Why We Write About Ourselves (And Others)

January 27, 2022

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

Maya Angelou

When Maya Angelou was seven years old, she testified against the man who sexually assaulted her. Days later, he was found beaten to death after being released from prison one day into his yearlong sentence. She believed her words had killed him and stopped speaking for almost six years. Such a fear of the consequences has silenced many writers.

Memoirists often grapple with telling stories and most worry about the collateral damage that will be caused to the other people in their lives. Mary Karr even goes so far as to issue a warning in The Art of Memoir — Don’t write about people you hate (although she notes some claim it can be done with love).

In the book where I swiped the title for this post, Why We Write About Ourselves: Twenty Memoirists on Why They Expose Themselves (and Others) in the Name of Literature, Cheryl Strayed writes how she walks a fine line with her real-life characters. She recognizes some people would be hurt if she portrayed them honestly, so she doesn’t write about them. Except when she believes, such as the case with her father, that it is her right to write about her own life and his place in it.

In my memoir class, this question comes up repeatedly. Interestingly though, it’s not one I lose sleep over. I take the position espoused by Anne Lamott: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

My biggest concern is that I don’t want my memoir to feel like a work of revenge. I struggle every day to tell the truth in such a way that readers will understand the complexity of the characters I’m describing. People have done some pretty shitty things to me. Some have just failed to live up to expectations. Still others have shown themselves to be complete hypocrites. I want readers to understand why these characters act the way they do and how, even the worst behaviors have benefited me.

Even this early on, I’ve seen the reactions when people are confronted with their true selves. Their actions often cast them in a less than flattering light. (Or, as I like to point out, the way I see them.) I can change the names, or do something to shield their identities, but for those who are close to me, they will likely recognize these people. So, do I not write about them because they will be hurt? Or, do I write about them because they have affected my life? That is my dilemma.