now, you’re quietly building the foundation that will make the eventual product stronger, more coherent, and more aligned with the truth of your story once the ending finally arrives.
Honor the Urge to Begin
This first tip may surprise you, especially since we champions outlines and planning, but when you don’t yet know the ending of your memoir, you can simply let yourself write what you want to write. We’re not suggesting that you abandon the goal of outlining altogether and pants your way through, but most writers already know a handful of scenes that will belong in the book no matter how the story ultimately resolves. Give yourself permission to put some words on the page. Label them well, and consider them not as “page one of your draft” but as warming up and gathering clay that will be ready to fit into your overall shape when the time comes.
Many people jump into drafting too early because it feels like the only way to “prove” the project is real. Instead of fighting that urge, channel it. Write the scenes tugging at you. Capture the moments you already know belong in the story.
These early pieces won’t be your final, polished chapters, and they may not appear in the book in their original form. But the act of writing them gives you clarity, momentum, and a sense of commitment. It helps you understand the emotional terrain of your story long before you’re ready to define its shape. So set aside time to write a few of those scenes. They don’t need to be perfect or permanent—they just need to exist. Letting yourself begin is often the thing that unlocks everything that comes next.
Focus on Message
When you’re in the middle of a trauma, conflict, or long‑running struggle—especially something externally controlled like a court case—your sense of the “takeaway” message can shift constantly. Some days you feel one truth, the next day another. That’s normal. It’s also why this stage is the perfect time to journal specifically about your message.
And we do mean journal, which is a different mindset and approach than drafting. You’re not creating a tidy document that will be ready for feedback and readers, but true, uncensored journaling. When you’re dealing with someone who has harmed you, dismissed you, or holds power over your life, there is often a deep, justified rage that builds with nowhere to go. Many writers in these situations are also advised to stay quiet publicly, which removes the outlets they’d normally rely on. Journaling becomes the one place where you can say everything you’re not allowed to say anywhere else.
Be indulgent. Be angry, sad, petty, hopeful—whatever is true in the moment. As you pour all of that onto the page, you’ll start to see patterns in what you believe, what you’ve learned so far, and what you hope the eventual takeaway will be. Next to none of this writing is likely to appear in your memoir verbatim, but it will give you clarity, depth, and emotional coherence. That’s all raw material you’ll refine later.
Journaling on your message counts. It builds momentum, even when the story itself can’t move forward yet. And it gives you the internal clarity you’ll need when it’s finally time to shape the book
Play with Structure
Remember that beginnings and endings are always chosen. There is no “natural” endpoint—your life keeps unfolding long after the moment of transformation your book will eventually capture. Writers who are already past their major conflict often find it easier to choose that arbitrary end bracket. But when you’re still in the middle of something externally controlled, it can feel impossible to decide where the story stops.
That’s why this stage is the perfect time to play with structure. Even if you don’t know how the story ends, you do know what led up to it. You know the inciting incident, the turning points, the escalation, the emotional beats. So start sketching. Build a loose skeleton outline. Experiment with different ways the chapters might unfold. Try on various shapes—linear, braided, framed, circular—without committing to any of them. These are working outlines, nothing more.
The goal isn’t to finalize anything. It’s to remind yourself that you’re not stuck. You can’t control the ending yet, but you can absolutely start arranging the building blocks you already have. Many of our coaching clients have done this long before their endings were clear, and it gave them both momentum and confidence. You can do the same.
The point is growth, not victory
When you’re writing a memoir in the middle of an unresolved situation, it’s easy to believe the ending has to be a win. But memoir isn’t about triumph—it’s about transformation. A strong memoir shows conflict, change, and forward momentum toward a point, but that point does not have to be a courtroom victory or any other external success. Too often, writers assume the emotional tone of their book must match the outcome of their situation, as though the court, the employer, or the ex‑partner gets to decide whether their story is “worth” telling.
That’s simply not true.
I once worked with a client in the middle of an employment discrimination lawsuit who told me she wasn’t sure she could write a memoir if she lost her case. “Who wants to read about someone who didn’t win?” she asked. But losing a case doesn’t erase the growth that happened through the struggle. In fact, some of the most powerful memoirs come from moments when life didn’t go the way we hoped. Readers aren’t looking for a victory lap. They’re looking for humanity, resilience, and the internal shift that allows someone to move forward even when the external outcome is disappointing.
So don’t pin the worth of your book to the result of your court case or any other external decision. The ending of the legal process and the emotional ending of your memoir are not the same thing. Your growth will happen regardless of the verdict, and that growth is what readers care about. You may not be ready to outline the final chapters yet, but you can release the idea that your book’s success depends on someone else’s ruling. Your story is bigger than that, and your transformation is already underway.
No drafting process is perfect
In this strange in‑between stage, remember that even if you knew every detail of your story, even if you had a flawless outline and total clarity about the ending, you would still write pages that never make it into the final book. That’s simply the nature of drafting. Every memoirist writes scenes that get cut, rewritten, reshaped, or completely transformed. No one writes a clean first draft, and no one is supposed to.
This period of “pre‑pre‑writing” is not wasted time. You’re generating material, exploring ideas, and discovering what the book wants to become. You may not be able to outline the ending yet, but you can keep building momentum. You’re not behind; you’re just doing the early work under more complicated circumstances.
The external constraints you’re facing are real and painful, but they don’t get to decide whether you move forward. You still control your growth, your voice, and the point you’re ultimately moving toward. When the ending finally arrives—and it will—you’ll already have the scenes, the message work, the structural play, and the emotional clarity that every memoir requires.
Lean into this stage. Let it feel like part of your human expression rather than a pause. You’re doing the work you would have needed to do anyway, just in a slightly different order. And when the time comes to write in earnest, you’ll be ready.
PS. Searching the internet for writing, publishing, and book marketing advice can be exhausting to say the least! If you’re ready for hands on, one-on-one support for your memoir, check out The Memoir Method. We’d love to welcome you into this nine-month group program specially designed for women writing their first memoirs. And don’t forget, if you’d like to chat with Amanda about the program (or any other services we offer), you can book a free consult any time!
