I process my world through story (and you probably do too), whether that’s through reading a novel, picking apart a difficult situation with my husband, running through the stories my brain tells myself in therapy, or listening to a friend pour out her story and promising to help her carry it. Even though I haven’t written my memoir yet, everything I’m living and doing right is preparing me for the writing of it. When you’re in the middle of your story, not quite ready to write it, you can still think and process like a writer so that when your soul gives you the green light, you’re ready to go.

Your planned writing process might look something like potty training my third child: unnerving, confusing, frustrating, and a little messy. You might be tempted to think, Well maybe I’m just not a writer or I wish I could be a writer but I cannot for the life of me figure this out. Those are normal things to think—but they’re not true. The problem isn’t that you’re just not a writer or bad at disciplining yourself to write. The problem is that what you thought was a one-size-fits-all approach to writing just isn't.

I see another question underneath this Google search, one that goes a little deeper, maybe hits a little closer to your heart. Maybe the person who sends this query into the void phrases it this way because saying what they really mean would be revealing a little too much of themselves. When someone asks Can a normal person write a book? what they’re actually saying is Would anyone really care about what I have to say?

It’s December, one of the busiest months of the year (maybe the busiest?). We’re supposed to feel merry and jolly, and we’re also supposed to already have our wrapping finished and cookies delivered to neighbors and work parties to show up to and Advent to observe and travel to plan and memories to make, dammit!

You love writing and maybe even had a dependable writing routine throughout the fall, but the holidays have thrown off all of your rhythms. Your manuscript languishes in a dusty folder on your computer, crowded out by address labels for holiday cards. Your document slips further and further down the “recently opened” menu, and every time you see it you feel a pang of guilt.

Sometimes I meet with writers who know exactly what the focus of their memoir will be: they know the story, the conflict, the resolution. They know what they want to say and are just foggy on how to write it. Other writers come to me with a spark that they have something to share—they just don’t know what it is yet.

I know how to work with both of these writers and put their thoughts—regardless of whether they have a manuscript yet—through this same process to ensure that the focus of their memoir is tight and compelling.