Why Everyone Should Write a Memoir

Write a Memoir

If you haven’t heard (and I can’t image why you wouldn’t have heard, what with all of my sharing about it on social media), I recently sold my memoir, Notes on a Banana: A Memoir of Food, Love, and Manic Depression, to Dey Street Books. The publishing house is an imprint of William Morrow, which is a division of HarperCollins. The book will be published late 2016 or early 2017.

Aside from reveling in all the hoopla, slaps on the back, and drunken evenings of celebration, I’ve learned something so astonishing through the process of committing my story to paper, and I want to share it with you.

In May of this year, when I approached my agent, Joy Tutela, and told her I wanted to put aside writing The Leite’s Culinaria Cookbook and would rather write a memoir, she paused on the phone and asked, “Why?” I explained to her that I was incredibly overwhelmed and touched by the number of deeply emotional comments and emails I received in response to my blog post Bipolar Disorder and Julia Child, My Therapist. Both publicly and privately, people poured out their hearts to me about manic depression: in themselves, their families, their friends. I heard stories of folks who, like me, had gone undiagnosed for decades. People told me, through sobs, of loved ones who had killed themselves because the pain was too much. Others expressed gratitude because the post helped them convince a loved one to go a doctor. I was floored. I didn’t expect this kind of reaction.

That’s when I knew I had to write my story. My whole story.

So for the past six months, I’ve been hunched over my computer writing memories of growing up in Fall River and, later, Swansea, Massachusetts, in a food-obsessed, immigrant Portuguese family. And while food is the theme that stitches the narrative together, also woven into that story are two topics that have tortured me most of my life: bipolar disorder and homosexuality.

As I wrote stories of sitting around dinner tables piled high with food and surrounded by my zany family, periods of black emotional distress, my hysterical and bumbling first sexual encounters with other boys, going to and dropping out of college three times, intrusive suicidal feeling and thoughts, terrifying high and lows of manic depression, and, eventually, the joy of falling in love with The One, I saw the whole of my life. With all of it laid out in front of me in the draft of my book proposal, I understood that this is my reality.

At some point this summer I was crushed when I told my mother one of my fondest memories of early childhood–playing beauty parlor with her while we scarfed down a whole loaf of Sunbeam bread that she’d toasted, buttered, and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon–and she had no recollection of it. She even asked if, perhaps, I had imagined it. But then I remembered all of the memories my niece, Callie, has of our time together that I simply don’t recall. To a child, whose life isn’t yet crammed with decades of experiences, certain memories can take up more emotional real estate because there’s little competition. So it’s no surprise that my wonderful night with my mother would burn bright in my memory, and to her it was just another Saturday night. Or Thursday. Or Tuesday. Hell, there are memories that The One has recounted–some as recent as this year–that I simply can’t recall. Too much overcrowding in my head.

I came to see that these memories–whether remembered by others or not–are the foundation upon which I’ve made thousands and thousands of decisions throughout the years. These stories, these people, these triumphs and failures are what have made me who I am. And the greatest gift of this experience was that I came to feel–in the unshakable center of my being–that regardless of whether I sold the book or not, I matter.

I matter.

I encourage all of you, writers and non-writers alike, to go to your computers or open a blank journal or dictate into your iPhones and record your stories. Find the breadth of your life. Discover the importance of you. Learn that you matter. You matter.

Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have a memoir to write.

Hungry for more? Chow down on these:

  1. Carol Ann Hughes says:

    I for one can not wait to read your memoir. I have enjoyed your posts for many years and appreciate your honesty.

  2. susan bingaman says:

    Oh, David, I’ve finally composed myself after reading this while waiting for my son’s 2-month well-baby check. I don’t know if it’s the lack of meaningful sleep, his impending shots, or just your way with words, but I got all weepy when I read your reminder that we matter. You always manage to pop up with something good when I need a little boost. I cannot wait for this memoir.

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Thank you, Susan. You and Jeremy and little Ben matter. I hope you’re keeping good records for his future. (Never know when there might be a memoirist in the family!)

