When you’re writing your first book, you don’t know what you don’t know. Now, really, that’s true of any field or any industry or any really big project you’re undertaking for the first time. There’s something about writing a book that can feel so daunting. Add to that if you’re writing a story about your own life, and it can be impossible to break through the self-doubt.
One of the best ways to push through is to be aware of the most common mistakes that other people tend to make. That way you can avoid the big four and get to your end destination, a beautiful book that tells the story of what you’ve lived through with the minimum amount of stress, anxiety, and procrastination.
Don’t Start Your Memoir at Birth
When writing a memoir, don’t start the story from birth.
Autobiographies usually begin from birth. In an autobiography or biography, the goal is to trace the life of either the author or another person in its entirety. This makes sense for a lot of the people that we read autobiographies and biographies of, because often, these are major historical figures.
The key is to identify the purpose of writing the memoir. If the goal is to offer guidance and support to others facing challenges that you faced, struggled with, and survived, the focus should be on the impactful parts of one’s life.
Similarly, if the aim is to create a record for future generations or family, the content can be tailored accordingly. For example, if you’re trying to document your story for your family, your kids and your grandchildren, and your great-grandchildren, a book is an amazing way to do that—and this type of book is definitely a great candidate for starting earlier in life.
Here’s an example of what I mean. We wrote a book called Oilman that was mostly written for the family. The author, Walter Dechant, unfortunately, passed away before the book came out. His family was so grateful to have those stories. We didn’t start at birth—we started when he was a teenager—but because the purpose was to record his legacy, it made sense to take a more sweeping approach.
But if you’re trying to help readers with something more specific, it makes much more sense to stay focused on that topic. Imagine, for example, that you’re trying to help somebody through something really tough—let’s say you escaped an abusive relationship with the risk of being murdered by your partner. Maybe you want to talk about your experiences and survival, making a truly amazing book. Imagine the potential to help numerous individuals, regardless of their gender identity, escape similar circumstances you managed to escape from. It’s an incredible opportunity.
In light of this narrative, it’s worth questioning whether including your birth and early childhood years truly enhances the impact of your story.
There could be instances where it does make sense. For instance, growing up in an abusive household might have shaped your inclination towards abusive relationships. While birth may not be a necessary starting place, you may want to weave in some memories from childhood to provide context.
Starting with a default opener like, “I was born in Georgia, December 3rd, 1954,” might not reflect a deliberate thought. Readers want to see you as a thoughtful storyteller who shares valuable learning about your experiences. Our interest lies in your story. Therefore, weighing the significance of your childhood, teenage years, and young adulthood is important, because those moments may or may not have much impact on the story your reader wants to explore. Don’t automatically start at birth. This approach is clichéd and best avoided.
Focus on your book’s purpose. That’s going to tell you whether your birth matters to the memoir.
Don’t Cut All the Fluff
The second common concern I often find, particularly from men, is the fear of including too much “fluff.” You might be surprised because a great deal of advice on the internet says to cut ruthlessly. However, when that happens, sometime too much is cut.
To illustrate this point, I’d like to draw your attention to an upcoming book, The Ignorant Man’s Son by Victor Hill, slated for release in October. An excerpt from the book’s first chapter shows this delicate balance. First read this short passage from the first chapter of the book:
“Granddaddy was a man I really looked up to. A man with a towering stature, the way he carried himself screamed integrity and honor. I always saw him coming and going with purpose, whether in work clothes or nicely dressed, he was a hardworking family man. I remember his smell so clearly, of bright, acidic aftershave and clean clothes dried on the line. He wore a hat, like so many men of that time, with the brim turned down in front. He walked with so much confidence. People just moved out of his way when he came down the street.
Maybe it wasn’t just his confidence. Maybe it was the snub-nosed 38 pistol he carried. [chuckles] That gun was like a badge of honor where I come from. But most of all, Granddaddy was a family man.”
Now, let’s consider a fluff-free version:
“I love my Granddaddy. He was real confident, stood tall, hard worker.”
While the second version is more succinct, it lacks the vivid sensory details that create a more immersive experience for the reader. These details allow us to hear, see, and even smell the scene, fostering a connection with the story that is often associated with fiction. For instance, the mention of the 38 pistol adds depth to the character of Granddaddy, even though the gun doesn’t play a direct role in the plot.
It’s important not to overzealously trim every detail from your memoir. Readers need time to process the narrative, and a balance between pacing and depth is crucial. While you shouldn’t bog down the story with excessive detail—maybe we don’t need to know what you ate for breakfast the day your dog went missing!—remember that memoirs are about embracing the human experience. Readers seek a genuine connection with your journey, and sensory descriptions play a significant role in achieving this connection. So, the second key piece of advice is to resist the urge to cut all perceived fluff, as this could undermine the richness of your storytelling.
