How I Became a Life Story Writer

 

Ever wondered how someone ends up helping people write their life stories? For me, it’s been a long, unexpected journey — one that’s taken me from teaching to illness, to mindfulness and celebrancy, and finally to discovering the power of personal stories. 

 

A Childhood Spent in Books

As a child, I was a voracious reader — the little girl always buried in a book. I’d read by torchlight under the bedclothes when I was supposed to be asleep, and go on holiday with a carrier bag full of library books. Alice in Wonderland, What Katy Did, The Borrowers, The Secret Seven, Winnie the Pooh … I adored them all. 

 

As much as I loved the stories, I was equally fascinated by the words themselves — how they built into sentences that drew me into other worlds. I dreamed of becoming an author one day. 

 

Losing — and Finding — My Way

But somehow, I could never come up with a viable story idea. And I’d heard that “real authors” couldn’t help themselves — they were always writing. As I grew older, I concluded that obviously, I wasn’t one of them. So I gave up the dream and trained as a primary school teacher.

 

Teaching didn’t suit me; I was hopeless at discipline, and the accepted norms of how children should behave grated on me. Later, I became a peripatetic music teacher and eventually moved into community music projects — roles that allowed greater freedom in how I related to children and young people. Still, I often felt like a square peg in a round hole.

 

Then my life was upended. After a year or so of worsening joint pain, constant throat infections, and crippling fatigue, I was diagnosed with an incurable autoimmune disease. For a while I struggled on, but eventually had to accept that I would have to give up work — at least for the time being.

 

A New Path Through Volunteering

Eventually my condition improved enough to try some voluntary work. I’d always admired the Samaritans — I’d even called them myself once, in the early hours of the morning when my marriage was falling apart. The quiet presence of another human being, whose only purpose was to be there in that moment, helped me get through the night. Now I had a chance to give something back.

 

That decision set me on a completely new path. Supporting people at some of the darkest times in their lives was undeniably challenging, but I found it incredibly rewarding. I discovered strengths and abilities I never knew I had, and it sparked in me a desire to shape my life around helping others through difficult times.

 

From Mindfulness to Celebrancy

Years earlier, I had discovered for myself the benefits of meditation, and now I trained to teach a ground-breaking eight-week mindfulness course with the decidedly non-snappy title of Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction. It’s a transformative programme that helps people see life’s challenges from a different perspective and equips them with skills to navigate them more skilfully. Later, I became a civil funeral celebrant — working with people facing one of life’s most painful experiences: bereavement.

 

So what has all this to do with life story writing? Quite a lot, as it turns out. 

 

There's no set wording for a civil funeral; each ceremony is written for a unique individual and their bereaved family. The central element is the tribute - an evocation of the person's essence, their story. At its simplest, it's the story of a life. 

 

The Seed of Life Story Writer

I loved everything about being a funeral celebrant. Demanding and stressful, but also deeply rewarding. And finally, I was — in some measure — a writer! 

 

But one of the saddest things was how often, when I asked about someone’s early life, the family would say, “We don’t really know much about that part of her life. It’s a shame we didn’t ask her when she was still alive.”

 

And so the seed of Life Story Writer was planted — recording people’s life stories while they’re still here to tell the tale.

 

 

Learning the Craft

I was then to learn quite what I’d taken on! Writing a thousand words for a tribute is one thing; managing a manuscript of thirty or fifty thousand is quite another.

 

I had to learn how to structure long-form writing, how to bring scenes to life with action, dialogue and setting. I learned to research family and social history, restore old photographs, design simple book covers, and format files for printing. I even taught myself a bit of website design.

 

Finally, I was ready to launch. Ordinary people could now have their stories preserved for their children and grandchildren — told in their own voice, the way they wanted it told. Technically, that makes me a ghostwriter — but since that term often conjures up celebrity memoirs (and to some, sounds a bit like cheating), I settled on Life Story Writer.

Stories Worth Telling

It all coincided with a downturn in my health and a need to step back from celebrancy, and it felt utterly right.

 

Since then, I’ve written stories for people from every walk of life — doctors, electricians, teachers, musicians, factory workers. People who’ve changed the world, and people who’ve simply lived good lives and done right by their families and neighbours.

 

For some, it’s a chance to highlight a social injustice; for others, a story of triumph over adversity. For many, it’s simply about showing their family where they came from and how they became who they are.

