​Have you noticed that everything comes back into style again?  Those platform shoes you sworn no one would ever want to wear made a comeback.  So did polo shirts, motorcycle jackets, and cropped jeans.  Not only do clothes make a comeback, but activities do too.  Hula hooping becomes exciting again every few years.  Cruising is being embraced as a way to bring communities together, when it used to be outlawed as a public nuisance.  If you have not noticed, knitting, wool spinning, gardening, making model planes, and keeping chickens are all back in style.  
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​When people think about what parts of their lives to write about, sometimes they think there is nothing exciting enough to captivate a reader.  Sure, maybe you can write about a few good vacations, offer some advice about saving money, and make a suggestion to find true love, but do people really want to read about your life?  To some people, it seems like the popular memoirs are about people who had miserable lives and experienced pain and loss.  What about the everyday life well lived? 
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​Your potential memoir readers are all around you.  Your niece who just finished college is desperate for good advice on how to start her career.  Your son who just had a third baby is uncertain how to keep his marriage strong while managing the complexities of parenting.  The people at your local knitting/motorcycling/kayaking/volunteering club want to more about your interesting past. 
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The people around you are all potential readers for your memoir, and they want to know about you.  You may not realize it, but people are interested in your thoughts, opinions, experiences, and observations.  The unique experiences that make you a fascinating individual are what people want to read.  The essence of the memoir genre is connection between the reader and writer; the reader wants to know more about the writer as a person. 

​The answer to this question is really another question—how do you spend your time?  We tend to spend our time engaged in the activities that interest and fulfill us the most.  The moments when we get lost in a project and hours go whizzing by are the ones to write about first. 
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Do you tinker on your car and find that an afternoon has flown by?  Does the thought of developing your own software program send you down a rabbit hole where no one will hear from you for days?  How about gardening?  Do you find that you skipped lunch and dinner while working in the garden?  Or is constructing an intriguing sonnet the activity that pulls you in for hours?  

Whatever your activities of choice are, write about them.  This is one of the best places for a writer to begin the memoir-writing process—write about what you love, what pulls you in, and what captivates your attention.  Any passion that engrosses you will inevitably engage your reader as well.  Write what you know, and write what you love to do. 

The way you choose to spend your time, whether it is traveling, woodworking, or ice skating, is a great starting topic for your memoir.  What you have been doing for years or even decades can become fascinating reading for your audience.  

​Be careful about looking at your life as old-fashioned, dull, or uneventful.  Keep in mind that what is old is new again, because young people are always looking backwards for good advice before they move forward.  So, the years you spent knitting blankets for babies in need will make for an incredible memoir piece.  Your audience wants to know what made you want to knit in the first place, how you learned the process, what tools you prefer to use, and what suggestions you have for new knitters, as well as why you engaged with knitting and continued doing it for years, and what goals you accomplished by knitting.  
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​Start writing about your activities by answering questions about them.  What about this activity was interesting to you before you started?  How did you get started?  Did you have any goals or intentions when you began?  Did you have dreams of turning your activity into a career? 
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Once you started into your activity, what kept you going?  Were there experts in the field who inspired you to excel?  What successes did you have along the way?  What about the activity appeals most to you?  Why do you spend time at this activity?  What does it give you in return for the time you spend on it? 

Have you mentored any novices in this activity?  If so, did you find that teaching it was as rewarding as doing the activity itself?  Have you shared your knowledge in a book, lecture, or workshop with others?  What are your current goals with this activity and what are you learning about it now? 

Writing about ourselves can feel a little awkward at first.  You may sometimes feel like your activities might not be interesting or may even be old fashioned, and because of that, they may turn off a reader.  But keep in mind that everything old is new again, and everything that used to be popular comes back into style.  Young people and readers genuinely are interested in what you are doing, because the central idea of memoir is that it is about making the connection between reader and writer.  Memoir is about understanding a person—the writer.  Readers want to understand what you are all about—whether those readers are your close family and friends or whether they are a million reader audience of people you have never met. 

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Many writers have a memoir sitting in the back of their heads; they leave their personal stories packed neatly in the boxes of their minds to be unpacked someday.  The drive to pass on our knowledge is a strong one that many people identify with, especially as they age. 
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For people who write occasionally, or who do not consider themselves to be writers at all, there is a keen interest in collecting personal stories to share with future generations.  Everyday people—farmers, accountants, and furniture salespeople—all have stories to tell.  Where were they born?  How well did they get along with people?  What inspired them?  What were their hobbies?  What did they value? 

We all have a story to tell—practiced writers and non-writers alike.  Our stories are what make us who we are, because they help us to define our experiences through the lenses we use to process our adventures.  Everyone has stories to share, and now is the time to start writing your memoir.  

