How My Writing Changed From Journalist to Memoirist

When I started working on Starry Field: A Memoir of Lost History almost 25 years ago, I was fresh out of journalism school, working as the assistant literary editor at The Nation magazine. At the time, I conceived of it as a work of investigative journalism because that’s what I knew how to write.

(5 Different Forms of Journalism.)

The book centers on my family’s search for information about my paternal grandfather, Lee Chul Ha, who was imprisoned by the Japanese during Korea’s colonial era as a teenager and died soon after his release, when my father was a toddler. After his death, my grandmother never spoke about him. She destroyed all of his papers and books in the early days of the Korean War. In 2000, I traveled to Korea to locate the originals of his prison records. This search forms the narrative arc of the book.

When I started this journey, I knew that while I could write about my search for information about my grandfather, I had no idea how to insert myself into the story other than as the narrator/observer. I needed to inject the “I” in memoir and make myself the central character. This type of writing required skills I didn’t learn in journalism school.

Here are some steps I took in becoming a memoir writer.

I read a lot of novels (and memoirs too).

I’ve always preferred to read fiction because I love the feeling of immersing myself in a world of an author’s making. I wanted the reader to have that immersive feeling reading Starry Field. As I struggled to find my writing voice, I began reading novels with an eye to structure, point of view, dialogue, scenes, and narrative arc. 

I also read memoirs that employed novelistic methods, such as Angela’s Ashes, Liar’s Club, Fierce Attachments, and later, The Best We Could Do, In the Dream House, Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls, and so many others. I re-read classics, including War and Peace, The Portrait of a Lady, The Age of Innocence. 

I dug deep into the oeuvres of writers like William Trevor, Paula Fox, Gish Jen, Jennifer Egan, and Ian McEwan. His Black Dogs, was especially relevant, since it explores the personal consequences of political ideas, namely Communism, which is a theme of Starry Field.

I took generative writing workshops.

After writing a draft of the book I wasn’t happy with, I put it away. My agent left the business. Life happened. I met my life partner, got married, had kids. 

When my son went to preschool, I enrolled in a generative writing workshop. The moderator gave us prompts to write from and asked that our pens not leave the paper. After our allotted writing time was over, we could choose to say aloud what we had written and get feedback from the group on what resonated with them. What came out my hand, and then my mouth, was eventually a new draft of my book. 

Putting my manuscript away allowed me to digest all the research I had done, as well as my grandmother’s oral history, and what emerged was the emotional arc of the book—told in scene with dialogue.

I gave myself time.

It took me years, actually decades, to realize why I was writing my memoir. From the beginning, I knew that I had a story of a lifetime in the uncovering of the facts of my forgotten grandfather’s life in an era that many knew nothing about. 

What I didn’t know is how I fit into the story and why I had devoted years of my life in pursuit. It wasn’t until I had kids that I knew why I wanted to write this book. I wanted them to grow up knowing about their family’s history, which is something I never had. 

I guess I could have written a journalistic book 20 years ago, but I know now that it wouldn’t have been the book I wanted it to be. Sometimes you need to give yourself the time to know why you are writing something.

Check out Margaret Juhae Lee’s Starry Field here:

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I honed my craft.

This goes along with the generative workshops, but I practiced memoir writing in a focused way. When my kids were babies, I hired a babysitter once a week so I could attend the generative workshop. 

Once they were older, I made writing dates with friends to shape what I wrote in the workshop and fashion them into chapters. I read craft books like Vivian Gornick’s The Situation and the Story, and realized that while I had the situation down pat, I needed to work on the actual story. I joined a writing group that met once a month. 

Later, I applied to juried workshops and conferences—like Tin House, Writer’s Hotel—and writing residencies, where I could take a week or two away from my family and work to devote solely to my writing. I also took writing classes, mostly online, through places like Corporeal Writing, and found community there.

I found a writing community.

Writing is a solitary and often lonely endeavor, and we all need people to help get us through the process. Through classes, workshops and residencies, I met fellow writers and formed a community. 

Most of my community building has occurred online, since I have been a caretaker for both sporty children and aging elders and don’t have the bandwidth to meet in-person. I also joined various Facebook groups of memoir writers and writers trying to navigate the publishing process. 

Currently, I’m on a text chain with a group of 2024 debut authors, which has proved invaluable. We are able to experience our unique publishing journeys together. 

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