It's the problem with fairy tales. From far away, they seem so perfect. But up close, they're just as complicated as real life.

—Soman Chainani

You’re no longer in Kansas—but you’re not in Oz either.

You’re in the woods. And it’s foggy, disorienting, and weirdly quiet, except for the whispers of fear, doubt, and second-guessing.

Welcome to the murky marshland—also known as the reactive middle.

This is the messy heart of your memoir—where many memoirs fall off the map.

In Framing Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens, we discussed how well-crafted memoirs have a Three-Act Story. Let’s review those three acts.

Act 1: The Beginning (Set-Up)

The beginning sets the stage by introducing the main players—Hero, Villain, Fairy Godmother, and Kindred Spirit—while establishing the world of the story. It also presents the situation at hand and foreshadows the main problem (Life-and-Death Struggle) that drives the narrative forward. The beginning ends with Leaving the Shire.

Act 2: The Middle (Struggle)

This is where the Hero takes action to try solving the Life-and-Death Struggle. They will try various solutions, encounter resistance, and face setbacks. This is where your smaller stories come into play, like dominoes falling one by one, building momentum toward the climax.

Act 3: The End (Climactic Sequence and Resolution)

The climactic sequence leads to a final showdown. The struggle finally pays off, and the main problem (introduced in the beginning) is resolved. But this victory isn’t just handed to the Hero—it’s hard-won, requiring persistence and growth. Only then can you write “The End.”

Where Are We Now?

We’re in the middle struggle—but only the first half of the middle. That’s because, despite there being only three parts to a story, the middle—which is the biggest section—is split in two.

Both halves are a struggle, but the struggle is divided between a reactive struggle and a proactive struggle. Understanding this can make or break your memoir’s potential to keep readers.

The concept of a Three-Act Story with a split middle is common throughout literature and movies. The centerpiece of your memoir—and the changing of the guard—happens in the middle of the middle—in the Looking Glass Moment, where the Hero switches from being reactive to becoming proactive. They do this because they’ve learned something that awakens them.

But we’re getting ahead of the story. For now, we are focusing on the first half of the middle. It’s still a struggle—just a reactive struggle.

Think of the Two Struggles

Think about a girl who is bullied at school every day because another girl wants her lunch money. She gets up every morning and her mom gives her lunch money, but she rarely makes it to the lunch line because the money is stolen before lunch.

She tries different tactics to protect her money. She hides it in a book. She tucks it in her shoe. She gives it to a friend to keep. But every day, the bully figures it out and steals it again.

After weeks of being bullied, she wonders if the bully doesn’t have lunch money and that’s why she steals hers. She decides to offer half of her lunch money to the bully. It doesn’t work. The bully wants all of it. She tries to smile and befriend the bully. But that doesn’t work either.

She decides to fight back by hitting the other girl with her book bag, but that only lands her in the principal’s office. While she’s there, she tells the principal what’s happening, and the other girl is punished too. Her victory is short-lived because the next week, the other girl is back in true bully form, demanding her lunch money.

The Pivotal Moment

When she notices the other girl wearing the same dress every day, she asks her mother if she can invite the other girl over to spend the night. Her mother, knowing everything that has transpired, agrees hesitantly.

She is the same size as the bully. She wants to give her some of her clothes. On the night of the sleepover, she is sick to her stomach. What if this doesn’t work? Then she will have given this bully access to her home and her bedroom. What more can she steal from her?

The stakes are high. This is the showdown at midnight in the bedroom—where two opposing forces meet up and decide to either fight it out or become friends.

It turns out the bully girl has never been in a home as nice as our Hero’s. Never slept in a bed with princess furniture and baby dolls and so many stuffies looking on. But instead of fighting, she bursts into tears when she sees the beautiful clothes our Hero and her mother have set out for her.

As an added bonus, the Hero offers her a choice of her stuffies.

What started as a terrible, nauseating battle turns into a transformational moment as a beautiful friendship forms and the two girls grow up as best friends and sisters.

If only all the problems of the world were so easily solved, right?

I hope this little story helps you visualize how there can be two different halves of the middle struggle.

In the first half, the Villain kept our Hero on her toes, dodging one upset after another.

Then she became proactive and tried new ways to approach the bully.

Finally, her newer approaches to the problem overcame the bully’s tactics—and the other girl was a bully no more.

And What About You?

You’ve burned the boats. Walked away from the job, the church, the marriage, or the family. You’ve stepped into a world that is new, uncertain, and full of emotional potholes.

It’s important to note that leaving doesn’t always start with your feet.
Sometimes it begins in the mind—in the quiet refusal to keep playing along.

This is as much an inner journey as a physical one.

What Does Your Journey Through the Woods Look Like?

Your decision to leave the Shire was only the beginning. Now you must navigate the fallout. Trees are falling across your path, floods are threatening to sweep your dreams away, flying monkeys are dive-bombing your head, and a wolf is in hot pursuit to steal your life and dignity.

All you can do at this point is duck, dodge, hide—and hope to find a better way to deal with all the crap thrown at you.

You’re wading through the reactive middle.

You’re not yet in control.

You’re not transformed.

You’re just reacting to what’s happening around you—dodging backlash, unpacking grief, and facing consequences that you didn’t see coming.

Welcome to the “WTF?” wilderness.

This is survival mode.

Everywhere you step, there are emotional landmines. The map is gone. The Fairy Godmother has gone on break. And you're left to stumble forward, hoping something resembling a path will appear.

Why the Setup Matters

Before you entered the woods, you laid the groundwork. Your early chapters introduced us to the cast of characters, your beliefs, your background, and—importantly—the Villain and Inklings of Trouble.

Here, in the middle of the story, we get to see how you react to those villains, losses, betrayals, and disillusionments. You’re not making anything up—this is simply the natural chain reaction of events set in motion by your inciting incident: a moment so pivotal that it pushed you into Leaving the Shire (emotionally, spiritually, or physically).

Think of Leaving the Shire as an earthquake—and this middle section like a series of emotional aftershocks.

Key Ingredients of the Reactive Middle

1. Rising Tension

What are the consequences of your choice to leave or speak up? What has it cost you?
When did your beliefs start to unravel?

2. Trials and Tests

What are your struggles in the woods?

Do you feel confident in your choices, or do you waver?

Do you want to go back—or keep going?

Does your character have to choose between being free and being safe?

3. Obstacles and Helpers

When and where will your supporting cast show up?

How much of this journey through the woods will you travel alone?

Will you find:

• A friend who validates your pain

• A therapist who names your patterns

• A book, song, or quote that changes your point of view

• Or a toxic ex, pastor, or parent who keeps poking the wound

Both mentors and monsters are at odds in the woods—and that adds to the tension.

4. An Emotional Journey

This isn’t just about what happened—it’s about how it happened and what it means.

You’re shifting slowly from obedience to awareness:

“I kept trying to be the good girl, but every time I obeyed, I lost a piece of myself. Until I finally asked—what if I don’t need saving?”