​Writing your personal stories helps to make sense of events from the past.  With time and maturity, the process of looking back at the past can be easier for many people.  Writing about your life events can support a more accurate sense of when different things happened, who was involved, and what the outcomes were.  By writing about your past, you develop context for it, explanations for what happened, and recognize outcomes that you could not see at the time.  
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​Oftentimes, when a person begins jotting down the details of a life well lived, some of the bits and pieces seem to have fallen out of view.  The process of collecting information about the past—brainstorming, taking notes, writing down memories, and composing whole stories—they work together in a way that improves your memory.  After working with the writing process, even if all you do is jot down notes of what you remember in the moment, new details emerge.  A person’s memory improves by practicing remembering.  The sights, sounds, shapes, and textures in events become clearer.  The events from your past can become clearer and you can remember more just by writing.  
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When you were young, did people make fun of your name, kick sand in your eye, or play jokes on you?  Most people experienced some kind of sophomoric behavior from their peers, and in many cases it takes a bite out of one’s self esteem.  No one likes being belittled, but luckily, people grow up and most of them learn how to behave.  Happily, most memoirists find that when they write about the sad events from the past, the pain dissipates and their confidence increases.  Writing about the past allows writers to know that past events happened but the marks they left were temporary.  Today is a new day that can be lived with full confidence.  
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​When we write about the past, we can process the details of earlier events and judge those involved from a distance that allows us to be less emotional.  We can make peace with our pasts by writing about those times.  Research dating back to the 1980s consistently demonstrates that writing about one’s past events, including the challenging times, encourages writers to dig deep into the closets overflowing with skeletons and write every word.  We can rewrite events to include sections on: what I wish I had said, if I had the chance to do it all over again, and the three changes I would have made.  This allows us to take charge of the incidents of our lives and rework them in a way that we can make peace with them.  
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​If I could relive any events from my life, it would be the birth of my children.  Those days were the most emotionally overwhelming, physically exhausting, and exhilarating episodes of my life.  I could write and rewrite and write again the details of the pain and anguish and joy and love from those awe-inspiring moments.  We all have days that would be heavenly to be trapped within.  If you could just relive your best days on Earth.  Writing lets you do that.  It lets you relive the past, it lets you reconnect with the red letter days, and it lets you capture the mindset, the vision, and the memories of the most beautiful days of your life.   
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​What do reader want to read?  What readers want is to connect to other people through the magic of story.  They want to get to know the writer, the want to know what happened, and they want to uncover the truth.  When a reader chooses to pick up a memoir, they are seeking out the answer to who the person is.  Readers want to read deep, personal narratives.  They want to know about your life. 
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​People who grow up with a clear understanding of their family tend to be more certain of who they are.  They know where they come from and seem to have an easier time figuring out where they are going.  When grandparents, aunts and uncles, and family friends take the time to collect their personal stories, they are helping young people to establish an understanding of who they are in the world.  Personal stories build confidence for the writer and the reader.  
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​People sometimes think that memoirs are only interesting if they are about extraordinary events like climbing mountains or great discoveries.  Not true.  Not only have historians used the journals, letters, and personal stories of everyday people to establish what happened during historical events, but so do other people.  Gardeners learn different techniques by reading the journals of the last generation’s green thumbs.  Fashion designers read the notes from last century’s seamstresses to understand intricate stitching.  And grandchildren recognize where their love of antique book collecting or bird watching came from by reading the personal stories of their ancestors. 
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​Young people spend a significant amount of time figuring out who they are as individuals.  They wonder if they are like their parents or their grandparents.  They are curious where their dominant traits and viewpoints came from and whose lives they can emulate to be happy.  Young people are on the hunt for themselves and are desperate to find deep personal connections within their friends and family. 

When an adult takes the time to share personal stories, they create a pathway for young people to follow as they search for themselves.  Memoir narratives help young people seek out connect, understand their value, and decide who they are and who they want to do.  The young people in your life: children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and family friends need your stories to feel whole. 
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​Yes, memoir writing can be therapeutic.  Yes, memoir writing can be personally fulfilling.  Yes, memoir writing can help improve memory, can resolve old grudges, can increase confidence and self-esteem, and can help readers connect with the memoirist.  Memoir writing is a multi-layered genre that supports our personal and creative development on so many levels.  And at the end of the day, it is just good fun.  People who collect personal stories and write their memoirs reflect positively on how much they enjoy the process and how much they gained from it.  Not only is it good for you, it is awfully fun.  

​A few years ago, I stopped sharing stories with some of my family members.  Although they were well-intentioned, a couple of people in my life insist on critiquing my memory of stories from childhood.  Instead of listening to the story and appreciating what I remember of it, they instead dedicate their energy to listing off the 547 reasons that my memory stinks because I remember my step-dad’s truck as white instead of red.

After being interrupted and criticized on several occasions, I gave up trying.  Why would anyone want to share their memories with people who lack interest and curiosity?  No writer wants to sit in that corner.  Writing memoir pieces, whether they are individual pieces or collective pieces, is deeply challenging work for any writer.  The reflective aspect of memoir writing requires an inner strength to be able to identify memories worth preserving, self-evaluate events for their value, and compose those events into a logical format that others can relate to. 

Yet, any memoirist faces the criticism from multiple directions.  Many writers, in any genre, tend to hold out considerations on how their work will be received while holding up a protective barrier around their work from the world’s exterior criticism.  The balance is a challenge.  
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​To be able to write memoir, some writers need a bit of distance from the other people involved to be able to capture their authentic memories from their own viewpoint.  Getting enough mental space can be the first step; accepting that not everyone will agree with one version of the truth is another. 

What memoirists need is a code of affirmation to lean upon during those days when Aunt Maisie lists the 42 ways you got your facts mixed up, because obviously, her memory is much superior to everyone else’s recollections.

