Wondering how to start writing your memoir almost always runs into the same obstacle: the blank page. You sit down to write your whole life, feel the weight of “where do I begin?” and give up before the first sentence. The problem is not a lack of discipline — it is treating the first day as if it had to count for a whole life.
The first day does not need to matter
There is a simple principle behind any habit that is hard to start: the first step does not need to be good or important — it only needs to exist. Once the first page is written, even a weak one, the psychological barrier of the “blank page” has been crossed, and the second page comes more easily. The goal of day one is not to write well. It is to write anything at all.
Forget chronological order
You do not need to write from birth to today, in order. Memory does not work that way. Start from any point that is alive in your mind right now — you can sort out the order later. To understand why this trap and others stop so many people, see the most common mistakes when writing your memoir.
A 20-minute exercise for today
If you want to start now, without waiting for the perfect moment, do this:
- Choose an object, not a date — a photo, a watch, a dish that reminds you of someone.
- Write for 10 minutes without stopping about the first scene the object brings to mind: what you saw, heard and smelled at that moment.
- Stop at 10 minutes, reread, then write another 10 about a detail you left out.
There is no wrong way to do this exercise. Whatever comes out is already more than existed before you sat down.
Speak before you write
If writing still feels stuck, speak. Record yourself telling the story to an imaginary listener. Speaking is more natural than drafting, and it keeps your own way of saying things. It is also the basis of an autobiography without writing.
After day one
Set aside a little time, but regularly — one memory a week yields more than a marathon that never happens again. To turn this first exercise into a real routine, see how to build a habit of recording memories. Over time, the fragments come together, and you realize you are already on your way to writing your own book, one piece at a time.
Start with a place you can describe
It might be a kitchen in Montréal, a street in Halifax or a childhood home outside Canada. Note who was there, the language of the conversation and one concrete detail: the winter coat on the hook, an open window, the food on the table. These elements belong to your experience; there is no need to turn the memory into a portrait of the whole country. If you do not know the year, write an approximate date and keep the doubt visible.
Further reading: Library and Archives Canada — research.