Make Sure You’re Not Looking to Name Names
Unfortunately, the third common mistake I often come across among memoir writers is deeply related to our human nature—holding a grudge against those who hurt us. When you set out to write your memoir, it’s crucial to move beyond wanting to name names. Let me clarify: it’s not simply about omitting the names of friends and family from your memoir. That would be terrible advice. As I’ve discussed on platforms like LinkedIn and other social channels, the notion of using pseudonyms to protect yourself legally falls short. The issue is much more complicated.
What I mean when I say make sure you’re not looking to name names is that you should avoid using your memoir for revenge. If your story involves difficult experiences, instances where you battled against odds, faced betrayal, or dealt with people who let you down, the act of writing can be a healthy way to process the experience, find meaning and learn. However, remember that journaling and crafting a memoir are not the same.
If your primary aim is to expose and publicly call out those who wronged you, you’re on a dangerous path. Not only might you face legal or community repercussions, but you might also sabotage your own progress and not finish your book.
Many individuals get stuck at the stage of wanting to name names due to overwhelming negative emotions such as anger and resentment. While such feelings are valid and justified, they indicate that you might not be in the right headspace to write your memoir yet. Give yourself the time to process these emotions and heal before putting pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard.
Once you’ve worked through these emotions, you’ll come to the realization that the actions of others were not about you, but rather reflections of their own issues. What truly matters is the impact these experiences had on shaping who you are today.
Did they make you stronger? Did they make you savvy? More perceptive? Perhaps they made you more fearful and less trusting. All of those responses are valid. But your memoir is about you, not about seeking revenge.
Once you overcome the desire to name names, your memoir will be stronger and more authentic.
Don’t Cater to Everyone
The fourth and final mistake I commonly encounter when engaging with new memoirists is the inclination to try to cater to everyone’s interests.
Allow me to illustrate this point with an example involving a client we worked with. His memoir was primarily intended for his family, but the story was amazing. They had lived all over the world and had amazing experiences. His father was a powerful leader in one of the countries they lived in. His mother’s accomplishments included teaching herself multiple languages and helping children gain access to education where it wasn’t common. The narrative was captivating, and I thoroughly enjoyed being part of its creation.
Early on, we faced the question of defining the target market—a topic I frequently emphasize. When discussing the potential readership, the author suggested, “I think everyone would love this.” When it came to clarifying the purpose of the memoir, he said, “I think the purpose depends on who the reader is.” This rationale is understandable, given our exposure to widespread mass communication. We often find ourselves exposed to similar themes, images, and stories. It can seem like everyone is watching the same popular show of the moment, like Ted Lasso, for instance.
It’s easy to think, “My book is for everybody.” This presumption might seem like the optimal strategy for achieving high sales figures. But this is a misconception. The reason has to do with target audiences. Part of identifying your target audience involves considering what other types of books your potential readers enjoy. This is often referred to as comparative titles or comps, and it aids in understanding the genre.
With this author, we landed on an “international family saga.” This is a distinct genre that has experienced intermittent popularity, attracting readers who are intrigued by diverse global settings, family dynamics, and adventurous narratives.
When I inquired about the genre, he mentioned aspects of romance, thrillers, and family components. He even suggested a connection to prescriptive nonfiction, particularly books that offer advice on parenting and family dynamics. These represent four distinct reader groups. Trying to accommodate all these preferences may result in disappointing them all.
Romance readers, for instance, have distinct expectations for their genre—clear structures and familiar tropes. Family nonfiction readers, on the other hand, seek practical takeaways, tips, and even worksheets and activities for our kids.
It’s important to acknowledge that your book is not for everyone, and that’s okay. In fact, it’s better that way. When you define your target audience, you can effectively reach them. If your book aims to cater to everyone, you’ll struggle to find a starting point. Attempting to include all these different markets and ideas will overwhelm your readers and lead to a lack of focus.
Your book needs to be about one thing. This focused approach will help word-of-mouth marketing, assist in identifying your market, ensure your book is tight and clean, and give your book a sense of purpose that resonates with your readers.
I know these are not little mistakes like forgetting to run spell check or ensuring consistent tab indents—those would be simpler to address. The biggest issues I see new memoirists tend to make are more substantial and relate to the way we think about our book before beginning the writing process.
This is why I’d like to introduce you to an additional resource that can guide you through these four tips and ensure your book idea avoids falling into these traps. This tool will assist you in covering all aspects and ensuring you’re truly prepared to embark on the writing journey.
Please reach out and share your progress. I’m excited and curious to hear about your writing journey and if you need some support, we are here at Page & Podium. Happy writing!