Memoirists need a bill of rights—a list of certain truths that support the intense work that memoir writing requires; memoirists need a solid, certain guarantee that no matter how many nails are bitten away during the hours spent dedicating personal recollections to paper, that the story will hold true.  We need a bill of rights, because writing about our lives is gut-wrenching work that musters bravery by the bucketful.  
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​Look at today’s memoirs.  What would have happened if the man, abused as a child, decided that his years of torture at his parents’ hands had no merit in the literary world so never bothered to write it?  What if the Civil Rights leaders from the 60s left their memories in the dust and left the rest of us to guess how they felt standing against an impossibly-powerful opponent?  What if the women of math and science chose to leave the past behind by pretending they were secretaries and not experts?  Every person has amazingly interesting stories to share.  No matter if a life was spent on the battlefield, in the wheat fields, or having a field day, our stories matter. 
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​The first thought that many memoirists grapple with is—what will happen when people read my story?  People’s past emotions of shame, guilt, and blame burst to the surface.  Sometimes writers worry how readers will react to a story or how a story may be taken by an unbiased public.  As writers, we tend to worry more than necessary, because readers overwhelmingly applaud the bravery it takes to document one’s personal stories.  
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Readers choose to read a memoir, whether a short narrative from a family member or a book-length piece, because they want to delve into the life of someone else.  By touching the lives of other people—farmers, politicians, and refugees, we learn more about the human experience.  Readers want to read the story of you—the story of hitchhiking in the rain, the story of wrecking a motorcycle in the mountains, and the story of walking away from endless days of punching the clock. 
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​Just because your sister, father, the next-door neighbor, or some schmoe from down the street remembers a story differently means nothing.  Your story is your story.  Your memory is under no obligation to match anyone else’s recollections of events.   
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​Sometimes a writer may assume that their personal stories aren’t interesting to other people and that people only want to read about the rich and famous.  Not true at all.  Readers crave connection and desire getting in touch with the depth and breadth of humanity by seeking out unique stories.  The tales of a farmer overcoming all odds in the age of industrial farming is a story with promise.  It contains the possibility for struggle, dedication, family love, and connection to the earth.  A memoir is more than a string of events, and therein lies its power; it is about the genuine experiences of people.  
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​Writing serves many purposes.  It is a pathway to pulling out the skeletons in the closet and sending them to live elsewhere; writing is a pathway to healing.  Writing helps writers organize their thoughts.  It helps writers make sense of the world, of the people around them, and of their lives.  Writing allows writers to play with ideas and wrestle with the challenges we all face—emotionally, physically, and mentally.  When we write memoir, we gain perspective on our own experiences.  We learn and grow from the experience of writing memoir. 
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​Your stories are valid and valuable.

People want to read your personal stories.

Be yourself.  People want to read about you.

Your memories do not need to match anyone else’s memories.

If a story is important to you, it will be worthy to your readers.

The writing of a memoir should benefit the writer as much the reader.

Good writing comes on its own schedule, so write when your stories are ready to be recorded.
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Some people feel uncomfortable writing about themselves.  The idea seems a bit egotistical that one person has a story so valuable that it needs to be captured, and the idea of sharing that story may feel even more uncomfortable.  Humans are judgmental creatures so many of us shy away from sharing the personal elements of our lives too freely. 
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It may feel that way for some people, but readers want that personal connection that comes from a personal story.  The personal story is where genuine, deeply-valuable writing can germinate.  Don’t believe it?  Imagine this.  What is you had a copy of your grandfather’s story of meeting your grandmother?  What if you had a copy of your great-aunt’s story of immigrating to escape hardship in her home country?  What is you had a copy of your cousin’s story of battling cancer before he succumbed?

You probably get the point.  Our personal stories do not have to be perfect, they do not have to be publishing-worthy, and they do not have to be prize-winning to be the most valuable stories in our lives.  If I had a copy of my grandfather’s story, no matter how many spelling errors it contained, it would be one of my most prized possessions.  Just the thought of having something he wrote that was deeply impacting for him would heighten its value; that is the effect a personal story should have.

Yes, when we write about ourselves, we may feel self-conscious, but the outcome product of a personal story and the powerful effect that story can have on our intended audience can have a considerable effect.  The potential of the personal story lies in its pathway to connect reader and writer together by revealing intimate details about the writer in a manner that elucidates the writer’s quality as a person. 

As with many pieces of writing, getting started can be the hardest part.  Brainstorming what to write about, the details to include, and the tone to employ tend to come freely, but that first line can allude the most competent writers.  

Rhetorical question

The rhetorical question can be one way to start a personal story.  The question without an answer tends to attract and involve readers from the first line, because it encourages the reader to engage a curious mindset by asking questions.  Consider these examples to see if this style may work for your piece.  

Why would my beloved brother Ethan push me off a cliff like that?  

What do slugs, snails, and puppy dog tails all have in common? 

Why would Disney encourage princess dresses when astronaut suits were much more comfortable? 

Beginning a personal story with a rhetorical question grabs your reader’s attention from the beginning of the story and puts them into the correct mindset for reading.  

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Surprising Statement

Beginning a story with a surprising statement can be a great way to capture the reader’s attention from the beginning.  It allows the writer to begin the story with a particular tone or viewpoint; humor and irony work well here.

89 million dogs in America and I ended up with the craziest of them all.

If you understand what 40% unemployment looks like, then you appreciate why I worked so hard to leave the city.

Nothing could interest her not the two-headed steer, the world’s largest ball of twine, or even the toilet seat art museum.  Who wouldn’t want to see that? 

When you begin a story with a surprising statement, you can employ data or statistics to make a point or engage a tone to support your story from the beginning. That serves multiple purposes: you capture your reader’s attention, make a statement, and establish tone within a single sentence. 

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6-Word Memoir

The 6-word memoir is a popular tool these days, because it forces writers to distill their message down to its essence.  Ernst Hemingway’s famous 6-word memoir says it all: Baby shoes for sale. Never worn.  Those six words show the reader who Hemingway was, what his attitude on life was, what he valued, and how he viewed himself.  The 6-word memoir can do the same thing for your personal story by giving you a tool to start the story with a bang that grabs your reader from the first line. 

Stopped drinking.  Found life so boring.

Garden all day. Knit all night.

Pushed the limits to reach greatness

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​In a personal story, it is OK to come right out and say what you mean.  Make your point.  Your reader is engaging in your story because they want to make a personal connection with you, they want to see your personality revealed, and they want to learn about life through the lens that you view it.  If you have a point to make: a life observation, an interesting anecdote, or a revelation of a unique personality trait then make your point directly.  Avoid masking your point behind figurative language for your reader to dig out of the story.  A personal story can be highly engaging if the purpose is put on display.  
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​One of the most wonderful aspects of the personal story is that it benefits both the reader and the writer.  The writer uses a reflective form of writing that has therapeutic value to communicate details about one’s life experience.  Research has demonstrated that writing about one’s life has therapeutic value for writers regardless of writing skill.  The reader benefits by making a personal connection to the writer, changing viewpoints by looking through another set of eyes, and expanding a sense of the human experience.  When we write and when we read personal stories, we all grow

Is a Jane Austen novel your cup of tea?  How about an Agatha Christie mystery with a fair number of twists and turns?  Perhaps an Ernst Hemingway short story gets you up in the morning?  What type of story is it that allows you to connect with the storytelling and reading processes? 

