Most people assume memoir begins with writing, with outlines, chapters, structure, sentences, and words. But in truth, the writing comes later, often much later.

The best memoirs begin with listening; specifically, with the ghostwriter listening to the author.

Deep, attentive listening allows the story to emerge in its own time and shape. It reveals patterns the storyteller may not be aware of, and allows emotional truth that hasn’t yet found purchase to rise to the surface. Listening invites reflection, rather than performance.

When someone feels truly listened to, they speak differently. They remember differently, and they understand themselves differently. The story becomes fuller, more honest, more textured.

This is why, in the early stages of memoir, there’s no rush to organize, no pressure to produce. There’s room for the story to grow and expand, to find its path and truth.

This listening is not passive. It is the work.

It’s how we discover the arc beneath the anecdotes, the meaning beneath the memories, the voice struggling to be heard above the noise.

Writing eventually shapes the story, but listening reveals it.