“It was more for me than anyone else—what a surprise”
Have you ever considered that writing about your life might be as much a gift for yourself as for your family?
Last week I met with a client with whom I have worked for almost two years. She first came to me having endeavored to write her life story. After writing a few short chapters, she was having difficulty staying on track and writing in a way she hoped would be engaging for her grandchildren. I worked first as her memoir coach, then as her editor, and now we have seen her stories all the way through production—on that day last week, we were reviewing the final draft of her beautifully designed book one last time before sending it off to be printed.
The previous time we met, to go over her first draft proof, my client expressed doubts. She was feeling ambivalent about having told her story at all. Would her grandchildren ever care? Would her grown sons even want to read it? What if she offended someone? Was the effort narcissistic?
That wasn’t the first time I had heard her express reluctance around the telling of her stories. As her memoir coach I did more than provide writing assignments and feedback; I was also a sounding board for how she should frame her stories, yes, but also for the reservations that cropped up during the process. And you know what? I had been there before. So many of my clients experience this rollercoaster of emotions around writing their life.
Each time this client and I had a talk about the value—or perceived lack of value—around writing her stories, we would circle back to her initial goals: wanting to tell the stories of her life both to create a legacy around her parents’ fortitude and resilience during the Holocaust years and beyond (to honor her ancestors), and to provide touchstones for her grandchildren, who might one day find wisdom in her own lived experience (a gift to her descendants). She always resumed her writing with renewed vigor. She had tapped into both the gravity and the joy of writing about one’s life.
During this particular meeting, though, my client became aware of something I had known all along: That examining and writing about her life was as much a gift to herself as to her family. She smiled at me and grasped my hand across the table: “Do you know what?” she whispered. “All of this, it was more for me than anyone else.” I sat quietly, smiling at her revelation. “What a surprise that was for me!” she added.
And here’s the thing: I can repeat this over and over when talking to a prospective client; I can write about it till the cows come home, as they say. But no one really gets it (or believes me) when I tell them that writing about their life is a gift they can give to themselves. That it is healing. Revelatory. Fulfilling.
So together we focus on the other why’s—honoring those who came before, and sharing with those who come after. We create legacy and family history and write FOR our loved ones.
And then, almost always, a surprise…that the process was worthwhile even if it was just for THEM.
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