As we move through life, thoughts of the literary giants may tug at our heart strings, but at the end of the day, we most love the stories from people closest in our lives.  People rarely walk around telling stories of the literary greats; rather they tell stories of themselves and the people close to them. 

The kind of stories that we hold onto and repeat over and over include tales like: the story of how your parents met, the tale of how you fell into your career, the narrative of how you traveled the world with just your backpack, the stories of your children when they were young, and your thoughts on how you overcame the challenges life threw at you.  These are the kinds of stories that stick with us. 
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When you think about a beloved friend or family member, often the stories are what stand out.  Storytelling is a natural part of how human beings interact with each other, teach their young, and instill a sense of belonging and connection between family and friends.  We tell stories to explain ourselves, create affinity, and build groups, and we absorb stories for the same reasons.  We want to feel connected with those around us. 
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The greatest stories in people’s lives are usually the stories of a grandparent’s journey to a new country, a parent’s struggles through personal challenges, and a friend’s determination to collect rare objects.  Our stories build us up, connect us, and create us.  

On July 4, 2012, my step-dad passed after a year-long battle with liver disease.  A year later, I lost my childhood best friend to the same disease.  Losing the two of them within such a short time period sent me reeling emotionally.  My first and most lasting emotion was regret; I felt like I did not take enough time to communicate with them before they passed, even though I had seen my dad the day prior.

As I processed their losses, I was reminded of events that we shared together.  These memories ran through my mind like a film reel playing nonstop. 

I remembered that my dad watched golf and fishing shows on television.  Typically dads watched football or hockey or soccer, but mine watched golf and fishing, and in fact the television was on all the time regardless if anyone was watching it or not.  He woke up at 3am every morning and sat on the front porch drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes; I am pretty sure that my parent’s coffeepot was never turned off.  He loved our pets more than anything in the world.  My sister had a coffee cup made with a photo of him and the four cats sitting on the couch with the title Cat-Man-Do.  

The stories of my friend similarly ran through my head.  Our first concert was the Psychedelic Furs at Red Rocks in eighth grade.  The next year, we saw Duran Duran open for David Bowie at Mile High Stadium.  For that one, we waited all night for tickets in front of the ticket-selling office; it paid off because we got tickets in row 10.  Her mom dropped off sleeping bags for us to sleep on the concrete bench in front of the shop.  My love of music came from her.  She taught me how to apply mascara, how to combine colors in my outfits, and how to relieve stress through writing. 
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A year after my dad passed, I visited my aunt who told me stories of growing up with him in northern Indiana.  They took a sailboat called The Sunflower onto Lake Michigan as teenagers.  He got his head stuck in a wooden dining chair and the chair had to be hacked to bits by his blind grandmother to free him.  His mother went into labor with him and took a taxi to the hospital; he was very nearly born in the taxi. 

As I heard these stories, I clung to them.  I cherished them.  I started collecting them and holding onto them.  The stories became my lifeline to stay connected with my loved ones.  Even though they may be gone, I could hold their stories in my hands and read them over and over.  So, I began collecting their stories, and over time that process proved to be therapeutic in my grief process.  Yes, they were still gone, but I had a little piece of them to hold onto—our stories.  

There is a positive therapeutic value to storytelling.  When people share stories, they reach out across the void to keep that story alive.  Every culture has a tradition of storytelling, of passing stories from one generation to the next—whether that be oral stories shared through family members or historical tales shared in textbooks, people seek to keep their stories alive. 
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In the process of storytelling, we unburden our minds of the realities of life and organize them in a way that we can make sense of and present to others.  This process gives writers an opportunity to process the events which may have been confusing or full of conflict previously.  When we write, we preserve that which is most important—the memories that make us individuals. 

Though the narratives of the literary greats enlighten and inspire us, the stories from those closest to us are the ones that we hold closest to ourselves.  Those are the stories that we cling tom because those are the stories that speak to us.  They tell us who we are, how we connect, what we value, and how we make a difference in the world.  The greatest story ever told is your own story. 
 

Sometimes I wonder what happens in a writer’s planning that makes it so easy to fall off track.  No matter what our writing goals are, so many of us fall apart at some point down the path.  Essayists get stuck in brainstorming, novelists are overwhelmed with character development, and memoirists lose their mojo half way through a story.

One nasty setback can derail a writing project by weeks or more.  But, every element of life comes with the risk of failing: our professions grind us down, our kids forget to eat their veggies, and our waistlines expand with each slice of pizza.  So, why do we push through the everyday challenges of life but find it so much harder to stick to a writing routine?
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Having worked with writers as an instructor and coach for 20 years, I believe that a poor plan sloppily executed will sink any writer’s dreams.  OK, so if it takes a poor plan and sloppy application to ruin a writing practice, what exactly does that mean?  Take a look at a few of the ways that a writer, any writer, can derail their dreams. 

Avoid Reading

I genuinely cannot make sense of writers who do not read.  That is up there with chefs who do not eat, tailors who do not wear clothing, and skiers who do not like snow.  How does a writer not read and expect to be able to write?  I really do not understand.

Strangely this phenomena is fairly prevalent.  I meet writers who have something to say but are unwilling to read the messages shared by their contemporaries.  Due to the complications of modern life: pervasive technology, busy schedules, and lacking creative communities, some writers can hide under the idea that their messages are paramount in importance in the literary world.