  3. Susan says:

    David, I applaud your honesty and courage. I believe that nearly everyone I know is personally dealing with, or knows someone close who is dealing with either gender related issues or one of the myriad of mood disorders. It’s much more common than we all think. I lost my vibrant, gifted, creative sister to her undiagnosed bipolar disorder several years ago. And you’re correct; we all have a story to tell. So, a BIG thank you in advance for sharing your story with us! Congratulations and Woo-Hoo!

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Thank you, Susan. I hope the book helps people, as well as delights them. After I wrote my bipolar post, so, so many people shared stories about losing a loved one. It’s so incredibly tragic. We need to have more mental health awareness in the country so these wonderful beings aren’t lost.

  4. Irene says:

    Congratulations, David. I wish you all the best as you recall and write your history.

  5. Carol says:

    Wow, powerful writing……..those simple words “You Matter” mean so much to all of us.
    I also cannot wait for your memoir.
    And your right, we all have a story…….I just may write mine now.
    Keep your words and recipes coming.

    Merry Christmas, Warmly, Carol from Chicago

  6. Patricia Curtis says:

    Way to go with this Memoir David, can’t wait to read it. I have kept notes, memoir for years, I have been told I should write a book. Maybe some day I will put something together for my children. I have it all on a USB stick right now.

  7. Dottie in KS says:

    And this is why we love you.

  8. Beth says:

    Oh, David. I just slapped my hand over my heart and burst into tears. Yes, you matter, my lovely friend. You matter, I matter, we all matter. And everyone of us has a story to tell and we never know how sharing that story may heal others at it heals ourselves. I am so glad that you decided to share your story. I am proud of you for being so brave and honest.

    You might want Joy to broker a promotion with Kleenex or the tissues of your choice.


  9. Beth says:

    Oh, and also:

    My word, you were an adorable child! Right out of central casting!

  10. Bonnie Anderson says:

    Bravo to you, David, thank you for sharing the gift of yourself–all of you–with us. I look forward to reading it and will be cheering you on as I do so!

  11. Monica Bhide says:

    I am so happy to read this, David. I cannot wait to read your book. You know that I adore your writing and I am really looking forward to this. Much love to you.

  12. Hi David,
    Thanks for your candor…..always. Really look forward to your memoir and wish you love + light while you finish and edit and put the finishing touches on it. So important to share your story with the world!
    Imen xx

  13. Quinn says:

    “these memories–whether remembered by others or not–are the foundation upon which I’ve made thousands and thousands of decisions throughout the years”
    So true. Every now and then I realize that something I believe, or something I always do a particular way, is based on a tiny fragment of ancient experience that I can barely recall.
    I’m glad you are feeling centered in your own journey, David. Onward! :)

  14. Debbie says:

    David, I just re-read your earlier May post and am again moved as I was before. Your writing is exceptional and I appreciate very much your authenticity and transparency. You remind me that when we show our vulnerabilities, the effect reaches way beyond ourselves. Thank you. I hope the publication date for your book is sooner vs. later.

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Debbie, thank you for your kind words. I’m still flabbergasted at the reaction to that blog post. People say what I did was courageous, but all I did was tell the truth. And it seems as if it resonated with people. I hope it continues to, so that it may help people in some small way.

  15. Renee says:

    Do you know why you’re what my grandma would call “good people,” David? Because you don’t think telling a truth requires extraordinary courage in a culture where many people think telling the truth is either terrifying or optional.

    There is a wonderful book called Storycatcher by Christina Baldwin. In it, she refers to oral (and written) storytelling as fundamental to being human and integral to society on all levels because everyone has a unique and important voice with which to pass on their experiences.

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Why, thank you, Renee. I truly don’t think telling the truth is optional. Of course, this will be my version of the truth, how I see it. And neither do I see it as brave. It just is.

  16. Ricka says:

    Our best to you and yours this holiday season. All sorts of good things wished for you this coming year.