 

The growing popularity of family history websites and programmes shows how powerful this urge is. And while Life Story Writer isn’t specifically designed to help people through difficult times, the way funeral celebrancy and teaching Mindfulness are, telling your story to a non-judgmental listener and seeing it set down in words can help you reflect and gain perspective. Research increasingly shows that telling our stories supports good mental health. For me — and for my clients — it’s always a journey, and always an enriching experience.

Every Life Is a Lesson

Something I learned as a funeral celebrant is that no life is ordinary. Every life is a lesson in how to be human — each one unique, and each one a privilege to share.

If you’ve ever thought about writing down your own story — or helping a loved one do so — I’d love to hear from you. You can find out more at www.lifestorywriter.co.uk, or message me to talk about how we can capture your memories before they fade.

What is a ghostwriter and why should you use one to write your life story?

 

The definition of a ghostwriter

A ghostwriter is someone who’s hired to write a book (or any other written material) on behalf of someone else who will be credited with its authorship. When we think of ghostwriters, we often have in mind celebrity autobiographies. But any form of writing might be written by a ghost - novels, how-to books, memoirs, thought leadership books, magazine articles, journalism, etc.

Copyright for the work lies with the author (the person who's hired a ghost to write their book). Most ghostwritten books don’t credit the writer at all, and there’s usually a non-disclosure agreement as part of the contract. However, ghosts are increasingly being given credit in the form of ‘with John Smith’ or ‘and John Smith’ following the author’s name.

Why do people use ghostwriters?

Often it’s because the ‘author’ has a great idea or message, or skills and knowledge they want to get ‘out there’. Or perhaps they’ve lived an interesting life that would make a good autobiography or memoir, but they don’t have the skills to write, structure and edit a several hundred-page book. Sometimes it’s because they simply don’t have the time to write the book themselves.
Then there are the books that are released under the name of well-known and highly marketable novelists. Using ghosts allows publishers and authors (and sometimes the estates of deceased authors) to continue churning out new novels in far greater numbers than if the author was writing them all him or herself. Ever wondered how authors like James Patterson appear to be so super-productive, or authors, such as Robert Ludlum, still seem to be rwriting books after their deaths? Ghostwriters. (In the case of the latter, they’re often based on ideas and notes that the author left behind.) 

Why do ghostwriters do it? Don't they want to be credited for their work?

Being a ghostwriter requires a range of skills beyond the writing itself - establishing a harmonious working relationship with the author, good communication, research skills, interviewing, and the subtle ability to write in the author’s own ‘voice’ so it sounds as though the credited author has written the book. Most ghosts take great pride in the ability to ‘disappear’ and derive great satisfaction from the work they do. The books I write under as the Life Story Writer are written in the first person, as if by the person whose story I’m telling; it’s their name that goes on the front as the author. One of my greatest joys is to receive a comment like this one from a recent client: ‘the family said they smiled, laughed and cried all the way through reading it. It was like their Dad was talking directly to them.’

Isn't it immoral?

There's a point of view that, somehow, using a ghostwriter is 'cheating. But from the perspective of the ghost, they’re paid to write books they would never have produced otherwise and get to work on a range of exciting and varied projects with interesting clients. Ghostwriting projects can be well paid and most ghostwriters are very happy with the work they do.

From the perspective of the reading public, it’s true that there can be a sense of betrayal when you discover your favourite author whose books you’ve been loyally buying and reading for the last ten years is no longer actually writing them. But the fact that people keep buying and reading those books speaks for itself, and often the ideas and storylines have been created by the original author who hands the writing work over to a ghost.

In the case of ‘how to ‘books, thought leadership books, and even some memoirs and autobiographies, there’s an even greater justification that the ideas and stories contained in a book belong to the credited author, and, as long as the writer is properly rewarded for their work, it’s not a problem. According to the Constant Content blog,‘ghost writers have become a critical part of the publishing industry’. A fact recognised in the US earlier this year, with the first ever Gathering of the Ghosts, sponsored by the American Society of Journalists and Authors and Gotham Ghostwriters.

I'd like to write my life story for my family, but I don't know how to start/I'm a bit overwhelmed by it/I haven't got the writing skills/I haven't got the time.

All excellent reasons for using a ghostwriter!