There is no settled rule about what writers should read, but avoiding reading altogether is a certain step on the road to failure.  Failing to read separates a writer from the writing community.  Writers who fail to read fail to make an effort to connect with the greater community of writers, fail to observe what good writing looks like on the page, and fail to open themselves up to the growth process to be had from the writing process.  Writers who do not read will not write for long or successfully.  

Avoid Writers
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Books, films, and stereotypes have created a popular image of a writer as a tortured artist who types away in a grimy basement apartment into the dark hours.  We have bought into the idea that writers are socially anxious, awkward, and even anti-social creatures.  We tend to think of a writer as a lone wolf without a single friend to provide comfort and understanding. 

Nothing could be further from the truth.  Some writers take time away from the noise of life to attend a writer’s conference or to spend a couple of days working on a book project.  But overall, writers a highly social, caring creatures.  If writers did not care so much about the world, we would not write, because one of the reasons that we write is to make a difference. 

Writers who connect with other writers are not only better connected professionally, but they are better supported in their communities.  Writers who pound away in the dark room of loneliness are missing out on the opportunities of local workshops, writing mentorships, and courses that can help them develop their skills.  Writers who avoid other writers are missing out on one of the best methods of keeping the mojo flowing.  

Avoid Accountability

I’ll write when the feeling moves me. 

I’ll write when I get around to it. 

I’ll get to some writing later on. 

I don’t feel like writing today.  

Have these words ever escaped your lips by chance?  Regardless of what genre we choose, writing can be hard work, and for some people, when the work gets hard, they tend to avoid the task.  When we avoid that which is hard, we leave the paths that lead to our goals.  Writing a novel, a series of articles, or a letter to a friend can be incredibly hard work.  Writing is an activity that pulls from every energy source people have: the emotional, physical, mental, and philosophical.  It takes a lot of grit to write. 

Without accountability, would we show up to work on time, stop ourselves from eating a second slice of cake, or bother heading to the gym?  Perhaps not.  But we know that we could lose our jobs, gain a few pounds, or lose our health muscle mass if we do not follow through. 
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Writing is the same.  Writers need some kind of accountability.  Sure, there are some people out there who are doodling on napkins, jotting down stories during the commercials, and cranking out novels at breakneck speed, but most of us need at least a little nudge to stay on the path. 
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Create accountability by working with a writing partner and sharing with each other what you accomplish.  Join a local writing group, especially one that expects you to write in between meetings.  Attend writer’s workshops; these are available both in person and virtually.  Keep track of your daily word count and set goals around how much to write on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis.  

Avoid Taking Chances
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Ineffective writers stick close to their comfort zones.  They avoid trying new things, they push mentorship and challenge away, and they spend an amazing amount of time making excuses for not meeting their goals.  They do not take chances. 

A few years back, a friend of mine shared a novel idea.  I offered to be a writing partner so that we could encourage each other and gave her some ideas of how to use the writing process.  She then spent the next three years complaining about how I got her off track, and in those years, she made no progress on her novel.  

As writers, our craft makes life an ongoing challenge, because no matter what is happening in our lives, we still have the drive to put words to paper.  And considering that a novel can easily take a year or more to compose, sometimes we may feel like avoiding challenge may be the easier path. 
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Writers cannot know how well they write poetry if they do not take the chance to sign up for a poetry workshop.  They cannot consider their options with a memoir if they vehemently stick with short stories.  And they cannot improve their skill sets without considering working with a mentor or editor. 

We all get stuck in a rut now and then, and we are all challenged by the intricacies that the writing life has to offer.  But at the end of the day, we still want to write; the drive to write is what makes us writers.  So, if being a successful writer is of interest to you then, read, connect with other writers, hold yourself accountable, and take chances in your writing practice.  You do not know what you are made of until you push yourself.  

How many times have you set a writing goal but faltered along the way and given up?  For me, this has been a recurring theme in my writing career.  I start off strong then something happens, and before I know it, a week has gone by without any writing progress. 
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This scenario has played out every time that I have set a writing goal for myself, and perhaps it sounds familiar for you too.  Today, people’s lives are busier than ever, so it is not surprising that sticking to a goal is more complicated and challenging than ever. 

The way we read, study, write, work, parent, and interact today allows for more interruption, more distraction, and a lower sense of peaceful concentration than just a decade ago.  That sense of overwhelm and distraction can derail a project.

If you have read the writing guides by the greats like: Stephen King’s On Writing, Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing, or E.B. White’s Paris Review Interviews, then you know that many professionals recommend a daily writing practice—7 days a week 365 days a year.  When I first read On Writing, the thought of King’s writing schedule overwhelmed me. 

How is he able to write every single day?  Although I appreciate his dedication to the craft, I also have to recognize the differences in our lives.  I work 50ish hours a week at my job plus a commute; I have elementary-aged children to raise, a house to manage, and other creative pursuits (I crochet, and turn wood).  So, sure King is able to write 365 days a year, but in my life, there are too many tasks pushing their way into my schedule to allow for that. 

After reading several books and articles from the greats, and after failing at meeting my writing goals, I recognized that I needed to create my own path.  

I tend towards setting an enormous, usually impossible, goal at the beginning of the year (i.e., to write 5 books plus weekly blogging).  It never works out, but setting an impossible goal has been my habit for decades.  If I lived the life of a full-time writer, I probably could meet my goals, but I have other responsibilities.  Inevitably, a couple of weeks into my goal, I reevaluate the effectiveness of having a massive goal and start to revise.
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You know what is happening in your life, and your routine is unique to the obligations that you manage.  If you are a student, you have to juggle multiple courses and dozens of assignments simultaneously.  If you are a parent, you juggle children, a home, a job, and activities for everyone.  If you are retired, you have to consider your activities in a different way (some people take up parasailing in retirement and some watch their grandchildren 10 hours a day). 

