The Daunting First Note
Ever sat down at a piano for the first time and felt completely overwhelmed? Your fingers hover over the keys, but instead of music, all you hear is the deafening silence of “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Memoir storytelling can feel the same way. You sit down, ready to capture your life’s experiences, but suddenly… nothing. The blank page stares back, daring you to make the first move.
But here’s the good news: storytelling, like playing an instrument, is a skill—not a magic trick you’re either born with or without. And just like music, it gets easier with practice. You don’t start with Beethoven. You start with “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
The Myth of Instant Talent
Some people believe musicians just pick up a guitar and, within days, are shredding like Eddie Van Halen. The same myth surrounds memoir storytelling: that some folks are just “natural” storytellers while the rest of us fumble along.
That’s nonsense. Behind every great musician is years of practice—wrong notes, off-key singing, and sore fingers. Behind every great storyteller? Rough drafts, half-finished sentences, and plenty of crumpled pages (or, let’s be real, deleted Word documents).
If you’ve ever thought, “I’m just not a writer,” remember: neither was anyone else until they started writing.
Building “Muscle Memory” for Memoir Storytelling
Musicians practice scales. Athletes drill the same moves over and over. Writers? We build our storytelling muscles through small, focused exercises.
If the thought of writing a full memoir makes you break into a cold sweat, don’t. Instead, start small:
📝 The Five-Minute Memory: Set a timer for five minutes. Write about a single vivid moment—your first bike ride, a childhood snow day, that time you completely embarrassed yourself at a wedding. Keep it simple.
📝 Sensory Snapshot: Pick a place—a kitchen, a front porch, a favorite coffee shop. Describe it using all five senses. The smell of fresh biscuits, the squeak of an old screen door, the way the morning sun hit the floor.
📝 Dialogue Drills: Recreate a short conversation from memory. How did people really talk? Try capturing the quirks—the way your dad always said, “Welp” before giving bad news, or how your grandma’s advice always came with a knowing look.
Like any good warm-up, these exercises loosen you up, making memoir storytelling feel less daunting and more like second nature.
From Simple Scales to Full Performances
Nobody sits down at a piano for the first time and plays Rachmaninoff. (If they do, they should probably be studied by scientists.)
Musicians start with simple exercises and gradually move to more complex pieces. Memoir storytelling works the same way. You don’t need to launch into a sweeping, life-spanning memoir on day one. Instead, think of it as a progression:
First, write about a single moment—one memory, one scene.
Then, expand into a short narrative with conflict—maybe a childhood argument or a day that didn’t go as planned.
Finally, start connecting stories into a larger theme. Maybe that childhood memory of watching your grandfather work the garden connects to your later appreciation for patience.
Before you know it, you’ve gone from plunking out notes to playing a song.
Repetition, Revision, and Embracing the “Terrible First Draft”
Ever hear a musician play a song over and over again, tweaking each note until it’s just right? Writers do the same thing.
Your first draft will probably be messy. That’s normal. No one gets it perfect the first time—not musicians, not painters, not writers. Hemingway himself said, “The first draft of anything is garbage.” (And he was Hemingway.)
The trick is to get something—anything—on the page. Then, you shape it, refine it, add details, trim the unnecessary fluff. Memoir storytelling isn’t just about writing—it’s about rewriting.
Finding Your Rhythm and Style
Every musician develops their own style. You can tell the difference between a blues guitarist and a classical pianist just by the way they play.
Storytelling is the same way. Some writers are straight-shooters, telling it like it is. Others lean into humor, finding the ridiculous in everyday life. Some paint vivid, poetic pictures, while others keep it quick and punchy.
The only way to find your voice? Experiment. Try writing a funny story. Then, tell the same story seriously. See which feels more natural. Your unique memoir storytelling style will emerge, just like a musician finding their signature sound.
Performing for an Audience
At some point, every musician has to play for someone else. Otherwise, what’s the point?
Memoir storytelling is no different. Whether it’s reading your work to a friend, sharing in a writing group, or telling your story out loud, audience feedback makes you better.
Here’s what happens when you share:
✅ You notice which parts hold attention and which parts drag.
✅ You hear how your words sound out loud (which often exposes clunky sentences).
✅ You get real reactions, which helps shape your storytelling instincts.
It’s scary at first—just like a first recital—but over time, it becomes second nature.
Keep Playing, Keep Writing
The first time you write, it might feel clumsy. The sentences might not flow. You might feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.
But if you keep going—keep practicing those “scales” of memoir storytelling—you’ll start to see progress. The words will come more easily. The blank page won’t seem so intimidating. And one day, without even realizing it, you’ll sit down and write something beautiful.
So don’t wait until you “feel ready.” Just start. Write a little today. And tomorrow. And the next day.
Before you know it, you’ll be making music.