Think of it as hiring someone who will listen non-judgementally to your story, prompt you when you miss something out, do further research to fill in contextual background, take the time to work with you to structure your story so that it flows and comes to life on the page - and then write it as though it was you telling your story yourself!

What to look for when choosing someone to write your life story

Many ghost writers are self-employed; others work through agencies. A quick internet search will give you lots of options at varying prices, so it’s important to know what to look for, and choose someone who will approach your project with integrity and professionalism. Here’s a checklist:


You should be able to meet and talk with your proposed ghostwriter before you commit to going ahead. You will be committing to working closely together over several months, so you need to be sure that you feel comfortable with the writer you choose.

The nature of ghostwriting means that ghostwriters generally aren’t able to tell you about projects they’ve previously worked on, but they should be able to show you samples of their work

They should give you a clear explanation of what the costs will be, and the process for payment. Some writers charge a set amount per word; others have fixed price packages which include a specific length, number of interview hours, number of photographs, number of finished books offered for a given fee.

Although the ghost will write the book, you will need to be actively involved in the project too, and your ghost should give your clear information about how they work - how, when and w here the interviews will happen, time scales for the project, what the process is for reading and amending the text, the visual aspects of the book including photographs and interior and cover design.

Your writer should provide a contract covering the above matters, as well as issues such as: how to withdraw; what happens if you need to change the arrangements mid-project; who will own the copyright of the book; what happens if your requirements change during the project, for example, if you realise you need more words than you anticipated; copyright and confidentiality.

Conclusion

It’s a big decision, choosing someone to write your life story for you, so do your research before you commit. Once you’ve found a writer you feel comfortable with and got the details set up, enjoy the process! It’ll be interesting, challenging, and hopefully a lot of fun, and you’ll end up with book of your life to treasure and pass on to your loved ones.

I'm a ghostwriter specialising in writing life story, memoir and autobiography for anyone who wants to share their story. You don't have to be famous or indeed think that you've done anything special with your life. Some of my favourite projects have been for people who think they're 'just ordinary'. In my view, no-one is ordinary, and everyone has a story to tell. For more information head over to my website, www.lifestorywriter.co.uk, or send me an email at penny@lifestorywriter.co.uk

It’s all in the detail—how to immerse your reader in your world

 

If you want your story to be impossible to put down, we—your readers—need to experience what you’re experiencing, feel what you’re feeling. It’s what makes us care about you, drawing us deeper into your story, keeping us turning the pages even when the hour is late or we should be doing something else.

‘I’m not writing a novel’, I hear you say. ‘I’m just telling my story.’ But remember why you’re doing this. Whether you’ve aspirations to publish your story, or your purpose is simply to share the story of your life with your family, it’s what live for them and grips their attention to the very end. And even if you’re writing for yourself, evoking the moments of your story just as you experienced them is part of telling your truth. And the answer is what celebrated writer and teacher of memoir, Mary Karr, calls ‘sacred carnality’.

Engage the senses

Activating the five senses is fundamental—sight, taste, touch, hearing and smell. It’s an aspect of the ‘show don’t tell’ maxim. Don’t say there was a bang—let us hear it!

Which of these puts you right inside the story?

I heard a loud crash. Running back the way I’d come, I saw that part of a huge conifer had broken away and fallen across the path.

or

Thunder resonated through the small wood. Running back the way I’d come, I realised that what I’d interpreted as thunder was, in fact, the sound of a mighty multi-stemmed conifer tearing itself apart. I looked up at the raw wound on its magnificent bole where a great section had been ripped away and crashed to the ground, crushing its more diminutive fellows. There it lay. Right where I’d been moments before.

It’s not enough to write: ‘I walked into the cafe and sat at a table.’ What kind of cafe? Warm and cosy, or basic and functional? What did you see that gave it that feel? Was it crowded or empty? What did the other people look like? What drew your attention? As Stephen King says in his writing bible, On Writing, a memoir of the craft, you need ‘to supply a photograph in words’.


And that’s just one sense. What about the others? Back in that cafe, what did you hear? What did you smell, feel and, no doubt, eventually taste? Immerse us in your experience of the moment.

    

Don’t overdo it

Beware of shoe-horning in details just for the sake of it—every detail must serve a purpose. Detail that doesn’t feel natural makes your prose sound laboured and contrived. Instead of immersing us in your story, you create distance and distract us from what your story’s really about.