In all likelihood, your life runs by the calendar.  Pull out the calendar you use (i.e., a pocket day timer, a wall calendar, a digital tool on your phone or internet).  Add all of your engagements onto the calendar: work, commuting, activities, date night, workouts, and as you add these items onto your calendar, organize them by time so that you can see visually.   

Your personal writing goal can be anything at all: to write an essay a week, to finish the great American novel by year’s end, or to collect 50 personal stories for your memoir.  Your writing goal should fit with your writing schedule.  Regardless of how much time you set aside, your goal can be accomplished; the only thing that changes is its completion date, but if the project is valuable to you, then you will persevere until the final draft is in hand. 
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The road to your goal will be littered with complications.   

In everyone’s lives, we deal with random problems, unanticipated setbacks, and inconvenient illnesses that threaten to derail our best laid plans.  Inevitably, as challenges creep into our lives, they test our resolve to continue with our goals.  Do we continue towards the goal after having a week-long flu?  Or do we feel defeated and give up? 

Taking on a viewpoint of flexibility can help in this area.  I have seen writers who create get-out-of-writing cards for themselves after setting their goals.  When a setback happens, they cash in their card and use it to buy a time out from their writing schedule.  For some, this can help create that flexible mindset they need to forgive themselves for unforeseen setbacks and move on. 

Another tool for managing setbacks is to acknowledge the quality work you have completed.  Some writers keep track of their word count on a daily or weekly basis.  By doing this, they can look back at their accomplishments and congratulate themselves when a setback happens.  This method tends to lessen the disappointment after a setback. 

Setbacks are opportunities to pick up the pieces and keep going.  They are chances to re-evaluate the goal and determine what parts of it are working and where change is needed. 

They encourage us to get better organized and plan more efficiently.  And they are a natural part of the process that we can use to our advantage to move forward on our projects. 
If you set a writing goal for yourself but have been unable to continue with that goal, get back in the game.  Reconnect with your goal by evaluating your schedule, the goal, and your mindset and persevere towards the end result of a completed project.  

Anyone who has ever gone on a diet, signed up for a gym membership without previous workout experience, or purchased a self-paced online course guaranteed to change one’s life knows how difficult it is to make a significant change in one’s life.

When we make changes, we rile up all of the demons who control our entrenched habits and behavioral norms.  Sure, I have followed a diet for a day or two, or maybe even a week, but like most everyone, my dieting experience has been spotty at best.  I fall into my old habits and therein the problem lies.

Writing, making art, or starting a creative venture is no different. 

When we choose to write, we choose to change ourselves for ourselves.  We decide to make ourselves a little bit better each day, we face the dark sides of our creative minds, and we take steps towards the true people we believe ourselves capable of becoming. 

And that is hard work. 

So, if it is difficult to change our habits and potentially invigorating but also challenging to start a writing practice, how does a person establish a personal writing practice? 

If you want to see the words on the page go from zero per day to hundreds per day, you have to put in the time.  Yes, that is stating the obvious, but the old adage that Writers Write is true.  A writer needs to set aside time that is dedicated solely to writing. 

OK, so that is clear, but how does one do that?  We are all overworked, exhausted, and stretched to our limits, but when we write, we relieve stress, we create, and we rejuvenate the maker inside of us who wants to play with words.  Time spent writing is not the same as time spent cleaning the bathroom or dragging the recycling to the curb.  Time spent writing is time spent peeling away the layers of smog, grime, and dust that life throws at us. 

To establish a successful personal writing practice, set aside time to write. 

This time might be divided by creative output or it may be divided by minutes.  For example, one writer may set aside enough time each day to write one paragraph, and once the paragraph is on the page that writer can choose to continue writing or move onto another activity.  Either way, a new paragraph is on the page that did not exist before.  Goal accomplished.

The other method is to set aside a period of time.  Many people find that setting aside 30 minutes either at the beginning of the day or the end of the day gets the writing done.  If you choose the morning, then wake up a half hour early to write.  The reason is that your morning routine is already established, so to make that early morning writing time productive, it needs to fit within the established norms of your morning.  If you try to force a 30 minute activity into your already-busy morning, it has no room to fit. 

Writing in the evening seems to work out well for almost everyone.  Writers do not necessarily need to stay up later in the evening to write, though you may need to forego watching TV or playing on the computer. 

Regardless if you choose to write a certain length of content or a certain amount of time, set aside time to write.  
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Do you need support getting your writing practice established?  This video includes easy-to-follow steps to go from a blank page to a completed story.  

https://youtu.be/3R9Nl9_Wkes

Accountability is absolutely vital to establishing a personal writing practice.  Without accountability, will sheer willpower keep you composing each day?  Unlikely. 
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If you ever tried to kick a bad habit—drinking too much caffeine or smoking cigarettes, for example—then you know how challenging it is to do something for yourself without accountability.  Many people say that they were unable to kick a bad habit or take on a good habit for themselves.  It was only when they had some form of accountability integrated into their plans that they became successful. 

So, if establishing a personal writing practice is about taking on a new, positive habit for oneself, how do we inspire motivation and success by adding accountability?  We can employ personal accountability or a partner accountability. 

Personal accountability might include taking steps like using a daily checklist to identify your daily writing goal and note when it has been completed.  Even in our technology-dependent age, I still make a hand-written to-do list each morning, number my tasks by which one I will complete first, and strikethrough when I complete each task.  The list makers and checklist enthusiasts of the world can apply those skills to accomplish their writing tasks.

Most everyone uses some kind of day-timer or calendar to keep track of events.  I have three Google calendars (one for work, one for family, and one for writing), and all three post notifications on my phone.  If it is not listed on my calendar, then it is unlikely to be completed on time.  The pop up reminders are helpful because if I am running behind schedule in my day, then I am reminded what I still need to accomplish.

After you establish personal accountability measures like a checklist, calendar, and reminders, consider creating a partner accountability system.  I have three writing partners—one I write with about three hours a week, one at an hour a week, and one we communicate about our writing progress via email. 