You’re not yet transformed. Not yet triumphant. You’re just reacting.

And that’s your plot.

The Domino Effect

The inciting incident that sets the story in motion and causes you to leave the Shire is the first domino in a chain reaction. That reaction will continue throughout your story. Each event will build on the one before.

Once again—you are not making stuff up. Life is a chain reaction.

The difficult part for the memoir writer is to think long and hard about what these events were—and how you responded.

You might be afraid your memoir doesn’t have a plot, but the dominoes falling in response to why you left the Shire is the plot.

If you’re in the woods—flailing in the FOG (fear, obligation, and guilt put on you by the Villain)—but you keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Slow down and describe your feelings—one reaction at a time.

Memoir Requires Deep Introspection

This deep thinking demands memory tools. You might want to use:

• Think of your memory as a superpower

• Old photos

• Songs you might have heard on the radio

• Stories from others

• Records of birth and death

• Dates you moved from one place to another

Each of these might be clues to the mystery of why you acted the way you did—and made the choices you made.

Emotional Truth Over Factual Detail

Remember—you’re tracking the emotional truth, not just the factual one.

I deal very little in facts. Facts can obscure the truth.
You can tell so many facts you never get to the truth.
You can tell the places where, the people who, the times when, the reasons why—
and never get to the human truth, which is love and pain and loss and triumph.
—Maya Angelou

If you can focus on that human truth—of love, pain, loss, and triumph—you will be well on your way to a memoir that resonates.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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When we step into the family, by the act of being born, we do step into a world which is incalculable, into a world which has its own strange laws, into a world which could do without us, into a world we have not made. In other words, when we step into the family we step into a fairy tale.

—Gilbert K. Chesterton

You’ve probably heard the saying, “It takes a village.” Well, that’s never more true than when you begin your memoir.

To write a memoir that intrigues your readers, you’ll want to set up your village of characters. It’s not enough to have a good story about you—no story is completely about you. It involves other people who influenced you, fought with or for you, and generally either supported or failed to support your goals in life.

Many people mistakenly think their story is only about them. But unless you were kidnapped and raised in a cave by squirrels (and hey, even that would involve a squirrel village), chances are you had a cast of characters surrounding you as you grew up. This holds true even if you felt completely alone.

Think of Belle, wandering through her alpine village with her nose in a book. She might have felt like a total outsider, but the audience sees a bustling world around her—shopkeepers, goats, a guy who needs six eggs, and lots of cheery “bonjour!”s.

The beginning of your memoir is your chance to introduce your village—the people, places, and dynamics that shaped your early world.

But heads up: it’s not enough to say, “Here’s Bill, and my other brother Bill, and—oh look!—my other brother Bill.” You’ve got to show us who they are as characters, so we can keep them straight.

So, if you do happen to have three brothers named Bill (no judgment), help your reader out. Maybe they’re Bill the Shoemaker, Bill the Candlemaker, and Bill the Butcher. Instantly more memorable, right?

Plus, let’s be honest—Bill the Candlemaker gives cozy, warm vibes. Bill the Shoemaker? Practical and grounded. But Bill the Butcher? The reader is already a little nervous around him... and probably for good reason. (Otherwise, you’d give him a new name—because it’s your memoir, and you can change names.

What Do You Need to Set Up Your Memoir?

1. An Enchanted Hook

(We just discussed this in Chapter 1)

2. Your Unique Voice

In a novel, it would be the voice of the main character or the all-knowing narrator, but in memoir, the narrator is you.

This means your tone, reflection, and vibe really matter. Whether it's hilarious, haunting, or poetic, your voice is the main thing that makes someone fall in love with your way of telling the story—not just the story itself.

Your reader is asking, “Do I trust you to tell me this story?”

And the answer had better be a resounding YES.

3. A Glimpse of Your “Before” World

You’ve got to show us what life looked like in your village—back in the beginning, before “Leaving the Shire” and everything changed.

This is true for both memoir and fiction. The "before" makes the reader feel the contrast when the dominoes start to tumble.

In Educated, we see Tara Westover’s isolated, survivalist life even before she questions it.

In Leaving the Saints, we can feel the clean mountain air, see the well-manicured lawns and beautiful families as Martha arrives in Salt Lake City. It makes us want to live there and wonder why anyone would want to leave.

Without the “before,” the transformation would have no punch.

4. The Stakes (or Why This Story Matters)

You don’t have to lay it all out, but we need inklings of trouble or hints of what’s at risk.

It helps if you can give us a glimpse of what the character wants.

Clue us in to what internal or external pressure might be building.

What’s the emotional or psychological thing you’re chasing—or avoiding?

What family conflict is simmering under the surface?

5. A Sense of Theme or Promise

This might be subtle, but it’s important. You’re planting seeds for the emotional journey ahead.

Will this be a story of resilience? A tale of transformation? A confession? A reckoning? A redemption? A reunion?

You don’t have to spell it out—just toss your reader a few snapshots.

What to Avoid in Your Set Up:

• A giant info-dump or backstory bomb.

• Vague musing without grounding in scene.

• Starting too early (like, “I was born in a small town in 1946…”—Unless you’re Dolly Parton).

• Clichés or generic writing that doesn’t reveal your unique voice.

The Setup Should:

✔ Hook the reader

✔ Introduce your voice

✔ Show the world “before”

✔ Hint at conflict and stakes

✔ Set the emotional tone or promise

If you’re thinking, “Wait, this feels like a lot of puzzle pieces,” you’d be right. But remember, you’re not telling your entire life story—you’re offering a carefully crafted window into it and you only have to take one memory at time.

As one teacher puts it:

Memoir isn’t a summary of a life; it’s a window into a life, very much like a photograph in its selective composition. It may look like a casual and even random calling up of bygone events. It’s not; it’s a deliberate construction.

—William Zinsser

Imagine how intriguing it is to open a book and sense a unique world where you can hear the storyteller’s voice in a reassuring tone, promising that they have a great story to tell. Then, as you keep reading, you start to sense something is unsettled—and you want to get to the heart of it.

If someone else’s memoir has ever pulled you in, now it’s your turn—to sculpt your own into a story worth hearing.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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At the centre of every fairy tale lay a truth that gave the story its power.
—Susan Wiggs

Every interesting memoir is secretly whispering a question to the reader.

Just as a fairytale begins with a spell—something that lures us in before we even realize we’ve been snagged—your memoir begins with a hook.

It doesn’t have to be a single dazzling sentence, though it can be. It might even stretch across an entire paragraph. The hook has one job, and it’s the most important one—to keep the reader reading.

Think of your hook as the shiny apple that tempts the reader into your world. It’s the glimmering promise of something juicy—maybe even a little dangerous. And once they take a bite? They’re in.

That’s why the hook matters so much. Without it, the rest of your story might never get the chance to shine.

And lucky for you, all you need to do is pique their curiosity with an unanswered question.

But What Exactly Is the Hook?