 

Imagine you’ve just described the day you finally left your abusive partner. Sitting on a hillside, you watch the sun go down. A symbolic moment. You’ve included lots of visual detail, the sound of the birds, the scent of the grasses and the damp earth. We know what it was like to be there. Then you realise you haven’t included the sense of taste. ‘Hmmm. Maybe I could put in a bit about the sandwich I ate?’ I’m joking, of course, but you get the point. Unless food is a theme in your journey, it’s going to feel mechanical and be a distraction.

The details you choose need to pay their way, either by supporting your theme, or paving the way for what’s coming next, or fleshing out your protagonist’s character. After all, what we pay attention indicates a lot about the kind of person we are. Irrelevant details distract and distance us; the Russian playwright Anton Chekhov famously used to tell young playwrights that, ‘if in Act One you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then it must fire in the last act.’ Most of the time, two or three senses is enough. For more on this, read Stephen King’s brilliant Imagery and the Third Eye.

Is the sense of smell really the most evocative?

It’s long been a truism that our sense of smell is the most powerful for evoking memory, and there is some truth in this. Smells are handled by the olfactory bulb, which sends information directly to the limbic system, the regions of the brain related to emotion and memory (The Harvard Gazette). It’s what creates those moments of feeling transported back to your childhood. But recent research has shown that it’s not so simple. So don’t get too hung up on it. Smell sensations are as important, but no more so, than the others. The key is selecting the right details, that serve your story.

The sixth sense?

No, I don’t mean extra-sensory perception, but our internal sensations. What sensations did you experience inside your body that day you were so terrified about the outcome of your husband’s operation? Nausea? Tight chest? Needing to pee? We often forget about these internal indicators of our emotions, which can signal what’s going on inside our heads without a lame, ‘I was frightened’. 

How to learn

Google will find you endless writing prompts to practice using sensory details in your work, but I’m with Marion Roach: if you’re going to get this project done, ‘from this moment on you are writing with purpose and are no longer merely practicing’ (Marion Roach, The Memoir Project). 

So remember why you started, pick a scene from your story and rewrite it to include as much sensory detail as possible. Have a thesaurus by you to help you come up with specific words to make your description detailed and unique. More than likely, you’ll end up with way too much. Now begins the process of honing it down, deciding which details serve your story by creating anticipation for what’s to come, bringing out your theme, or giving us insight into your personality. It’ll take a while, but instead of planning to write your life story, you’ll be writing it.


Time to get out that paper and pen and make a start!

I'm a ghostwriter specialising in writing life story, memoir and autobiography for anyone who wants to share their story. For more information head over to my website, www.lifestorywriter.co.uk, or send me an email at penny@lifestorywriter.co.uk

How to structure your life story, Part Two

In How to Structure your Life Story Part One, we discussed why a writer of life story, autobiography or memoir should employ structures for their similar to those utilised by writers of fiction. Fiction writers use many different approaches to structuring a story, some simple, others much more complex, and some with fun names like The Hero’s Journey, Freytag’s Pyramid, The Snowflake Method, and Save the Cat.

You can find in-depth outlines for all these and more on Reedsy’s platform for everything writing and publishing-related here. But for the purpose of this post, I’m going to keep things simple and look at the three I think are most helpful for anyone writing their life story.

Knowing your purpose

In my previous post, I looked at reasons why you might be writing your life story–your purpose–beyond a simple record of events. For instance, you might want your family to understand what made you the person you are, or help others by sharing the story of how you coped with serious illness.

Publishers of memoir call these kinds of themes, or messages, the ‘takeaway’; ‘What will the reader take away from this story?’ Whether you call it a theme, a message or the takeaway, this is what will inform your story structure. 

Even in an autobiography you can’t (and wouldn’t want to) include everything that happened in your life. Once you know what the takeaway is, it’s easier to prioritise what to include and what to leave out. So knowing your purpose is a crucial step.

Beginnings, middles and ends

We’ve all heard the adage that a story needs a beginning, a middle and an end, and this approach does have the virtue of simplicity. If you’ve got some material already written, either by using my ‘one anecdote at a time’ method, or another approach, you might try this exercise:

 

1. Give each of your individual anecdotes or stories a title (they won’t appear in the final text, they're just to help you plan your story).