A writing partnership does not have to be formal, in-person, or highly structured.  A writing partnership can allow for partner accountability as two people communicate to keep each other on track with their writing.  That partnership might be a daily or weekly email where they communicate about their writing goals.  It could be a regular meeting time, in-person, via phone, or online.  

Writing is both a personal and a community activity.  People write while alone, but need to stay connected with the world around them to stay observant and hone their skills.  Connecting with a writing community can be a positive step towards establishing a personal writing practice that works. 

Over the years, I have joined several different writing communities, and each one operates in its own way.  One group of writers met weekly at a coffee shop and wrote in silence around a long table.  In the meetings I attended, only one other writer spoke to me at all. 

In other groups, we have engaged in active workshops and critiques of each writers’ pieces with a focus on helping each writer improve.  In another group, we spent some time writing quietly and time asking each other questions and soliciting advice about a particular section.  And in another, we rotate the facilitation duty and each bring in different activities to stimulate creativity. 

Every group has its own pace, tone, and purpose.  Writing with other writers increases one’s level of accountability, because once you attend a meeting, people get the idea that you will show up again.  Attending writing meetings does not work arriving emptyhanded.  Writers expect you to write, to make an effort, and to take steps forward.  They can be the kindest people and most supportive when it comes to gently pushing another writer towards a set goal. 

If this is your year, if you have a new writing goal in mind, and if you are ready to start writing, then start.  And when you fail to meet your goal, brush off the dust and take another step towards the goal.  
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Decide to write.

Set aside time to write.

Set a writing goal.

Set a writing schedule.

Use a checklist, calendar, or reminders.

Hold yourself accountable.

Join a community.  

Accept occasional setbacks and keep writing.
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Over the last year, I journaled, wrote about journaling, and researched journaling.  What began somewhere between a passing curiosity and the search for an open-ended personal writing format resulted in a wealth of information on an informative, effective practice.  Although simple, journaling has the power to heal.
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The practice is uncomplicated and widespread; most people have journaled at some point in their lives.  From the time that we could hold a pencil in hand, many people dotted down lists, drafted up ideas, and crafted creative stories and poetry—all of which were intended to share with an audience of one. 

The magic of journaling is that writers are free of all constraints since they write solely for themselves.  The journal writer does not have to worry about details like grammar, spelling, or correcting errors.  Never does a journal writer need to satisfy a reader’s expectations or an editor’s length requirements.  For most of us, our writing is controlled by someone else—a teacher, a supervisor, an editor, a reader, a professor, an employer, or someone who expects that our writing match their desires.

When we journal, we change the focus of writing.  We write for ourselves, to ourselves, and about the topics that press upon us most within the moment.  When we journal, we can be reflective, curious, creative, or emotional, and that level of freedom creates changes in us in both how we write and how the writing affects us throughout the journaling process.  


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A fair bit of research has been conducted over the last twenty years about journaling, especially its effects on people who are new to journaling for stress management.  The outcomes of a consistent journaling practice are encouraging: people’s stress reduce, people’s relationships improve, and people’s sense of self-worth increase. 
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Journaling is a valid, researched form of stress relief that has the power to improve the lives of any writer who takes up a pencil and starts journaling.  Multiple studies have demonstrated that journaling provides a stress management technique accessible to most everyone.

A young child of 6 or 7 years old may journal in images, collages, and individual words to express the complexities of learning within the complicated world around them.  Teenagers may journal by writing song lyrics, poetry, or short stories to work through the challenging emotions and relationships.  Adults may journal about everything from professional difficulties to relationship questions to creative ideas. 

Writers can use journaling to fulfill every purpose we have—to get organized, to get inspired, to be heard, to be genuine, to work through complicated thoughts, and to put overly-complicated emotions to rest.  


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​Many people live in a world that is moving too fast.  When the everyday life is out of one’s control, it can feel overwhelming, destructive, and stressful, but we can use mindfulness techniques to slow things down and regain control over the everyday.
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Mindfulness is a state of mind of being aware of one’s situation or condition.  It describes activities and techniques that that are used to achieve a state of such awareness. 

Journaling can be used and is used to achieve mindfulness.  When life is out of control, stressful, and downright miserable, then taking time to journal can create just the mental break we need.  When we journal, we slow down time to focus on small things: individual questions, challenging situations, and ideas waiting to be explored. 

When journaling, we can write about the books we read, the ideas we create, the situations we regret, and the relationships we promote.  In a stressful world, journaling becomes a form of self-care where the writer can focus on the details of life—dissect them, concentrate on them, and delve into them rather than be overwhelmed by them.  

If anyone ever said that journal writing must be reflective personal writing only, they were mistaken.  One of the amazing aspects of journal writing is its flexibility.  As we journal, it is completely reasonable that one section is dedicated to reflections on the past, another section is dedicated to current books being read, and another section is dedicated to creative writing.
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What we do with our journaling time changes from month to month, and for some people it changes day to day.  When the creative mood strikes, the journal is a perfect place to work out creative ideas—jot down ideas, compose stories, and draw sketches of works in progress.  A list, a brainstorm, and a doodle are all creative expressions that move inventive thoughts and ideas from the mind to the page. 

When we journal, we take a step towards having more control, a gentle style of control over ourselves—over our thoughts, emotions, concerns, and considerations.  By journaling regularly, we can move from a space of allowing the world to overwhelm us to a space where the world is our amusing plaything. 

If you do not journal currently, consider starting a journaling practice.  Write about your thoughts, write about the book you are reading, write about the events of the past that still bother you then rewrite them with a better outcome so that you take back your control.  Through journaling, we can find a sense of calm, a feeling of lessened anxiety, and an overall improved confidence to manage the wild world around us.  

