Whether you call it writer’s block or the frustration of writing in circles, getting stuck in the mud and not knowing how to make consistent progress is a very common problem we hear from writers every day. The mud writers get stuck in is the quagmire of decisions. Writers face either too many options, or a lack of clarity in how to make their own idea fit all the expectations of what a good memoir should be. Writing advice is not hard to find through books, the internet, and various kinds of programs, but sometimes it’s difficult to apply generalized advice to the specific hurdles writers face. When you’re considering all your options, expectations, and navigating that sea of advice, there is one question you can ask yourself that can help you find clarity and unstick your memoir: do I need more constraints or do I need more freedom?
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
Constraints vs Freedom
Though we don’t always think about creative endeavor through this lens, we are always navigating between these two forces, especially when we want both an excellent finished book and an enjoyable, meaningful creative experience along the way.
When we talk about constraints, we’re simply talking about limitations. But those limitations come from many places and not all of them are good. Our own self‑doubt, which tells us we must write within a narrow set of expectations, the rules we absorbed in childhood English classes, and the rigid “musts” we’ve picked up from well‑meaning writing advice are all constraints on our process.
However, constraints can also be helpful guardrails. They narrow the number of choices available as we move through a book, and since that long series of choices—choices that create movement, conflict, change, and a sense of direction—can feel infinite, constraints can be incredibly helpful to actually take real steps forward. They reduce decision fatigue and establish a process that helps us make and stick to our decisions.
On the other end of the spectrum is freedom. Writers often believe we need all the freedom, especially when we’re working on a deeply personal story, a memory that matters, or a lesson we’ve never seen reflected in a book before. That instinct isn’t wrong. When we’re doing something new, we need flexibility. We need room to experiment, to break rules, to ignore advice that doesn’t fit the kind of book we’re trying to write.
Freedom is essential. We need to feel that we can tell our story honestly, without camouflaging our real feelings. We need to use the language, structure, and format that feel true to us. We want the book to feel like it belongs to us. And often that means pushing ourselves to be more open, more expansive, more willing to step outside the assumptions about how a memoir “should” be written.
Constraints and freedom aren’t just opposites—they’re companions. Increasing one necessarily decreases the other. Expanding our freedom means loosening certain constraints; tightening our constraints means giving up some freedom. These two forces work together constantly, helping us navigate each new choice, each new problem, each new moment of uncertainty. They help us limit our options so the work feels manageable, while also expanding our creativity so new ideas can emerge—ideas we might never have considered if we were operating under rigid, inherited rules.
Consequences of imbalance
One of the most common issues we see is having far too many constraints and far too little freedom, and this creates the mud writers get stuck in. Because writing is a series of choices, constraints are meant to narrow those choices in helpful ways. But when the limitations stack up, no option feels “good enough” because constraints can put us in that right or wrong, black or white binary thinking that is unhelpful in the creative process. We become so focused on doing things “right” that we forget there were ever other possibilities. Eventually, every decision—structure, voice, chapter layout—feels impossible to get right, and many writers simply stop. The manuscript goes into a drawer, and the real problem goes unnoticed: we’ve given ourselves almost no freedom to work with.
Other writers eschew all constraints—and sometimes all advice with it—and embrace nothing freedom in their process. While this is often for a while, questions start to come up. Writers revisit their drafts from the beginning and realize their idea has managed to morph or even get completely lost in the free-wheeling process. Free writing can be enormously useful as a daily technique—but not necessarily in making measurable progress towards a clearly defined goal over an extended period of time.
Some writers swing between the extremes. Many of us are strong DIYers who trust our ability to figure things out. That confidence often leads us to start with a rigid set of rules, realize we’ve made the process miserable, and then throw everything out in favor of total freedom. While the instinct makes sense, it creates a new challenge. We end up starting over in a landscape with no boundaries, which is just as difficult. For those of us who struggle to live in the gray areas, the pendulum swing is familiar. We land in all constraints or all freedom, when what we actually need is a workable middle ground where clarity and creativity can support each other.
Development Guardrails
Development is often the stage many writers underestimate. In our Memoir Method™ program, we guide our writers through this crucial stage where we dial in the topic, clarify the message, decide what belongs in the book, shape everything into a purposeful arc, finalize an outline with professional feedback, and create a writing plan. Development is, at its core, the process of making a plan—and a plan is simply a set of constraints. The beauty of a thoughtful development process is that we build in freedom through the constraints we choose to work by—and which we deliberately let go of.
Some constraints are necessary. Every book needs a structure, even if it’s experimental or takes the form of memoir‑in‑essays. But within that requirement, we have enormous freedom to choose the structure that best supports our story. Our Memoir Method™ is designed to hold both truths: it gives writers enough flexibility to shape the book they want while ensuring they don’t end up without a structure at all.