  17. Patricia Curtis says:

    Every time a hand reaches out
    To help another….that is Christmas
    Every time someone puts anger aside
    And strives for understanding
    That is Christmas

    Every time people forget their differences
    And realize their love for each other
    That is Christmas

    May this Christmas bring us
    Closer to the spirit of human understanding
    Closer to the blessing of peace!

    “Merry Christmas” everyone and the best in 2015.

    Thanks for all the recipes.


  18. David, that is wonderful news! Of course, the writing itself has already done its work in you, but it will be interesting to see what the experience of having the book out there and being read will do for you. One of the things that makes life so interesting is seeing the growth that unfolds from our actions.

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Thanks, Jean. Well, the writing is very much in the early stages. I sold the proposal, which is the idea for the book. Now is the hard part!! The book won’t come out for about two years.

  19. Hi David, this is the first time that I am reading this blog. I just found your page today, i commented in one that spoke of writing memoirs. I had no idea that you suffered from bipolar disorder, as do i. I just wanted to thank you for your encouragement, I believe I matter. I believe my story can touch and help many. There are so many things I want to do in this second chance of life that the Lord blessed me with. Keep on being awesome, you are an inspiration to those of us who are just getting their start. I wish you all of GOD’S best!

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Welcome, Allison. Thank you for your kind words. I wish you much success with your second chance–I certainly understand how deeply grateful we can feel when given such a chance. March on, head high!

  20. Elizabeth says:

    David – Thank you for taking the time to create this blog. You seem to have crawled into my head to experience how I have felt for as long as I can remember. Your narration of your life echoes the struggles I have had.

    Finding your site was divine direction. I don’t even remember which site I was on that directed me here. But I am oh so happy (yes, truly happy!) I did stumble over. What I do remember was searching for a bread recipe as I created a shopping list. My black dog (depression) has been barking and tackling me without relief lately and my favorite method of soothing it is carbohydrates. Of course I can justify homemade bread because I have to work to create it. Kneading the dough is as soothing as the first warm-butter-dripping-down-my-fingers slice is. It quiets the black dog’s best mate, a hamster who has one of those exercise wheels in my head where he spins my story of self doubt and worthlessness that are my constant companions. Wouldn’t you know that little guy is the skinniest hamster ever? He can cover a marathon distance twice some days.

    You have given me comfort and hope that I will also find a course of management that is successful. Along with understanding that the black dog and his hamster friend may come back for visits I do not have to allow them to reside with me permanently.

    I look forward to coming back here for doses of hope and inspiration. Quinoa, really?? I have also subscribed to daily updates as I want to know immediately when your memoir is available, preferably in an e-reader version. But I will take however I can get it.

    I feel as though I have made a new friend, and I really like that feeling.

    • David Leite David Leite says:

      Elizabeth, the Black Dog, and the Hamster–what a menagerie we carry with us when we are depressed, right? Just as that famous It Gets Better Project, assures gay youth things improve, I can assure you that this, too, gets better.

      It does. In time your black dog will want to go out and chase rabbits and leave you to yourself, and your hamster will get fat and and prefer to sit guzzling microbrewery beers and watching HBO than endlessly riding that exercise wheel. I promise, new friend.

  21. Elizabeth says:

    David – Thank you for this video link. The It Gets Better Project is Outstanding! Nothing like seeing how it is from someone else’s shoes. Perspective is Awesome.

    I have a dear friend who just happens to be gay. While I could never explain why, I have always loved the feeling of safety and security I experience being around him. Now I believe it is because he has always accepted me as I am, depressed or not. That feeling that no one can know I am depressed is huge. Its a 200-lb gorilla on my back (add another animal to the menagerie. No wonder life has always felt like a juggling act in a 3 ring circus). As snarky as this sounds, it is what it is. Accept it and move forward. That doesn’t seem quite so daunting anymore.

    While I can appreciate the need to assuage the manic, antsy, ADD-ish feelings of trying to stay out of the writing studio, please know that you were NOT unproductive today. You have helped me out tremendously and thank you seems so inadequate. I am forever grateful.

    Seriously, don’t you just love the Vita-Mix?

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