Sometimes in the writing field, people are shuffled down two paths of thought: using writing as a means to making money and using writing as a means to making an academic career.  The internet can attest to hundreds of programs, gurus, and professional coaches who promise that individual writers can become the next JK Rowling or Dan Brown by writing, marketing, and selling.  Writing becomes the means to an end, and that end is advertised as a big house and fast car.  Down the other path, writing is a forensic tool to dissecting literature, historical events, and human interaction.  Academics hone their writing skills to compete in the world of publish or perish, the land where those who win are those who make discoveries on cutting-edge topics and stay ahead of the pack of fellow academics by writing as quickly as possible.   
During my time as a writer, I have walked both of these paths.  I have written, published, and marketed with the hopes that one of my books would be of such high interest that ten thousand readers would buy a copy and share it with their friends as a must read.  The path from writing to making money is wrapped up in the drive that Americans have with materialism as both of a foundation for a wealthy life but also a personal affirmation of value.  When we make money, we have a sense of being valued, and writers can get caught up in the drive to connect writing and making money.  
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Although writing for money and academic publishing have their merits, both of these paths give a false promise of personal satisfaction.  People who are driven to write, regardless of their talent or academic achievements, gain pleasure through the act of writing.  The writing itself is therapeutic, relaxing, and supports our need to make sense of the world.  

Writing—the act of organizing words onto the page is an activity that fulfills more than money or notoriety can.  The reason is that when we write for money or fame, we are writing for extrinsic factors.  We are writing because we expect acknowledgment to come from outside of ourselves.  We are hoping for dollars, for spoken appreciation, or for acknowledgment in a professional field, but those forms of recognition are short-lived and leave us with a sense of wanting more.  Writing for others does not heal, so we continue to seek rather than feel fulfilled.
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By changing our mindset, we can connect to a therapeutic process in writing.  When we write without an intended audience, we write for ourselves, and this can change the dynamic of why we write and how we write.  When we write for ourselves, we cut away the exterior masks that we normally keep firmly in place to operate in the social world.  But when we write for ourselves, we can be totally honest and open.  When we write for ourselves, we can be genuine and truthful in our intentions, and this expanded truth allows us to open up mental and emotional pathways that serve us as writers.  

​Through journaling, diary entries, personal reflections, and personal essays, writers seek to connect and develop the self through writing.  The process of writing can help us make sense of the world, sort through our complex thoughts and emotions, and create patterns out of chaos.  Many writers compose solely for their own purposes, and they are sometimes the most balanced writers as they are accessing a writing format that provides them with an outlet for making sense of life’s complexities.  This is the process of writing to heal.  

There are activities like journaling and diary writing that are open-ended, and many writers enjoy an open format style for personal writing.  If that works for you, try to write more in that area. 

One of the most effective formats is to write one’s own story.  This style of personal writing may feel a little uncomfortable at the beginning but has real, lasting, and even measurable lasting impact.  Many writers admit having at least some self-doubt, uncertainty, or question in their lives.  Whether those thoughts and feelings come from having a bumpy path through childhood, a partner who questions one’s true value, or a cultural experience that includes shame, blame, or regret over past deeds, writers can sometimes question what we want from life. 
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When we write and rewrite our personal stories, we engage in writing that is truly therapeutic because it has the power to make changes in us as individuals.  Composing your own story as a personal writing exercise might seem a little odd at the beginning, but once you give it a try, you will likely find the exercise to work wonders for your writing practice.  

​Consider these questions when writing without an audience to jumpstart your personal writing practice:
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A backstory focused on phrases: What are the phrases you hear yourself saying regularly?  How do these phrases affect you?  What different phrases can you use as replacements? Write that story.

A current story focused on needs: What is it that you need or want?  What would your life look like, feel like, and operate like if you have that thing right now?  Write that story.

A future story focused on desired events: What events would you like to happen?  What experiences would you like to be a part of? Write that story.

Humans are naturally attuned to storytelling.  When we have a situation that comes up, we create a story around it, and sometimes those stories create negative pathways that limit our productivity later in life.  Rewriting our stories reconnects us with our purposes and goals and gives us a writing task that serves our intrinsic needs for our own purposes.  Instead of writing for money or publishing, we can write for personal gain. 

If you are able to answer a couple of the questions above, then start writing along those ideas with the goal of moving towards writing one’s story.  Perhaps a phrase you have used is, “I can’t remember anything.”  This is one that I’ve used myself and has impacted me.  It affects me in that I’m making an excuse for being occasionally forgetful.  So, when I forget my phone at home or leave my scarf behind, I might tell myself, “I can’t remember anything.”  I need to get rid of that phrase before it does more damage. 

A possible replacement might be, “I am accomplishing a lot.”  Sure, I might forget my phone or leave my scarf behind but instead of creating a reason that I am forgetful, I can acknowledge the more accurate truth that I am a busy person trying to accomplish a lot of tasks in a day, and sometimes details fall through the cracks.  Instead of telling myself, “I can’t remember anything,” I am going to change that to, “I am accomplishing a lot.”  

​In my journal, my next step is to rewrite my story.  When engaging in this type of writing activity, it is perfectly OK to rewrite the past, the present, or the future—all of it.  So, I might write the story of forgetting my phone at home and replace the negative phrase with the more positive one.  This activity allows me to reframe my story in a positive light and acknowledge me for what I do accomplish, which is to complete a significant number of tasks in a single day. 

As well, I can write my present or future story just as easily.  By projecting my intended outcomes and purposes into my present or future story, I harness the power of the narrative to rewrite what I am doing, why I am doing it, and the outcomes that I experience because of my actions. 

This style of personal writing has the power to create both immediate and lasting impact on any writer.  Regardless if you have a high IQ and academic degrees or a high-power profession with significant income and professional fame or if you are a more average person who values friends and family, personal writing can create an immediate impact.  It allows writers to reframe the events of the past, correct the viewpoint of the present, and design a future that fits your true intentions and desired outcomes.  
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