A common example of imbalance during development is the pressure to use the Hero’s Journey. While Hero’s Journey can work, most women writing memoir find that it creates far too many constraints and far too little freedom. Trying to force a lived experience into thirteen rigid steps usually results in frustration, not clarity. (And as we’ve talked about before, The Hero’s Journey was not meant to be a how-to.)
Believing you “must” use the Hero’s Journey belief piles on constraint after constraint, while your story may not fit into the shape those constraints make. When we ask whether we need more constraints or more freedom in this situation, the answer is almost always more freedom. We need to loosen the grip of an external structure and make more room for the truth of our own story.
When we ignore this imbalance, writers often try to force their memoir into a shape that doesn’t belong to them. The project loses energy. The joy drains out. And without that sense of connection to our why, it becomes nearly impossible to reach the halfway point, let alone the end. The good news is that there are many ways to structure a memoir—none of which require checking in thirteen times with Joseph Campbell. There is always room to choose a structure that supports the story we’re actually trying to tell.
Word count targets
Another place this constraints‑versus‑freedom question shows up is in chapter length. In the Memoir Method, we suggest a simple starting point: imagine a 20‑chapter book with roughly 3,000 words per chapter. It’s a helpful early constraint, not a rule.
Writers often come back saying a chapter feels more like 2,000 or 2,500 words. That’s the moment to ask whether we need more constraints or more freedom. Almost always, the answer is more freedom. Forcing a chapter to hit 3,000 words leads to filler your reader doesn’t need. Letting the chapter be the length it naturally wants to be keeps the writing honest and clean.
The same applies when a chapter runs long. Drafting requires a wide freedom dial because the first draft is discovery, not perfection. Revision is where constraints become useful again.
Freeing your voice
Many writers expect their voice to grow and evolve as they write, but some writers expect that evolution to move in a very specific direction. Usually, that direction is toward something we label as “literary”—a word many writers quietly translate to mean smarter, better, or more impressive.
In the industry, “literary” is a somewhat charged word and highly disputed term. But because the term is so often misunderstood, it can become a constraint that limits our ability to move freely through our own expression. And nothing matters more than sounding like ourselves.
Voice is especially tricky because we can become so convinced of where we think we should go that we ignore where our natural voice is already leading us. Again and again, we see that when writers follow their instincts—rather than a model of what they believe “good writing” should sound like—they end up with something far stronger than anything they could have forced themselves into. But when we keep dialing up constraints in the name of sounding literary, we often make the work worse, not better. Most women need more freedom, fewer constraints, and more trust in the voice that already lives inside the story.
One of the ways you can find your voice, especially if you’re having a hard time both hearing yourself in the writing while still having high standards, is through the workshop process. In the Memoir Method, we avoid falling into a feedback loop of draft after draft, as this generally doesn’t help as much as you might think in the long run. Instead, we focus on a month voice workshop, examining short sections with the goal of finding the strengths and pulling forward—not transforming to where it sounds like someone else.
Ultimately, freeing your voice means letting yourself write in the way that feels true, not in the way you imagine a “literary” writer would. Your readers want to hear from you—not a version of you shaped by someone else’s rules.
Constraints and freedom beyond the creative process
When it comes to publishing, writers often fall into one of two extremes. On one side, we see too many constraints: “I must get a traditional book deal or this book isn’t real.” Sometimes that constraint gets even narrower—“It has to be a Big Five deal.” When we lock ourselves into that kind of thinking, we eliminate our freedom to see the full range of opportunities available. Traditional publishing can be wonderful, but so can hybrid publishing or high‑quality self‑publishing. There is no hierarchy. The real question is: which path best serves the book?
When we recognize all three paths seem equally good, it can feel impossible to choose. In that case, we need to add constraints—but ones that come from us, not from external pressure. For example, we might say, “I don’t want to do this alone,” which rules out DIY self‑publishing, but still leaves room for supported self‑publishing or hybrid options. Or we might add constraints around budget, timeline, or the level of hands‑on support we want. The goal is to nudge the constraints up just enough that we feel empowered to make a decision.
The same dynamic shows up in marketing. Many writers assume they can’t market a book without a massive social media following. That’s a classic example of too many constraints—constraints that usually come from assumptions, not reality. There are countless ways to market a book, and most of them don’t require going viral on booktok.
Before we add new constraints, though, we need to reconnect with what feels good. Do we enjoy speaking? Workshops, keynotes, and trainings might be a natural fit. Do we prefer writing? Guest essays, op‑eds, or articles in places like Forbes Women or literary magazines can build visibility. Do we like creating our own content? A blog, podcast, or small social series might be the right path. Once we identify what feels aligned, we can add constraints that help us stay focused—our goals for the book, the time we have available, the audience we want to reach.
In both publishing and marketing, the question remains the same: do we need more constraints or more freedom? Adjusting that dial intentionally helps us move forward with clarity, confidence, and a sense of agency—just as it does in the creative process itself.
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!
