Journals into Memoirs?

[Ashley Vieau]

I have wrote in journals since I have been 14 years old. There have beem times that I jave gone months without writing. Then there have been times that I didn't miss a day without writing. I have wanted to turm these journals into something, maybe like a memoir or a novel of some sort. Has anyone else done this? I'm curious how difficult it was to turn personal moments into a novel that would be interesting enough for another person to read.

[MFleisher]

I do occasionally like to read memoirs and using your journals may be a good starting point for writing a memoir. You have the moments and emotions in your journal from when they happened which would make writing the memoir easier. The memoir should be your story. Perhaps you can focus on defining moments for you instead of trying to incorporate every aspect of your journal into the memoir. Focus on your development, events that happened that shaped you, and important people in your life.

[moderntimes]

When you say "journals" I take it to mean "dear diary" things, not professionally published literary journals in the literary world, right?

What is the purpose of turning these diaries into a book? That's the question you must ask. Not "Should I?" but "Why should I?"

In other words, what has happened to you which is so unique that others might wish to read about them? If this sounds harsh, it's a question which any author should ask: "Do I have something special to tell?"

The answer to this will help you get started. It will enable you to view your personal experiences from a dispassionate perspective and judge their merits. Not merits on behalf of your own life, but merits on a literary basis. Such as, "If I were to submit my memoirs to a professional publisher, Random House or whomever, what about my life and thoughts would catch their interest?"

Once you have made this analysis, you can then begin to better restructure your diaries so as to make them amenable and engaging for other people, your prospective readership.