The other night, my husband Chris and I were scrolling through Netflix, looking for something to watch. We try to find something we both like, although I don’t know why since Chris falls asleep on the couch Every.Single.Night. A new documentary caught our attention, Sweet Bobby: My Catfish Nightmare. “Kirat falls for a man she meets online, only to get swept up in a virtual relationship that upends her life for years, in this shocking documentary.” We like “shocking documentaries,” so we grabbed a bowl of ice cream, plopped on the couch, and hit play.
Ten minutes in, Chris was fast asleep, and I found myself only half-watching the documentary, more interested in scrolling through my phone. Despite its promising premise – a woman being catfished for nine years – the story felt hollow, missing something essential that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. (For those unfamiliar, catfishing is when someone creates a fake online identity to deceive others, usually for romantic purposes.)
As I later nudged Chris awake to head upstairs to bed, it hit me. We never learned why the perpetrator spent nine years crafting this elaborate deception or why Kirat was so susceptible to being catfished. These missing whys made what could have been a compelling story feel like a simple sequence of events.
This revelation reminded me of what I consider the most crucial element in memoir writing: the WHY behind our stories. A memoir isn’t simply a chronological recounting of events – this happened, then that happened – that’s an autobiography. A memoir dives deeper, exploring the emotional currents that drive our choices and shape our experiences.
Take Cheryl Strayed’s memoir Wild. She could have simply told us about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail alone – an impressive feat in itself. But the power of Wild lies in her WHY: how the death of her mother shattered her world, leading to destructive behaviors and a broken marriage. Her thousand-mile journey wasn’t just about completing a trail; it was about walking herself back to the woman her mother raised her to be. This deeper truth transforms her story from an adventure tale into a profound exploration of grief, healing, and self-discovery.
This is the essence of a powerful memoir – it’s not just about sharing our experiences but about helping readers understand something fundamental about being human. When we reveal our WHY, we create a bridge that allows readers to connect their own struggles, triumphs, and questions to our story. We transform personal experience into universal truth.
Unfortunately, I’ll never learn why Kirat was catfished or why my husband Chris falls asleep on the couch Every.Single.Night.