on Jane Friedman site:

I recently spoke with a writer working on her husband’s memoir. He’d written a rough, short draft of his life story, and she planned to flesh out the scenes, expand the story, and revise in his voice, for a book for their family and community. She asked me if she’d still benefit from my class for memoirists, since she was writing someone else’s story.

Yes, she would, I assured her. Because when I teach, I separate the author in front of me from the character in the book. We talk about “the narrator,” or “Younger-Susie” or “Memoir-You” when examining the dramatic arc of the book, what scenes belong, and where choices, actions and feelings can be stronger on the page. The person on the page isn’t the person writing the book.

Memoir isn’t therapy, we agreed. While writing our story can be therapeutic, the process of revising and publishing for other readers is a craft—the therapy part should be over.

A few hours after the conversation, I realized: The person on the page can’t be the person writing the book. Because if the memoir is any good, if your life has changed enough to write about and share with others, you aren’t that person anymore.

Let’s look at this in terms of structure.