I have to go back to the “lived experience” concept and writing about things that are real, thing that happened and that you actually experienced. “Relatable” is the key and it is also why I don’t believe that AI is just going to take over and replace everything and everyone.
If people read a memoir and buy into it, really become invested in the stories the author shares, very little can truly compare to that. Particularly if the author allows himself to be vulnerable and not just share the moments of success and glory. That’s just a series of social media posts by a fitness expert who’s life seems basically perfect. Sure, people like that to some degree, but I think empathetic, honest writing hits much deeper. Like the minor chords of a song with their melancholy, soulful pleas that hit you in the gut and in the heart.
What makes a memoir about personal reinvention work
I do enjoy rooting for somebody who is really working on themselves, really trying to figure out how their life might make more sense and how they fit into the larger scheme of things; how they would like to better harmonize with their surroundings and find peace. A memoir for me is much more interesting than fiction, provided I connect with the author/protagonist. I love a good novel and I believe that the art of writing fiction is something valuable that should be appreciated. But an autobiography is a bit more about connecting with a person or people you don’t even know and caring about the outcome. I think there is so much value in people caring about other people whom they don’t know and who have nothing personally to offer them. That pure, altruistic rooting for a person out of nothing but a general sense of humanity.
Why readers trust lived mess more than polished advice
I have so many stories about fucking up. So much of my life has been figuring shit out on the fly and applying barely tested theories and just hoping for anything remotely resembling a “Eureka! moment”. The number of times I have questioned just how it is that I have even survived as long as I have, much less flourished in some ways, given all of the stupid things I have done. I love to read about someone else who has been through it, too, so I don’t feel alone in my idiocy. If I read an account in the first person from a writer who is going on about how she screwed up and the stupid shit she did to get herself in some predicament and she seems like a reasonably smart person, I figure maybe I am not as big of an idiot as I first thought.
I don’t know that every memoir out there is inspirational in nature, but I reckon most good ones are, at least in part. If you are going to read a person’s memoir and actually finish it, you must have been invested at least in some way. Why else would you spend your time reading their account of life, the universe and the time they jump-started an earth mover with a flat head screwdriver? We are flooded with the dreck, the easy stuff, the fake stuff, the porn, pomp and circumstance. Not just the traditional pornography, but SO many new categories of porn that addict us and make us crave what we don’t have. A good book with some relatable stories that are actually true is really just what many of us need.
The emotional core of personal reinvention memoirs
We all start out without any idea how to do absolutely anything. We have to be taught how to walk, eat with a utensil, ride a bike, read, do simple math… With luck, we grow up in a home with parents who are kind and invested in our success in all of these things and more and who love us and protect us. At some point, though, we begin to strive for independence and autonomy, trusting our own instincts and thoughts and challenging our parents and peers.
We become more or less capable of surviving on our own during our formative years, but what’s next? We can pay the rent and grocery bill and keep the lights and the heat on, but what else are we capable of? What is it that we want in order to move past survival alone and what do we need in order to thrive and to be happy? What’s the goal, anyway? To wake up grinning each morning, appreciative of being allowed to spend another day on this planet?
That’s more or less my goal, though it may be a lofty one. If I really think about it, I absolutely SHOULD be waking up that way every day, given how fortunate I am and the amazing things I am able to do. In order to realize that goal, I work on myself and try to figure out how any of us can have the nerve not to fully appreciate all that we have. Questioning and learning and taking risks and travelling and sharing with friends tends to nudge me in the right direction and at a decent pace.
Why this genre matters right now
Truth seems to be in rare supply today. It doesn’t seem like anyone is really interested in telling the truth, but we all still tend to seek it out. It’s like water; it doesn’t taste as good as beer, wine or soda but it’s the only real way to quench your thirst.
Inventing situations and stories is fun and I enjoy it just as much as the next person, but it doesn’t compare to sitting down and writing something true. I suppose catharsis is a part of it, but it’s more than that. It’s ironically impossible to define; I love that I can’t write a few sentences to eloquently explain how it feels to write about my past, to share my story… Is that irony?
A memoir about personal reinvention should leave a bruise and a spark
Entertainment that is spiritually nutritious. That is how I would succinctly define a good memoir that is about reinvention or personal growth. It’s like having a really delicious dinner that is also healthy, rather than binging on McDonald’s and mass produced pastries.
A good book provides the flavor and the substance and leaves you feeling sated in a number of ways, hopefully inspiring you to use some of the ideas it sparked in you as fuel to pursue a project or seek out your own adventure and stories. It’s certainly a much more likely outcome when that book is a good memoir.