The hook is some sort of overarching question, spoken or implied, that keeps the reader turning pages. Without it, they’ll yawn, stretch, and set your book down to reorganize their sock drawer. You need to give them a reason to keep reading.

Now, I know what you might be thinking.

"Welp, that counts me out. I don’t have a hook. I can’t just make one up, so I guess I should stop writing now."

Ha. Nice try, but I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.

Here’s the secret. Your hook is one of the easiest things to figure out once you know what to look for.

And trust me, your memoir does have one… even if it’s still hiding under the floorboards with the dust bunnies and emotional baggage.

Let’s break it down.

A great hook can take the form of:

• A mystery

• An unexpected confession

• A powerful emotion

• An overarching question

• A dramatic scene out of order (in medias res)

The reader should immediately wonder—what the heck is going on here—and why?

How Can I Find My Hook?

If you can remember that the hook is simply a very good, curiosity-sparking question, you’ll pass your first quest on the path to becoming a memoir writer.

Let me lift the lid on this metaphorical cauldron of hooks and stir up some steamy, soul-stirring examples of the secret questions that memoirs ask. Hooks are the invisible threads that pull readers in, even if they don’t consciously realize it. Think of them like the glowing runes beneath your story—they guide everything.

Mysterious Hooky Questions

• What really happened that night?

• Is it betrayal for you to tell the story they tried to bury?

• Can the truth set you free… even if no one believes you?

• Will you ever truly belong?

• What happens when you finally stop chasing someone’s approval?

• How do you speak the truth when your family worships silence?

• Can you reclaim the parts of you lost while trying to be “good”?

• How do you keep going when everything is falling apart?

• Is it possible to find hope in a life shaped by trauma?

• What do you do with a grief that never ends?

• Can you love yourself after being told you were unlovable?

• What does healing really look like?

• What really happened, and why won’t anyone talk about it?

• What happens when your roots and your wings pull in opposite directions?

• What does love look like when you live authentically?

As you can see, I’ve given you a cauldron full of questions—but don’t feel like you have to use one of these.

Your Hook Should Be Unique to Your Story

To find your question, you might need to start with the answer. Ask yourself what your memoir is trying to tell the world—then flip it into a question.

Here’s an example:

In his memoir Spare, Prince Harry wanted the world to know that he would no longer be defined as “the spare”—a title he’d carried since birth.

By reversing that statement, the heart of his memoir becomes a question:

What will it take for someone born into a life of privilege and rigid expectations to break free and live on their own terms?

And what obstacles must he overcome to be seen as a whole, worthy individual, instead of just being the understudy to his older brother’s role as future king?

Now, don’t get discouraged if your hook doesn’t just pop into your head fully formed. All good writing is actually deep thinking. So take your time. Sit with your story. Figure out what your memoir is truly about before you get married to your hook.

What If You Still Can’t Find the Perfect Hook?

Make a list of several possible hooks. Don’t toss anything out until you’ve written far enough into your memoir to truly understand what your story is about. Then go back and make sure the hook you chose leads the reader toward your deepest truth—yes, even the messy, shadowy parts.

Oh—and you can have more than one hook as you write your way through the book. So keep them handy. You might want to use all of them.

Here’s another example from Prince Harry in Spare:

“There were always stories… Balmoral was always simply paradise…”

Then he goes on to describe that some thought it a bit dark and scary, but he only saw what a wonderful place it was—and that he might never have been happier than on the day his mother died (before he got the phone call that changed everything). He wondered if the story of his mother, Princess Diana’s death, was really true—or just a cover-up.

Now Harry’s hook goes even deeper:

What happens to a boy who grows up in the public eye, convinced the greatest loss of his life might be a lie?

This isn’t just juicy gossip—it’s a primal grief, full of denial, fantasy, and provokes the beginning of a lifelong reckoning.

When you finally find your own question, write it down. Circle it. Tape it to your writing desk.

This is your North Star—and your reader’s reason to stay enchanted.

Because that’s your hook. And it’s more powerful than any magic spell.

How to Use Your Hook

Once you’ve found your hook, you might be wondering what to do with it.

Your hook should shimmer at the very beginning of your memoir—ideally within the first few pages. It doesn’t have to be spelled out in neon lights (unless that’s your vibe), but it should whisper to the reader, “Something happened… and you’re going to want to know what.”

But don’t whisper too softly. The hook needs to be a clear question. You can’t reel anyone in with a vague glimmer of something-or-other (yawn). Sometimes, whispers put people to sleep—and that is absolutely not what you want on page one.

You want to stoke the fire in your first paragraph—and keep your reader wide-eyed and wanting more.

Think of the hook as planting a golden seed. The reader doesn’t need to see the whole tree yet. They just need to believe it’s going to grow into something worth watching.

Your job is to weave that question—your hook—through your scenes. Let it build tension. Let it deepen in meaning. And by the end? Let it deliver something that makes the journey worth it.

How to Couch Your Hook

Think of your hook like a furry little pet that needs a cozy place to sit and be the center of attention. You wouldn’t just plop your adorable frog, mouse, rabbit, dog, or cat on a cold bench. You’d give it a cushy sofa, a soft blankie, a few snacks, and maybe even a sparkly collar.

Your hook deserves the same kind of treatment.

Start by painting the setting. Are you indoors or out? City lights or country nights?

Then introduce yourself to the reader. They’ll want to know who this story—and this question—is really about.

Slip your hooky little question into these elements as you set the tone for the story you’re about to tell.

So don’t just find your hook. Work it. Tease it. Let it lead your reader through the dark forest of your story, one breadcrumb at a time.

Here Are More Examples of Memoir Hooks:

Leaving the Saints – Martha Beck

She opens by telling her dying father that she remembers what he did to her as a child.
Plot twist: He might be mentally unable to acknowledge his actions in the past.

What happens when telling your truth means losing your family, your faith, and your place in the world?

Hook level: Nuclear.

Sorry for the Inconvenience – Farah Naz Rishi

“One of the only reasons I took this class was to meet a boy. Preferably a nice Muslim boy my parents would approve of.”

How do you reconcile the life you want with the life expected of you—especially when love and identity are at stake?

Educated – Tara Westover

“I am only seven, but I understand that it is this fact… we don’t go to school.”

What happens to a girl raised by extremist parents, denied formal education, and taught to fear the world—when she dares to seek knowledge anyway?

The Hiding Place – Corrie Ten Boom

A joyful celebration with quiet notes of sorrow. And then:

“Although the party was for Father, he himself took almost no part in it.”

What happens when a Christian family known for kindness is drawn into a nightmare, and decides to fight back?

Who Could Ever Love You – Mary L. Trump

“I exhaled as the needle slid into my arm.”

She’s undergoing ketamine therapy.

What events and family dynamics led Mary Trump to such a profound intervention—and how has her journey shaped her understanding of love and self-worth?

Let this be your takeaway:

Your hook isn’t just a moment. It’s a mystery. A promise. A question with soul.

