The Enchanted Hook
Writing Your Memoir Through the Fairytale Lens 1
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.
Spot on, Cheri. Without that hook I soon get bored and start having buyers remorse.