Hey guys — welcome back!
Last summer, I walked into my first memoir-writing class at Brown Pre-College with no idea what to expect. I thought we’d spend the weeks analyzing famous writers, maybe drafting a few personal essays. What I didn’t expect was that those hours around a seminar table would change the way I think about speaking in front of an audience.
One book we read in class, Marion Roach Smith’s The Memoir Project, had a line that stuck with me: “Be hospitable.” She wasn’t talking about setting out cookies or making your readers a cup of tea. She meant that every story you tell should welcome others in. Instead of shutting people out with too many private details or inside jokes, you create a space where they can see themselves in your experience. That idea became a bridge between writing and public speaking for me.
At first, memoir and public speaking seemed like two separate worlds: one private, the other public; one silent and written, the other spoken aloud. But the more I wrote about my own experiences and listened to my classmates share theirs, the more I realized they were built on the same foundations: voice, vulnerability, structure, and detail.
1. Voice Is Everything
In memoir, your voice is what makes the story yours. It’s not just what happened, but how you tell it — the rhythm, the perspective, the honesty between the lines. Public speaking works the same way. An audience doesn’t connect with perfect rhetoric; they connect with a voice that feels real. I used to think speaking meant sounding polished and impressive. Memoir taught me that it means sounding like yourself.
2. Vulnerability Builds Bridges
Good memoirs don’t pretend. They share the awkward, messy, sometimes painful parts of life. And that’s what makes them powerful. In a similar way, a speech becomes stronger when you allow your audience to see the cracks. I remember moments in debate and student parliament where I admitted nerves or uncertainty — and those ended up being the times when people came up afterward to say they felt the most connected. Vulnerability, I learned, isn’t weakness. It’s an invitation.
3. Story Is Structure
In class, we studied how a memoir needs a “red thread” — a movement from beginning to turning point to reflection. Speeches need the same. Facts and arguments alone don’t stay with people; stories do. Memoir writing gave me a better sense of how to lead an audience from start to finish, not with bullet points, but with a journey.
4. Details Make the Difference
One of my professor’s constant reminders was: “Zoom in.” A memoir isn’t about saying “I was nervous.” It’s about describing the way your hand shook as you reached for the doorknob. Those small, sensory details are what make a story feel alive. Now, when I speak, I try to bring in those same images — a sound, a place, a feeling — because one vivid detail is often more powerful than a whole string of abstract sentences.
5. Be Hospitable
This was my favorite lesson from The Memoir Project: never write (or speak) as if your audience owes you their attention. Instead, invite them in. Hospitality in writing means shaping your story so that it’s not only about you, but also about the universal thread that connects to them. Hospitality in public speaking means remembering that your job is to serve the audience — not just to prove something, but to leave them with something.
A Final Reflection
Looking back, memoir class wasn’t just about writing; it reshaped the way I express myself. I came in hoping to learn how to put my life on paper. I left with a deeper understanding of how to bring my life into the room — whether through words written or words spoken!
Because in the end, every speech is, in its own way, a kind of memoir. Each time we speak, we’re telling the story of who we are, and inviting others to step into it.
Thanks for reading — and thanks for being part of this journey with me. Until next time!
Filippo
Braunstorming 