By a literary editor who has spent her career reading life stories, and realizing most of them are about someone else.
You may think you’re writing your story.
But at some point, usually earlier than expected, it becomes clear you’re also writing theirs.
The mother who loved you in quiet, tired ways. The grandfather who built things with his hands and never said much, but always knew what mattered. The friend who showed up once when no one else did, and never asked for credit.
We carry these people inside us. And when we sit down to tell our stories, they rise to the surface, sometimes uninvited, often unforgettable.
Because whether you’re writing a memoir, a letter, or just a page for yourself, the people who shaped you tend to make themselves known.
And thank goodness they do.
Memoir isn’t just about what happened to us. It’s about who helped us make sense of it. Who influenced how we see the world, or ourselves. Sometimes they were family. Sometimes not. Sometimes they were gone before we realized how much they mattered.
The first time I edited a piece about someone else’s father, it was barely about the father at all. It was about silence. About all the things he didn’t say, and the way his daughter kept trying to translate that silence into something solid.
By the end of her second draft, she wrote, “I thought this story was about me. But I see now it’s about trying to understand him.”
That is the beauty of writing about others. It deepens our understanding of our own story. Not always neatly. Not always kindly. But truthfully.
And sometimes, it’s not about understanding them at all. It’s about finally giving voice to what they never could.
So many people we love never had the chance to tell their story. They were too busy surviving. Or too private. Or too overwhelmed by the idea of sitting still and remembering. And now they’re gone.
But their stories don’t have to be.
Writing about the people who shaped you is a way of keeping them alive. Not in a nostalgic way but in a real and rooted way. It lets us hold up their memory to the light and say, “This person mattered. And here’s why.”
Even when the relationship was complicated. Even when the ending wasn’t tidy. Even when you’re still figuring it out.
Memoir is big enough to hold all of that.
And you don’t need permission to write it.
Writing Prompt:
Think of someone who shaped your life deeply—whether through love, pain, or quiet influence. Write a letter to them, or about them. What would you say now that you couldn’t say then?
We help people capture personal journeys and legacies through voice-led storytelling and AI-assisted memoir writing.
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