What’s a memoir map? And how can it help you organize your stories?
Have you been collecting memories, notes, voice memos, maybe even a tattered box of keepsakes… and now you’re wondering, what am I supposed to do with all this?
Good news: you don’t have to figure it all out at once.
You need a map. A memoir map. Here’s my 5-step process for putting it together.
Step 1: Gather your memory fragments.
Before you can organize anything, you need to gather what you have.
Pull out the sticky notes, the scribbled pages in your journal, the voice memos you recorded while walking the dog.
Print out that email you wrote to your friend that made her cry (in a good way).
Take the objects from your memory box—that postcard, that hospital bracelet, that weird necklace you wore every day in 1994—and sit with them for a moment.
This is your raw material. It may feel scattered right now. That’s okay.
Step 2: Look for threads.
Once you’ve gathered everything, it’s time to look for themes.
Ask yourself:
What keeps showing up?
What patterns are forming?
What emotions or lessons repeat across the years?
Some themes may be obvious, like grief, motherhood, or reinvention. Others might surprise you (shame, freedom, restlessness, forgiveness). These threads are the connective tissue that will one day hold your story together.
I like to color-code or tag memories with sticky notes or simple labels like “career,” “love,” “loss,” “identity.” Keep it loose. You’re not sorting laundry, you’re bringing meaning to the surface. And that can be messy.
Step 3: Sketch your memoir map.
Now for the fun part: begin building the shape of your story.
This doesn’t have to be a formal outline (unless you like that sort of thing). It can be a timeline, a list of turning points, a three-act arc, or a bunch of index cards on your kitchen table.
Some memoirs follow life chronologically. Others move by theme. Others bounce between past and present. There’s no proper structure, just the one that feels like yours.
Ask:
Where does my story begin?
What changed me?
What seasons or chapters naturally group together?
If it feels overwhelming, pick one memory and ask: What led up to this? What came after?
Congratulations, you’ve just created a thread!
Step 4: Find the gaps (and fill them gently).
As you map your story, you’ll start noticing gaps.
You might realize you haven’t written much about your twenties. Or there’s a stretch of years that’s a bit blurry. That’s normal.
You can fill those spaces by asking:
What was happening in my life during that time?
What was I feeling? Avoiding? Becoming?
Are there stories I’ve been hesitant to tell?
Don’t force yourself to go somewhere you’re not ready to go… but do stay curious. Some of the richest stories emerge from the spaces we almost skipped.
Step 5: Let the map evolve.
Your memoir map is a guide, not a rulebook. You’ll move things around. You’ll ditch some stories. You’ll write one and realize that was the heart of the whole book all along.
Let the process breathe.
You’re not building IKEA furniture (thank God!). You’re shaping something human, alive, and full of grace and wisdom.
You have many of the pieces. Now, let’s shape the story.
So many women reach this point—memory fragments in hand, a head full of half-remembered feelings—and stop.
They think, “I don’t know how to do this.” But you already are doing it.
You’re remembering. Reflecting. Gathering the pieces that shaped you.
And with the right kind of help, you can transform those pieces into something lasting.
If you’d like to talk through your own map, or if you’re feeling stuck and don’t know where to begin, I’d be honored to help you take the next step.
