Writing about deeply personal topics is both a challenge and a necessity. As I worked on Redeeming Renato: A Memoir, I found myself confronting painful truths about faith, sexuality, and cultural identity. The process was often unsettling, but I knew that if I wanted to tell my story with authenticity, I had to be willing to write the uncomfortable.
- The challenge of telling hard truths
Memoir writing demands a level of vulnerability that can be terrifying. It forces us to revisit wounds that have barely healed, to put on paper the experiences we’ve spent years trying to make sense of. When I decided to write about my life—growing up in the Philippines, navigating my faith, understanding my sexuality, and seeking a place where I truly belonged—I knew I had to face the ghosts of my past.
The hardest part wasn’t just reliving those memories; it was the fear of what others would think. How would my family react? What would my community say? Would the people from my past recognize themselves and be angry? These questions haunted me, making me hesitate before every revelation.
- Navigating fear and self-doubt
Fear and self-doubt are ever-present companions in the writing process. It’s easy to question whether your story is worth telling or if your experiences matter. But they do. Every story holds the power to connect, heal, and illuminate shared human experiences.
Here’s how I learned to push through the fear:
- Acknowledge the fear but write anyway. Fear is a sign that you’re touching on something meaningful. Use it as fuel rather than a roadblock.
- Write for yourself first. The first draft is for you. Write without worrying about how others will perceive it. The truth can be refined later, but it must first be faced.
- Find a trusted reader. Having someone who understands your journey read your work can provide reassurance and perspective.
- Accept that discomfort is part of the process. Growth comes from discomfort. If you’re too comfortable, you’re probably not being honest enough.
- The power of honesty
Readers can sense when a writer is holding back. The most compelling narratives are those that dare to be honest, even when the truth is messy. In my case, writing about my journey through seminary life, my struggles with faith, and my evolving understanding of my identity meant confronting years of internalized shame and external judgment. Honesty doesn’t mean oversharing or writing for shock value—it means writing what is true. It means not sanitizing our experiences to make them more palatable. It means resisting the urge to make ourselves look better than we were. Writing honestly doesn’t just serve the reader; it serves the writer, allowing us to see our own growth and healing.
- Writing with courage
Courage in writing isn’t about having no fear—it’s about writing despite the fear. Here’s what helped me develop the courage to tell my story:
- Reminding myself why I started. I wrote because I needed to, because my story mattered, and because there are others who might see themselves in my words.
- Letting go of perfection. The truth doesn’t have to be perfectly articulated to be powerful.
- Accepting that not everyone will approve. No matter what you write, someone will take issue with it. That’s okay. Your responsibility is to your truth, not to pleasing everyone.
- Understanding that healing comes from telling. Writing Redeeming Renato has been a cathartic process. Telling my story has allowed me to own it fully, rather than let it own me.
If you’re writing something deeply personal, know that the discomfort is part of the journey. Writing honestly and courageously isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. Your story—however raw, however vulnerable—has the power to connect, to inspire, and to heal.
So, write the uncomfortable. Write with truth. Write with courage. And most importantly, write for yourself first, knowing that in doing so, you just might be writing for someone else too.
Since revising the manuscript five times I’ve decided to rename this memoir to Unpriesting: A Memoir of Faith, Desire and Becoming.
Renato Gandia 