And it’s the very thing that turns your story into a spell your reader can’t stop wondering about.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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Do you ever wake up in crisis mode? This morning I found myself thinking, “I need to write my truth, but also, the world’s on fire and my cat just threw up on the rug.”

Let’s be real—it’s hard to write these days. Every time I sit down to work on my next memoir, another crisis breaks the news cycle. The world feels like it’s held together by duct tape and lies. So the little gremlin voice in my head goes:

“Why does my story even matter right now?”

But that’s exactly why our stories matter.

Frodo said he wished it had not happened in his time. I wish it weren’t happening in my time. I bet you do too. We didn’t get to choose the time—we can only work with the time we’re given.

As if in response to Frodo, Toni Morrison said:

This is precisely the time when artists go to work—not when everything is fine, but in times of dread. That’s our job! —Toni Morrison

Toni is right. When the world feels like a dumpster fire of bad news, we need the truth-tellers, the memory-keepers, the survivors with pens in their hands and fire in their bellies to write the hard truth.

Writing your memoir isn’t selfish. It’s survival work. It’s soul CPR. It’s saying, “I made it through this awkward, messy, heartbreaking experience—and here’s how.”

You might be writing about the past or current events. Heather Cox Richardson writes Letters From an American every night. She’s writing to someone one hundred years from now to chronicle what’s going on in the United States right now.

She reminds me of that song “The Story of Tonight” from Hamilton—a toast to telling the story now, for those who’ll read it later.

We never know for sure what record we’ll leave behind, but if we don’t write, we won’t leave any record at all. How sad it would be if those in the past had not shared their stories.

You might not be a historian like Heather Cox Richardson or Hamilton, but you still have experiences that you’re going through (or have been through), that are important to document for future readers.

Who would have imagined a girl both deaf and blind could have anything of value to tell the world—and yet, Helen Keller became one of the most profound voices of her time.

When we do the best that we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another. ― Helen Keller

Your story might be the lifeline someone needs when they’re slipping under. It might not fix the world, but it can light the way for someone stumbling through the dark.

So yes, the world might seem to be on fire, but you’ve got a story worth telling—and it might just be the spark someone else needs to keep going.

And if you’re feeling stuck on how to tell it, or wondering where to even begin, I’ve got a little magic up my sleeve.

Framing Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens is my book for folks who want to turn their lived experience into powerful story—not just a list of sad events, but a transformational tale. Think of it as a vitamin drink to get you started on your memoir journey. It’s short and sweet, but full of food for thought to get your memoir juices flowing.

So it’s Memoir Monday. A good day to grab your favorite beverage and take a moment to figure out just one element to move your story forward. You’ll be glad you did. History has its eyes on you.

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It’s strange how you give the people you love so much power over you.
—Tara Westover

At first glance, fundamentalist survivor memoirs might seem like the dark, dystopian cousins of Hallmark Christmas movies. Swap out the cozy small town for an apocalyptic landscape with controlling parents, toss in a hefty dose of fearmongering, and you’ve got endless variations on the same theme—except no two survivors, no two families, and no two belief systems are ever exactly alike.

Tolstoy nailed it:

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
—Leo Tolstoy

When twisted theology runs the show, every decision feels like life or death. Survivors of these worlds grow up under a constant, fictional ticking clock—whether it’s called the apocalypse, the time of trouble, or the desolation—the label doesn’t matter. It’s the looming doom that leaves its mark.

Regardless of denomination, the fundamentalist ingredients rarely change—distrust of the outside world, belief in impending catastrophe, stockpiling supplies, and rejecting medical care. It’s a recipe for isolation and control, all disguised as righteousness.

The themes might repeat, but the details are new. Crack open any of these memoirs, and a unique story unravels every time.

Tara Westover’s Educated checks all the familiar boxes—religious extremism, isolation, end-times prepping—but it ups the ante with a reckless, accident-prone father, a neglectful mother, and an abusive sibling to keep things harrowing. If you’re looking for a memoir packed with blood, broken bones, gaslighting, spiritual manipulation, and a heavy dose of scapegoating, this one delivers.

How Does Educated Align with the Fairytale Lens?

1. A Hero Who Transforms

What sets Tara apart from her parents is her sincerity—her unshakable curiosity in a family where questioning the status quo invites punishment. Long before she found her wings, she was already a hero—a little girl quietly challenging the madness swirling around her. Watching her resist the lies, even as a child, makes her eventual escape all the more rewarding. This isn’t just a story of leaving—it’s a story of transformation, of reclaiming her mind and spirit from the grip of emotional and spiritual control.

2. A Villain Who Neglects or Abuses

These parents choose ignorance at every turn—refusing to see beyond their own warped worldview. Their misadventures could rival the worst Disney villains, except the damage they cause isn’t animated or exaggerated. The wounds they inflict on themselves and their children are all too real.

3. A Fairy Godmother Who Empowers

While most of her family perpetuates the dysfunction, Tara’s oldest brother Tyler is one of the first people who encourages her to pursue an education. He leaves home, goes to college, and plants that initial seed in Tara’s mind—that there’s another way to live.

4. A Kindred Spirit for Companionship

In an isolated family, childhood friends are often limited to siblings. For Tara, her brother Shawn was that friend—protective and playful, taking her on motorcycle rides and making her laugh. They shared real moments of connection, where he treated her with kindness and loyalty. But in a cruel plot twist, that bond unraveled. His protectiveness turned possessive, then violent. The person she once trusted became one of her greatest sources of pain. There’s nothing sadder than realizing your kindred spirit was a mirage.

5. A Life-and-Death Struggle

Tara’s memoir stands out because her entire family stumbles from one life-and-death crisis to the next—most sparked by her father’s impulsiveness and recklessness. Surviving childhood feels like a miracle. But the real battle begins after she leaves home, as Tara fights for her sanity—still navigating the emotional and spiritual abuse her parents continue to dish out.

6. A Three-Act Story

Tara’s memoir naturally falls into a classic three-act structure. First, the childhood stories—full of danger, isolation, and fundamentalist control. Then comes Act Two—leaving home, struggling to blend into society and navigate university life, all while carrying the weight of her upbringing. Finally, the third act zeroes in on her internal battle to know and accept herself, even as her father relentlessly tries to destroy her sense of self, dismissing her accomplishments and autonomy at every turn.

7. Magical or Spiritual Elements

There’s not much here in the way of miracles or magic—perhaps because Tara’s parents have weaponized magical thinking into a life-threatening art form. Any glimmers of faith or wonder are overshadowed by their fanatical beliefs, leaving little room for genuine spirituality.

8. An Ending that Resonates

Anyone who’s dealt with fundamentalist parents will instantly recognize Tara’s struggle. Her attempts to reach, reason with, and educate her narrow-minded parents are both heartbreaking and chilling. It’s hard to imagine people so fiercely committed to ignorance they’d tear down their own daughter simply for outgrowing their small world and daring to think differently. Tara’s real triumph isn’t just her education—it’s how she stands firm in her values, even when reconciliation with her parents proves impossible.