2. Get three pieces of paper and head them ‘Beginning’, ‘Middle’ and ‘End’. 

3. Decide which category each of your anecdotes belongs in and add its title to the relevant sheet. If you like, you could put them on post-it notes to make it easier to move them around.

Just doing this exercise may be enlightening. You might realise that a crucial part of your story is missing, something that explains why you took a particular course of action at a particular time, or the consequences of that action, for instance.

 

It will also start the process of giving your story a shape that will make it a more satisfying read. Imagine, for example, that your takeaway is ‘we need to grab opportunities when they arise’. Having organised your anecdotes into beginning, middle and end, you may realise there were moments where you didn’t grab the opportunities, and the consequences of that. Or, that certain incidents helped you learn that lesson.

 

Even an autobiography may not be written in strictly chronological order. To highlight your theme or message, for example, you may choose to group a series of anecdotes that weren’t contemporaneous, or choose to introduce a particular person who had an influence on you at a particular point in your story. Knowing the shape of your story will help you make those decisions.

 

If you haven’t begun writing yet, you can take your three pieces of paper and use the categories to decide what to include or not before you’ve even put pen to paper. 

Either way, you’ll end up with an outline for your story that keeps it focused on what you actually want to say - your theme, message or takeaway.

~ ~ ~

The Three Act Structure

The Three Act Structure is a development of the basic beginning, middle and end format, and is used in a lot of fiction, as well as film. Each act includes specific story elements: 

 

Act One sets the scene and introduces the reader to your normal world–where you lived, what your life was like, the important people in it–before anything changes. In autobiography, this would most likely centre around your childhood and adolescence, or even a specific part of your childhood. In a memoir, it’ll outline how things were before the main events of your story.

 

Act Two tells of the ups and downs and the people you encountered on your journey, how you responded to them, and how you grew and changed as a result. In fiction, this is where the central character encounters the story’s major conflict and the climax, and where they do or don’t succeed in overcoming it. A single climax moment may not be appropriate to your story, but few of us get through life without confronting some challenges along the way. How we respond to them and what we learn are often what define us and bring the greatest change. So they’re going to be an important part of any life story.

In fiction, Act Three resolves the major conflict, ties up any loose ends, and achieves a ‘new normal’. In your life story, it’s where you reflect on what you’ve learned; there may also be elements of resolution and reaching a new normal, particularly if you’re writing a memoir.

 

You can use the same process of giving your anecdote titles then placing them under Act One, Act Two and Act Three to get you started.

Examples of stories that use the Three Act Structure are The Wizard of Oz, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone, and The Hobbit.

This is a very basic description of the Three Act Structure with particular reference to writing your life story. If you’re interested in exploring this structure more deeply, there are numerous guides to be found online. Another version of the beginning, middle and end structure is Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, which might be especially useful if there’s an obvious pivotal moment in your story. It was famously used by George Lucas as the structure for Star Wars.

~ ~ ~ 

 

‘But, but, but …’ I hear you cry, ‘a novelist can adapt their storyline to make it fit a structure. My story is my story. I can’t change it!’ That’s true, and as we’ve already said, there’s nothing wrong with a simple telling of the events of your life in chronological order. 

Depending on the answer to the question ‘who are you writing for?’ (see Part One of this guide), there’s no need to follow a structure slavishly. But structuring your story gives it shape and direction, and helps you say what you want to say - your message or takeaway.

If you’re you’re considering self-publishing your story, a strong structure is essential to grab your readers’ attention and keep it, to the last page. If you’re writing for yourself or your family, then you have more flexibility. But even a very light beginning, middle and end structure will help you get more out of the process, make your story easier to write and a more enjoyable read.

~ ~ ~

Amanda Edgar’s Memoir Method

As indicated by the title, this approach is designed specifically for those writing a memoir rather than an autobiography. (Reminder: a memoir focuses on a particular period or aspect of your life, as opposed to an autobiography which starts at the beginning and tells your whole life story.)

Edgar’s method has three stages:

• Bracket 

• Segment

• Outline

In Stage One, Bracket, you decide:

•     Your core topic - what is your memoir really about? (apart from you!)

•     When did this journey begin, and

•     When did this journey end?

 

In Stage Two, Segment, you work out:

• What’s my core message?

