Truth vs. Honesty in Memoir: Why the Difference Matters

Marina Aris
Jan 13, 2021
2 min read

The Memoirist's Dilemma

Every memoir writer faces the same question: Am I telling the truth?

But here's what I've learned after years of writing and revising my own memoir—we're asking the wrong question. The real question is: Am I being honest?

Truth Is Elusive, Honesty Is Accessible

Phillip Lopate said it perfectly:

"We may not ever be in possession of the truth, but at least as nonfiction writers we can try to be honest as our courage permits. Honest to the world of facts outside ourselves, honest in reporting what we actually felt and did, and finally, honest about our own confusions and doubts."

This distinction changed everything for me.

When I write memoir, I focus on what happened—the events I remember, the conversations I can reconstruct, the timeline as I lived it. But truth? Truth can be elusive and subjective. My mother would tell a different version. My son might remember things I've forgotten. Even my own memory shifts with time and perspective.

Honesty, though? Honesty is something I can control.

What Honesty Looks Like in Memoir

Honesty in memoir means:

Emotional truth over factual perfection: What you felt matters more than whether the kitchen was blue or green
Acknowledging uncertainty: "I think," "I remember," "as I understood it then"
Revealing your confusions and doubts: The messy, complicated feelings alongside the clear ones
Showing how experiences impacted you: Not just what happened, but how you were changed
Admitting when memory fails: "I don't remember what she said, but I remember how small I felt"

When I write about true events, I include everything I remember. But what makes the writing compelling isn't the factual accuracy—it's how honestly I convey what I felt and how those experiences impacted me.

The Thin Line Between Truth and Honesty

Both truth and memory are open for debate. What defines a valid, unaltered memory? What defines the truth?

These are philosophical questions that memoir writers wrestle with constantly.

But here's what I've come to believe: readers aren't looking for court transcripts. They're looking for emotional honesty.

They want to know:

How did this feel?
What did you learn?
How did you survive?
What does it mean?

You can be factually accurate and emotionally dishonest. You can also have imperfect memory and be deeply, powerfully honest.

Permission to Be Human

If you're writing memoir and paralyzed by the fear of getting details wrong, I want to give you permission:

You don't have to remember everything perfectly. You just have to be honest about what you do remember and how it shaped you.

Your memoir isn't a legal document. It's a window into your experience, your growth, your understanding of your own life. That's what makes it valuable.