In the end, Educated isn’t just about escaping a dystopian fairytale—it’s proof that even when the wicked spell won’t break, you can still walk away, write your own ending, and live to tell the tale.

What I Love About This Memoir

Tara found her education, but it wasn’t handed to her—it was clawed for, earned inch by inch. And she wears the victory wreath with both dignity and humility.
Tara’s vulnerability in telling her story—even as her parents actively work to discredit her—touched my writer’s heart. I know that girl. I’ve been her.

As much as I admire Tara’s triumph, there were moments I had to physically close the book. The injury scenes are brutal—almost too much to stomach. This raises an important question for any memoirist writing about abuse or violence—how do we tell the truth without making our readers feel like they need to come up for air?

Educated is not for the faint of heart. It will challenge you, anger you, maybe even exhaust you. But by the end, it leaves you with something essential—hope, hard-won and defiant, proving that even in the hardest soil, something resilient can grow.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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Everything in creation has its appointed painter or poet and remains in bondage like the princess in the fairy tale 'til its appropriate liberator comes to set it free.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lurking in the shadows of every miserable childhood is a fairy godmother, waiting to help—like a benevolent stalker of goodwill, minus the creepy factor.

Of course, some people will insist they never had a fairy godmother. Maybe they reject the idea on religious grounds—no room for make-believe. Or maybe they just can’t picture a whimsical little fairy waving a wand and granting them a magical glow-up. Let’s be honest: unless you’re starring on a reality show, the odds of that happening are pretty slim.

But just because you didn’t get a pumpkin carriage and a sparkly ball gown doesn’t mean no one ever gave you a leg up.

Every Good Memoir Has a Fairy Godmother

There’s a saying—“You’re the one you’ve been waiting for.” And sure, taking charge of your own story is crucial, but let’s not pretend we do this life thing solo. Humans aren’t born self-sufficient—we show up tiny, screaming, and completely dependent on others to keep us alive. And even after we’ve mastered walking and talking, we still need a little help now and then.

A fairy godmother doesn’t have to be a sparkly woman with a wand. Sometimes, they show up as a mentor, a teacher, a friend, or even a stranger who gives you just the right tools at the right time. Maybe they offered wisdom, encouragement, or the inspiration to chase your dreams. The point is, none of us achieve our goals without someone sprinkling a little magic dust in our path.

So, the question isn’t whether you had a fairy godmother—it’s more about who they were and how they shaped you.

Maybe you’ve always pictured them as a tiny sprite in a ballgown, but in reality, fairy godmothers come in many forms—benefactor, angel, teacher, guru, guide, mentor. However they appear, their purpose is the same—to empower you at just the right moment.

Their time with you might have been fleeting. Maybe you’ve had more than one. But whether their impact was loud and obvious or subtle and unexpected, their encouragement or advice changed your life.

Don’t you know," she said pityingly, "that everybody’s got a Fairyland of their own?
—P.L. Travers, Mary Poppins

Examples of Fairy Godmothers in Folklore

Throughout folklore, fairy godmothers have long embodied the role of unexpected aid and encouragement. Let’s explore a few well-known examples.

• Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother is the quintessential figure that comes to mind because her reputation precedes her. She didn’t just wave her wand—she threw in a pumpkin coach, couture footwear, and a night out on the town. Talk about a VIP upgrade! Not every fairy godmother provides such accouterments, but maybe you can think of someone who loaned you their car or provided a place to stay.

• Pinocchio’s Blue Fairy guided him toward honesty, helping him become a “real boy.” Because nothing says ‘life lesson’ like your nose doubling as a tree branch. Good thing she was there to steer him toward honesty before he needed a chainsaw. Maybe you’ve encountered someone who encouraged you to embrace authenticity, leading to more genuine relationships.

• Sleeping Beauty’s Three Fairy Godmothers played a pivotal role in her fate. Two fairies gave her beauty and musical talent—pretty standard gifts. But one altered Maleficent’s curse and basically saved her from becoming the original Game of Thrones casualty. Perhaps you’ve had someone in your life who couldn’t erase your hardships but softened the impact of another’s cruelty.

• Grandmother Willow in Pocahontas lent her wisdom and reassurance, encouraging Pocahontas to trust her instincts and find her own path. She’s proof that sometimes the wisest mentor isn’t a wand-wielding fairy but a tree with serious therapist vibes. Can you think of someone who taught you to listen to your inner voice and speak your truth?

Fairy Godmothers Come in Many Forms

Fairy godmothers don’t fit into a single mold. Some are stern and quiet, dishing out wisdom with a raised eyebrow and a cryptic one-liner. Others are eccentric and over-the-top, as if they just downed a double shot of espresso with a Red Bull chaser. Some provide tangible assistance—money, scholarships, or shelter. Others might intervene in a moment of abuse or neglect. Some offer wisdom and guidance, arriving at just the right time, often when you’re on the verge of giving up.

Many fairy godmothers have overcome their own challenges, making them uniquely equipped to guide others. Whatever form they take, their gifts—whether encouragement, wisdom, or resources—empower us to move forward.

Examples of Fairy Godmothers in Memoirs

• Leaving the Saints by Martha Beck —A woman steps out of the shadows to validate Martha, proving that sometimes a fairy godmother is the one who tells you that you’re not crazy.

• The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom —Faith in God served as the ultimate source of empowerment, giving Corrie the strength to survive and share her story.

• Who Could Ever Love You by Mary L. Trump —A camp counselor and a teacher provided the nurturing Mary lacked at home, shaping her love for books and encouraging her self-worth.

• Be Ready When the Luck Happens by Ina Garten —Ina’s grandmother nurtured her love of food and hospitality, planting the seeds for her future career.

• Sorry for the Inconvenience by Farah Naz Rishi —A childhood teacher and an unexpected friend helped Farah navigate trauma and embrace her true self.

• Spare by Prince Harry —A mentor in the African bush gave Harry peace away from paparazzi, showing him the value of solitude and self-discovery.

What If You Can’t Find Your Fairy Godmother?

Maybe you’re wondering if you even had a fairy godmother. Remember fairy godmothers don’t always appear in grand gestures—sometimes, their influence is subtle. Perhaps their impact wasn’t clear until years later.

Look for the Helpers

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.
—Fred Rogers

Fairy godmothers are “helpers,” who often emerge when we need them the most. Their impact may seem small at the time, but in hindsight, they may have altered the course of your life. While memoirs often focus on hardship and trauma, it’s just as important to acknowledge the helpers.

Think back to the turning points in your life. What made you change course? Who offered encouragement, advice, or a critical resource at just the right moment? List all the people who’ve helped you throughout your life. Chances are, you’ve had more than one fairy godmother. You don’t have to write about all of them—just those essential to your story.

Writing About Your Fairy Godmother Can Be a Gift

You’ve claimed your hero status. You’ve unmasked the villain. Now, it’s time to acknowledge your fairy godmother. Because memoirs aren’t just about hardship—they’re about hope. And when you honor the fairy godmothers who’ve sprinkled a little magic into your life, you lighten your own load, add a touch of sparkle to your story, and remind readers that kindness and guidance exist, even in the darkest of times. Recognizing their role is one of the greatest joys of writing a memoir.