• When did I fail? [author's note: this may sound strange, but if you got beyond failing, and continued on - say you found a way to come to terms with long term serious illness - acknowledging the initial failure makes your success even more powerful - the idea of the darkest moment before the dawn]

 

In Stage Three, Outline, the key questions are: 

• What are the moments that move the topic (from Stage One) forward?

• What are the moments that support the message (from Stage Two)?

These moments will form the Outline of your memoir. Once you have this outline, the task of actually writing it will become much easier.

You can watch Amanda talking about the method in more detail here. You’ll notice that she also talks about ‘plotting your memoir like a novel’!

In conclusion

Structure gives shape and form to your story and helps support your theme, message or takeaway.

There’s nothing wrong with a simple collection of anecdotes in chronological order if that suits your purpose. But there’s no doubt that even a light structure will give your story direction and make it a more compelling read.

You can go for a simple beginning, middle and end approach, a Three Act Structure, Amanda Edgar’s Memoir Method, or utilise one of the more complex forms used by fiction writers. Any of them will lift your writing from a simple record of the events of your life to a powerful story.

I’m a firm believer that, particularly as we approach later life, most of us, if we’ve reflected at all on our lives, have something to say about life in general. If you want your story to interest others, it’s certainly worth making the effort.

So get out that paper and pen - or your laptop - and get started!

How to structure your life story -

Part one of a guide to structuring your story to give it direction and purpose

In this post I use the term ‘story’ to mean your life story. This may take the form of an autobiography - a chronicle of the events of your life, usually in chronological order, or a memoir - a book about a particular aspect or period of your life.

What do we mean by story structure?

Structure, in fiction, or life story writing, is the way the different elements of your story are organised: the order in which they come, and what gets grouped together. Things like the individual events and incidents; descriptions of people and places; conversations you had and your reflections about them.
 

Structure is created when, instead of just saying ‘This happened, and next that happened, etc, etc’, your story is organised with a clear sense of it ‘going somewhere’. That the protagonist–you!–has a purpose, for example, a journey of self-discovery, or triumph over adversity. That, over the course of your story, something will change; wanting to know what that change will be makes the reader keep reading.

Why does my story need structure?

As a ghostwriter, I like to use the term ‘life story’ instead of ‘autobiography’ or ‘memoir’, since both are also forms of storytelling. Aside from the fact that your story is based on real life, they’re no different to a fictional story. The best autobiographies and memoirs are as good a read as a novel–they grab the reader’s attention and make them care about what happens to the central character. They make them want to know what happened next, and how the story ends. Writers do this in a number of ways (use of dialogue and vivid descriptions among others) and by structuring their stories effectively.

At the simplest level, story structure avoids the ‘and then, and then’ syndrome. If you started writing your story one anecdote at a time (see my previous post), even if you’ve written some connecting pieces, and don’t go on to give it structure, there’s a risk that it will become dry and dull.

If you did use the one anecdote at a time approach, after writing several anecdotes you may have noticed a theme emerging–for instance, a particular interest you pursued, how you coped with loss or failure, or the kinds of people that influenced you. Creating a structure to your story will help you focus on those aspeccts and make it a much more compelling read.

Let’s be clear, there’s no rule that dictates you must do anything more than record the events of your life in chronological order if this suits your purpose. If all you want is to create a record of the events of your life for family history purposes, for example, then this simple structure may be quite adequate, but giving your story a shape will give it more momentum, and pull the reader along through the narrative.

Knowing your purpose

The issue of how you structure your story is intimately linked to your purpose in writing it. Which brings us to two important questions: 

      1. Who are you writing your story for?

          and

      2. Why are you writing it?

 
The answers to these questions, and their implications for structure, are inevitably intertwined, so answering the first often answers the second too. There are three possible answers to this first question: yourself, your family, a wider public:

 

1. Writing for yourself

Many people write their life story with no intention of sharing it with anyone. Perhaps it’s part of a process of reflecting on your life at a time of change or stability, when you’re reflecting on your journey to this point. Or maybe it’s a way of processing difficult or confusing experiences–and by the way, research shows that writing about our experiences can have powerful therapeutic benefits. Structuring your writing will undoubtedly help in this process, bringing out themes and patterns.

 

2. Writing for your family

As I mentioned above, if you’re writing your story as an exercise in preserving family history, a simple chronological structure might be perfectly adequate.

