Memoir Miniseries: Think Drama, Not Melodrama

Leading up to a memoir and fiction workshop I’m teaching on April 13th, I’m publishing a blog post miniseries on a select number of topics for memoir writers—plus a Pro Tip on how writers of other genres can benefit from this information. This is the second post in the series. Find the previous post here.

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The world’s worst childhood. Poverty, abuse, financial catastrophe. Health struggles, addition, alcoholism. Disaster, disaster, disaster.

Am I talking about the evening news? No. I’m talking about topics we find in memoir. We might be forgiven for thinking the genre is a competition for who has the worst life and lived to tell us about it. No wonder the genre has been called “misery lit.”

Unsurprisingly, with all this focus on the awful, the aspiring memoir writer may believe that their dysfunctional childhood/youth/early adulthood is all they need. They don’t need to pay attention to crafting the story as they do to the depressing details.

Sorry folks: just because your life was hard, doesn’t make it a memoir.

Here’s the problem: a good memoir needs drama—conflict and tension that moves the story forward—and suffers from melodrama. This means thinking beyond your own personal sob story. Memoir writing, though potentially therapeutic, is not therapy.

Let’s explore the difference.

The need for drama

Although technically nonfiction, memoirs share more similarities with novels than they share with other nonfiction books. Good memoir makes use of character, dialogue, setting, scene, inner monologue, tension, and pacing. The principal difference between memoirs and novels is, of course, that in a memoir the story is true.

What makes a good novel? At heart, something needs to happen. There has to be some kind of conflict, journey, and/or transformation. If everything is peaches and cream, then we have no story.

If Bridget Jones had her $#%* together, would we have a story? (Bridget Jones’s Diary)
If Oliver Twist wasn’t an orphan, would we have a story? (Oliver Twist)
If Mark Watney wasn’t left behind on Mars, would we have a story? (The Martian)

You get the picture. Think drama.

How do we create a hero (protagonist) whom readers want to read about (hint: in a memoir, this is probably you)? Give them*:

• a Problem (or a flaw that needs fixing)
• a Want (or a goal that the hero is pursuing)
• a Need (or a life lesson to be learned)

*Credit: Save the Cat! Writes a Novel.

Conflict and tension do NOT need to be the result of My Terrible Dysfunctional Barely Survived Childhood.

Eat, Pray, Love was about an existential crisis. Kitchen Confidential is a behind-the-scenes look at the volatile world of restaurant kitchen staff. Reading Lolita in Tehran centers around a love of literature. Lab Girl reflects on the challenges of research science.

Sure, they are all about other things, too. My point is, memoirs are not exclusively disaster stories. What problem, want, and need are you choosing to share? If there is no obstacle in your way, do you have a book? I think you know the answer.

Melodrama versus Drama: The Difference

Melodrama is about you. Drama is about the story.

I said before that memoir is not therapy, although the act of processing your trauma through writing can be therapeutic. This is because memoir isn’t just about your personal experience, it’s about how you changed/what you learned as a result of it—and what your reader can learn or change about themselves by reading it.

We don’t care about your rough childhood. We care that you overcame it (and how you overcame it).

We don’t care that you struggled with addiction. We care that you learned not to judge other people so harshly, in your process of overcoming your addiction (or maybe that you still have to work at this).

The first is melodrama; the second is drama.

The difference comes down to your (the writer’s) perspective. If you are still in the thick of trauma, you are not best placed to write a memoir about it, since you haven’t had a chance to process this experience for yourself, much less any readers.

Your first draft may be more therapy than perspective. Know that you’re going to have to provide perspective if you want anyone else to read your memoir. Know also that while you don’t need catastrophe, you do need change.

Pro Tip for ALL Genres

Your book needs forward momentum. Every genre can (and should) make use of the Problem/Want/Need strategy. In some genres of nonfiction, the conflict may well be between what the reader knows and doesn’t know, or what they want and what they have in their business/personal relationships/creative endeavors, etc. Often, YOU are the one providing the solution.

What Problem, Want, or Need do your readers have?

Every genre can (and should) make use of the Problem/Want/Need strategy. #writingtip Click To TweetYour perspective could be the most important and unique selling point of your book. After all, most of us aren’t the only branding experts/massage therapists/cat herders on the planet. You are providing more than information on your topic; you’re providing specific insight.

And if you’re writing fiction, I hope I don’t need to tell you again that your story needs conflict, and if your character suffers a terrible childhood they also need to learn or change along the way.

Bottom Line

We’re not reading this book because everything is hunky-dory and nothing happens. What happens? How does your protagonist (you) change or evolve as a result? What do they learn that the reader can also learn?

Give us drama.
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Are you struggling with drama and melodrama? Is your pacing off, and does your book lack forward momentum (readers want to turn pages…to read, not skip)? A structure brainstorm might be in order.

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