NOTE: This is an excerpt from my book How to Frame Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles. —Christopher Reeve

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away (probably your childhood home), you faced challenges, endured hardships, and grew into the person you are today. But do you see yourself as a hero? You should. Because when it comes to writing a memoir, you are the protagonist. The main character. The chosen one. Your story isn’t just about what happened to you—it’s about how you transformed.

And yet, you might be thinking, “But I’m no hero (or shero, if you prefer a little extra flair). What have I done to inspire anyone?” Don’t worry—being a hero isn’t about slaying dragons or wearing a cape (although, if you have one, I fully support it). Heroes come in all forms, and chances are, you’ve been one all along.

As Gandalf wisely said:

I have found that it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love. —J.R.R. Tolkien

Even if you feel like “ordinary folk,” your truth can inspire others. In The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls shows us that it’s okay to have been poor, homeless, or neglected—because as children, those circumstances were never our choice. Just as we don’t blame Cinderella for her rags, we don’t blame Jeannette for the cardboard box she once called a bed. In her memoir, Walls dismantles the stigma around childhood neglect and reminds us that surviving a rough childhood isn’t something to be ashamed of—it’s a triumph.

Jeannette Walls became a hero twice—once for surviving and again for writing about it. By calling things as they were, she freed herself from shame and, in doing so, gave that same gift to every child who grew up without stability.

The first step in writing your memoir is recognizing the hero within. Let’s explore some hero archetypes to help you discover your heroic style.

Hero Archetypes

1. Seeker Hero
If your story is about chasing freedom, truth, justice, love, or belonging, you’re a Seeker. Your readers will join you on your quest for answers, revelations, and maybe a few plot twists. In Leaving the Saints, Martha Beck sought the truth about her childhood, her father, and her church, and uncovered some life-altering secrets along the way.

2. Protector Hero

You stand up for what’s right, defend the vulnerable, and shield others from harm. Think Corrie ten Boom in The Hiding Place, risking everything to protect people during WWII. Whether you’ve shielded a friend from harm, stood up to injustice, or simply kept a sibling’s secret longer than you should have, your role as a protector is worth telling.

3. Healer Hero

Some heroes overcome fear, shame, toxic relationships, or the loss of a loved one. Farah Naz Rishi, in Sorry for the Inconvenience, shares her journey of healing from a narcissistic mother and the devastating loss of her entire family. Sharing how you found peace and forgiveness can inspire your readers to begin their own healing journey.

4. Rebel Hero

If you’ve ever flipped a table (literally or figuratively), challenged the status quo, or walked away from an oppressive system, you’re a Rebel Hero. Prince Harry in Spare redefined his role, defied tradition, and sent the royal tea spilling across the tabloids. If you’ve ever felt like the black sheep, your story will resonate with fellow misfits and changemakers.

5. Innovator Hero

Some heroes create—whether they craft new identities, opportunities, or communities. They rebuild families and society from the wreckage of their past, offering hope for those who feel stuck. Ina Garten, in Be Ready When the Luck Happens, overcame her parents’ expectations and carved out a wildly successful life. If reinvention is your superpower, embrace your role as an Innovator Hero.

6. Witness Hero

Sometimes, the hero’s role is simply to witness life’s complexities and share the truth. This brave act of storytelling validates the experience of others and reminds the reader they’re not alone. Mary Trump, in Too Much and Never Enough, bore witness to a family empire built on narcissism. If you’ve spent a lifetime observing and feel compelled to speak your truth, your perspective can be a powerful force to help society recognize the evils of toxic families.

What Type of Hero Are You?

These are just a few examples of heroes. By portraying any of them, you can create a memoir with rich, layered storytelling that engages and inspires.

You might instantly recognize your role in life, or you might need time to reflect on your struggles and relationships. You may even find that none of the usual labels fit—and that’s okay. The goal of being a hero isn’t to invent a role but to discover the one you’ve already been playing.

The truth is, you’ve been a hero for most of your life. Now, it’s up to you to figure out exactly what that role has been. If you’re unsure right now, don’t worry. Just keep these roles in mind and embrace the idea of seeing yourself as the hero while you piece together the rest of your fairytale.

You're Writing for Your Audience, Not Your Critics

It’s natural to worry that others (especially your ugly step-sister) might challenge your hero status. But remember, your memoir isn’t for them. It’s for the people who will see themselves in your journey. It’s for your kindred spirits, not your critics. Teddy Roosevelt knew a thing or two about critics and penned one of history’s most famous speeches:

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena... —Theodore Roosevelt

The person in the arena is the true hero. When someone questions your truth, just smile sweetly and say, “Well, that’s how I remember it. Feel free to write your own memoir.” (And then sip your mocha like the dignified hero you are.)

From Victim to Hero: The Essential Transformation

Let’s be real—most of us start our stories as victims. Childhood, family dynamics, or life circumstances put us in situations we couldn’t control. But here’s the kicker: a memoir that stays in victim mode becomes a rant, not a transformation.

A hero rises. They learn, adapt, and take back their power. Even Cinderella had to put on the glass slipper and walk out the door.

If your story is just a list of grievances, your readers may feel sympathy—but they won’t feel moved. What inspires people is the moment you take charge of your narrative and become the hero of your own life.

Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we’ll ever do. —Brené Brown

Embracing Your Hero’s Role

Framing your memoir through the Fairytale Lens means embracing every part of yourself—the victim, the survivor, and ultimately, the hero. Your story isn’t just about what happened; it’s about how you rose. The real magic isn’t in the struggle—it’s in the transformation.

Sometimes, the most heroic act is simply becoming yourself.

After enduring abuse from an older brother and forced isolation by her controlling, fanatical parents, Tara Westover broke free to build her own life. But did her family see her as a hero?

In one of the most heart-wrenching scenes of Educated, Tara describes a battle with her father:

If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind. This was the price I was being asked to pay, I understood that now. What my father wanted to cast from me wasn’t a demon: it was me.

Tara’s story reminds us that sometimes, being the hero means refusing to be anyone but yourself.

NOTE: This is an excerpt from How to Frame Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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I was physically afraid of my dad... So I basically spent my entire childhood in my bedroom with the door closed. And I think it was protection. I was trying to keep myself safe. So I had a very lonely childhood. – Ina Garten

Millions of people have been loyal members of the Ina Garten fan club, swooning over her Barefoot Contessa brand for years. Until recently, I wasn’t one of them. I couldn’t have picked her out of a culinary lineup, let alone told you her story. But then I caught part of an interview where she spoke about her strict childhood and being hit by her father—and I froze mid-scroll and ordered her book.

Two weeks and one audiobook later, I’m officially a convert. Not just because of her Beatty’s Chocolate Cake skills (though, yes please) but because of her journey—from neglected child to beloved business mogul. Turns out Ina’s not just dishing up Perfect Roast Chicken—she’s serving a masterclass in resilience.