But perhaps you have a bigger purpose in telling your story for your family. Perhaps you want your children and grandchildren to understand your personal journey, how the events and influences of your life made you the person you are. Or maybe you want to set your story against the context of the time in which you grew up. It’s also likely that, by the time you’re undertaking this enterprise, you’ll have gained a fair bit of life experience and wisdom to pass on to future generations - how you dealt with the difficulties you encountered, what you’ve learnt about the world and people in general, for example.

These messages will all be easier to bring out with a structure that supports them as the focus of the story.

3. Writing for a wider audience

Many people who write their life story will come into one of the first two categories. But another group of life story writers are those who would like to get their story out to a wider public. Perhaps because they’ve had an unusual life, or have overcome difficulties and want to help others facing similar troubles by sharing their story. Or as a piece of social history, to throw light on a particular period in history through a personal story or to highlight a wrong or a political issue.


Be aware that this is a crowded market; there are many people out there self-publishing their life stories, and many of these sell very few copies. This particularly applies to autobiography. But you don’t know until you try, and if this is your goal, you most definitely need to create a story structure that engages readers’ attention and leaves them feeling changed by the end of your book.



In my next post I’ll be looking at some simple story structures you can use for your life story, so look out for it soon!

Write your life story – one anecdote at a time

 

Pen in hand, you stare at the blank piece of paper on your desk - or more likely, a blank computer screen. Today is the day you’re finally beginning work on your life story.

But how to start? Where? From the beginning and keep going to the end? It’ll take forever! What to leave out and what to include? Should you have a theme? If so, what?

Questions, questions, but no answers.

You decide to take a break; maybe a cup of tea will help the creative juices flow. Twenty minutes later, you’re back at your desk. ‘Oh well’, you think. ‘Here goes.’ . . .

‘I was born in 1961 in Birmingham. My parents were Nancy and Joe Millington. My first school was Hollyside Primary …’

‘This is so boring!’ you shout. ‘No-one’s going to read this! I give up.’

~ ~ ~

Writing your life story can be a daunting task; by the time you’re even thinking about it, you’re likely to have been on this earth for at least a few tens of years. That’s a lot of living, and sorting out the dross of the commonplace from the gems of insight isn’t easy.

So how about this?

Start with one anecdote.

Choose a moment in your life that was a turning point, when something significant changed for you: the day you met the friend who would be alongside you during the most difficult period of your life; the incident that made you realise you had a previously unsuspected strength. Sketch out what happened. A few sentences or a few pages, it doesn’t matter. You’ve started - with something you know is going to be important to your story.

What next?

Perhaps that event led to another; if so, what comes next is obvious. If not, simply repeat the process - don’t worry for now if there’s no connection between this anecdote and the first one.

Then keep going. Writing your story, one anecdote at a time.

As you work through your stories, you might see a theme beginning to emerge, and that will influence your choice of subsequent stories. Either way, you’ll soon have enough to write some connecting pieces. Hey presto! You're telling your story.

Later on in the process you’ll most likely start to wonder whether your story needs more of a structure; I’ll be writing more about this and how to make your story come to life on the page in subsequent posts. For now, the important thing is that you’re getting your story down on paper; but it’s helpful to make notes as you go along, either in a notebook or a document on your PC - things like:

• who were the significant people in your life?

• information about the locations of your anecdotes that might give context to your story

• ideas for themes and events that were perhaps less significant, but led up to, or were consequences of the events you’re describing.

As well as creating a record of your life for your family, research has shown that writing your story – including the more painful events - can be hugely therapeutic and rewarding.

So what are you waiting for? Time to get out that pen and paper!

References

Gregory Ciotti, The Psychological Benefits of Writing, Help Scout (blog), March 6, 2023, https://www.helpscout.com/blog/benefits-of-writing/

King, L. A. (2001). The Health Benefits of Writing about Life Goals. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 27(7), 798-807. https://doi.org/10.1177/0146167201277003

Pennebaker, J. W. (1997). Writing about emotional experiences as a therapeutic process. Psychological Science, 8, 162-166.

Ullrich, P.A. & Lutgendorf, S.L. Journaling about stressful events: Effects of cognitive processing and emotional expression. (2002). Annals of Behavioral Medicine, 24, 244-250.