Her memoir, Be Ready When the Luck Happens—narrated in her own warm, familiar voice—reads like a modern-day fairytale. Just swap out the poison apple for an austere childhood and the wicked stepmother for a stern, emotionally absent mother.

For reasons that may forever baffle, her parents seemed to believe that children didn’t need to play. No Candyland. No candy. No dolls. No Legos. Absolutely no Monopoly. It was all rules—no recess—and not a single lighthearted giggle echoing down the hallways.

Offering neither treats nor comfort, Ina’s mother was consumed with outward appearances and “healthy eating.” Convinced that food should be bland and simple, she refused to cook flavorful meals. And snacks? Nothing more than an apple. Ice cream on a day out in the city? Forget it—joy wasn’t on the menu.

And food wasn’t the only place her mother fell short. When Ina was sick, she was left alone in her room with nothing but a bell to ring if she needed something. Cue the world’s loneliest room service.

But amid all that rigidity, a single bright spot appeared—an uncle’s gift of a tea set. It became Ina’s lifeline. Even though her tea parties were missing the usual teddy bear gossip, she carved out her own small world of ritual and comfort. A tea party for one—no cookies, no company—but a flicker of imagination and quiet escape. That small, solitary joy planted a seed of resilience she’d later draw upon to build a vibrant, nurturing life.

But magic wasn’t entirely absent. Ina’s paternal grandmother, Bessie, was a beacon of warmth. A generous cook, Bessie offered Ina her first real taste of the joy that food and hospitality can bring. From hugs to homemade meals, Bessie’s love whispered what her parents never did—that love could be felt through a plate of something delicious. Those early moments with Bessie laid the groundwork for Ina’s future passion for creating connection and comfort through food.

Using the fairytale lens, we can explore Ina’s memoir as a modern-day fairytale of overcoming adversity and seizing opportunity.

How Does Be Ready When the Luck Happens Align with the Fairytale Lens?

1. A Hero Who Transforms

Despite all that deprivation, Ina’s spirit wasn’t broken. Sharpening her creativity and determination, it only fueled her transformation from overlooked child to culinary queen.

2. A Villain Who Neglects or Abuses

The villains in this story are Ina’s parents, each in their own way. Her father, gregarious to others, was harsh and physically abusive to Ina. He demanded perfection, punishing her for the slightest failure by hitting her and pulling her hair. Her mother—cold and neglectful—didn’t provide the nurturing most mothers offer their children.

3. A Fairy Godmother Who Empowers

Enter Bessie, Ina’s paternal grandmother—the OG Fairy Godmother with a mixing bowl instead of a wand. She hugged, she cooked, and she showed Ina the magic of hospitality. Bessie even brought home a pink dress from Paris, which might as well have been an enchanted robe to young Ina. No pumpkin carriage, but close enough. Those early lessons in love and flavor would go on to become the bedrock of Ina’s empire.

4. A Kindred Spirit for Companionship

Like Rapunzel in a tower, Ina grew up isolated—even from her only sibling. She and her brother marveled as adults that they had never even entered each other’s bedrooms. Fortunately, school provided her with lifelong friends who became her chosen family. Those friendships offered the emotional support she lacked at home and became a continued source of strength throughout her life. Ina’s husband, Jeffrey, whom she met when she was fifteen, became her ultimate kindred spirit.

5. A Life-and-Death Struggle

No dragons here, but something equally terrifying—government bureaucracy. Ina started her career in Washington, working with two U.S. presidents. Impressive on paper, but soul-crushing in reality. Leaving that stable (read: stifling) career to buy a specialty food store—with zero experience—was her leap off the cliff. It wasn’t just a career pivot—it was a defiance of the emotionally deadening life she'd been handed.

6. A Three-Act Story

Her story follows classic fairytale form—Act 1 begins with a childhood ruled by cold, controlling parents. In Act 2, she breaks free, faces uncertainty, and redefines life on her own terms. And in Act 3, her dreams are fulfilled—successful stores, bestselling cookbooks, and a TV career she never sought but nailed anyway.

7. Magical or Spiritual Elements

No fairy dust, but something just as potent—grit, timing, and knowing when to jump at opportunity. Whether it was buying that first store, saying yes to a book deal, or (reluctantly) stepping in front of a camera, Ina trusted her gut and leaned in. The magic? It’s right there in the title—Be Ready When the Luck Happens. Translation—bake the cake, set the table, and keep the door open—you never know when opportunity’s about to knock.

8. An Ending That Resonates

For aspiring entrepreneurs, Ina’s story offers inspiration and practical wisdom. For die-hard fans, it’s full of cozy behind-the-scenes glimpses, celebrity dinner parties, and enough food talk to make you raid your pantry. Ina’s honest, self-effacing voice makes it feel like she’s sitting beside you, sipping something fabulous, telling you that yes—you too can build the life you want.

What I Love About This Memoir

If fairytales teach us anything, it’s that a villain's cruelty often lights a fire in the hero. And in Ina’s case, every bland dinner and lonely bell-ringing sick day only strengthened her resolve to create a different, warmer world.

But here’s the kicker—that lonely little girl grew up to nourish millions. She gave the world the food and comfort she never received—and if that’s not a modern fairytale, I don’t know what is.

NOTE: This is an excerpt from my book How to Frame Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.

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Memoirs are our modern fairy tales.... The autobiographer is faced with the daunting challenge of attempting to understand, forgive, and even love the witch... -Francine Prose, The New York Times Book Review

Once upon a time, Little Red lost their voice. As a survivor of childhood abuse, they were afraid to tell their story. They figured their abuser would accuse them of lying. They also felt shame and worried about what people might think if the truth got out.

Keeping secrets left Little Red without a voice, and even when they thought of speaking up, they didn’t know where to begin.

Then, one day, a fairy godmother blew in with the autumn leaves, carrying a basket of tools. She showed Little Red how to craft their story in a way that would captivate others. Taking the basket of tools, Little Red began to carve their story down to the essentials, and soon, the entire neighborhood came out to listen.

Little Red discovered they were not alone. Others had survived similar nightmares. People were grateful to hear Little Red’s story because it gave them hope and made them feel less alone.

Little Red is the symbol of all who were harmed in the name of love.

Do you have a story to tell? Do you dream of writing a book? Have you ever thought about writing your memoir like a fairy tale?

I’m not suggesting you make stuff up—that wouldn’t be a memoir. Memoirs are about true experiences, but looking through the lens of a fairytale might give you a new perspective.

You don’t need to make stuff up because your story is gold. If you tell it right, it will glow. Besides, the truth is often stranger than fiction. What I’m suggesting is that you borrow the elements from fairy tales to frame your memoir.

If you grew up like Jeanette Walls or Tara Westover in poverty, abuse, or with irresponsible parents, there’s a chance you took on shame due to your parents’ drinking, beating, enslaving, gaslighting, or even scapegoating you. This shame was never yours to wear. Like Cinderella’s old clothes, it was like a tattered hand-me-down that never fit you.

Framing your story through the fairytale lens can help you see that, like Cinderella, you weren’t responsible for all the bad things that happened to you. The fairytale lens removes the stigma and shame heaped on us from our abusers by reminding us that Cinderella and Belle didn’t hang their heads. In fairy tales, shame always points to the abuser where it belongs.

This first and vital lesson about framing your memoir through the fairytale lens might not be a technical writing skill, but survivors need to let go of their shame so they can write their stories. If you have been called the black sheep or you’ve been scapegoated by your family, you might know that you are telling the truth but still feel the shame heaped on you by the narcissist and their flying monkeys.

Casting off the shame is also crucial because family members might challenge your story. It’s essential to get the facts straight in your head before you write your book. This way, when threats come up, you can remember that you are the hero in your story and not the abuser. Your abuser would like to cripple you with their projected shame to prevent you from telling your story.

I have so much more to tell you, but for now, ask yourself these questions about the characters in your memoir.

“If my memoir were a fairytale, who would be the villain, and who would be the hero?

”Who would be my kindred spirit or fairy godmother?

Of course, the members of your family are more than these stereotypes, but as a family member, you’ve been blinded by your proximity to them. To see their true character, you might need to step back from a distance to look at their overall behavior. Remember, people have character arcs, so it’s possible that your abuser has changed since you were a child. It’s still okay to write about the past. They might have changed, but for now, in order to write your memoir, you’ll need to focus on where your story begins.

Step one in writing your memoir as a fairy tale is to look at your story and place the shame where it belongs—in the past, with Cinderella’s rags.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough. All rights reserved.

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10 Spare by Prince Harry

I love my mother country, and I love my family, and I always will. I just wish, at the second darkest moment of my life, they’d both been there for me.
— Prince Harry

Two Perspectives on Spare

When it came out, Prince Harry’s memoir Spare split readers right down the middle. Some cheered—good for him—while others scoffed—how dare he. The book sparked headlines, heated debates, and left plenty for armchair analysis.

Let’s take a moment to address the critics—not because their opinions hold weight (as Teddy Roosevelt warned us—the critics don’t count)—but because these questions echo the challenges every memoir writer, royal or not, must eventually face.

Why Write a Memoir?

Harry opens with a scene straight out of a Shakespearean drama—a tense conversation with his father and brother after Prince Philip’s funeral. They can’t understand why he left the royal castle and moved his family to America. So he wrote his memoir, hoping they’d one day see things through his eyes.

But here’s the truth—memoirs aren’t written to win family approval. Ask any memoir coach and they’ll tell you—memoirs exist for personal clarity, creative expression, and forging connections with others walking similar paths. They’re about setting the record straight, honoring the past, and—most importantly—reclaiming one’s narrative. Rarely does the family rise up to applaud. And unsurprisingly, the Royal Family is no exception.

Addressing the Critics

So what exactly are the criticisms Harry faces—and how do they reflect the concerns of memoir writers everywhere?

“Why Air Dirty Laundry?”

Harry’s life has been tabloid fodder since birth. Lies about him being a skinhead, drug addict, or rehab groupie have sold papers for decades. Spare isn’t about creating drama—it’s about correcting the record. Harry pulls back the curtain on the PR maneuvers orchestrated by his father and stepmother to rehab their images after his mother Diana’s death—often at his expense.

For memoir writers, the takeaway is clear—telling the truth about what really happened isn’t airing dirty laundry. It’s reclaiming the narrative others have tried to hijack.

“Why Not Just Disappear?”

Easy to suggest, but impossible in practice. Harry isn’t some minor royal who can fade into obscurity. The press hounded him from day one, and even in the remotest African bush, he couldn’t fully escape. Writing his memoir became his way to carve out peace, raise awareness about mental health, and connect with people facing similar struggles.

For most memoir writers, disappearing isn’t the goal—it’s about finding peace through self-expression.

“What About Other Perspectives?”

Ah yes—the classic but what will they say. Memoirs aren’t encyclopedias cataloging everyone’s feelings. They’re one person’s lived experience. If others disagree, they’re free to write their own version.

“Won’t This Destroy the Family?”

Let’s get one thing straight—it’s not truth-telling, but abuse, secrecy, and dysfunction that destroy families. Harry’s exposure of toxic patterns mirrors an old Alcoholics Anonymous saying—we are only as sick as our secrets.

You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
— Anne Lamott

“Is It Cringey?”

Sure—some moments, like the infamous frostbite episode before William’s wedding, might make readers squirm. But it’s the awkward, human moments that make a story credible.

“Is Ghostwriting Cheating?”

Harry’s ghostwriter, J.R. Moehringer, may have polished the prose, but the life and experiences? All Harry. Ghostwriters don’t invent—they distill and shape. Whether dictated, scribbled in longhand, or whispered into a phone, the memoir’s heartbeat belongs to its author.

How Spare Aligns with the Fairytale Lens

1. A Hero Who Transforms

A prince born as the spare loses his mother and becomes the family scapegoat—only to risk it all for the woman he loves. It sounds like a fairytale, but this is Harry’s lived experience.

2. A Villain Who Neglects or Abuses

The King of England and his wife are among the villains here, but the paparazzi get top billing for their crime of killing his mother.

3. A Fairy Godmother Who Empowers

Harry had a few good mentors along the way, but chief among them is a friend who offers him advice and solace in the African bush.

4. A Kindred Spirit for Companionship

When Princess Diana was killed, his older brother, Prince William, was his kindred spirit. The two of them alone understood their pain. He also seems close to his cousins.

5. A Life-and-Death Struggle

He may have been born a prince, but Harry’s challenges—grief, mental health battles, family estrangement—are real and resonate as life-or-death struggles.

6. A Three-Act Story

Innocence before his mother’s death, turmoil in adolescence and military service, and transformation through marriage and self-exile—build into a classic three-act story.

7. Magical or Spiritual Elements

This story might be about a prince, but Harry has not lived an enchanted life. There are a few magical moments, though—with his love of Africa and his romance with Meghan.

8. An Ending That Resonates

Spare breaks the royal family’s tradition of silence with a stiff upper lip. It’s nostalgic, poignant, sometimes humorous. It offers the reader an intimate, human glimpse behind the palace gates. Harry’s own audiobook narration, with his charming accent, only deepens that connection.

What I Love About This Memoir

As a lifelong “Royal watcher,” I didn’t feel Harry was asking me to hate his family members—he simply wanted me to listen to his story. He left space for me to root for his brother, Prince William, and the rest of the family—while also applauding his choice to move forward with Meghan.

By telling his story, Harry reminds us—when we stop keeping secrets and start speaking our truth, transformation becomes possible. And that, dear writer, is where the real magic of memoir happens.

NOTE: This is an excerpt from How to Frame Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens.

The Fairytale Lens © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough. All rights reserved.

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