The Self-Scare of Writing About Your Life (And Why It's Worth It)

Writing about your life is a self-scare—you have to look at it before you can share it. On the courage memoir takes, and the safe space that holds it.

Every year I gift myself a gorgeous Perfectly Planned planner from Carrie & Co. I've bought one for myself every year since they started making them. Wherever I am in the world, I wait for the end of the year and the arrival of my box from Carrie & Co.

This year, in the 2026 planner, there's a new section in the monthly pages called Self-SCARE. It sits just after "how do you want to feel this month" and "what is one self-care thing you'll do this month."

It asks you to identify one self-scare thing you'll do during the month. The point is to get you out of your comfort zone, to push a few edges, to give yourself a healthy, stretchy, heart-racing scare.

When "scary" stops being scary

When I reach this section during my monthly planning, I usually chuckle. I can immediately rattle off a list of edges I've got coming up. I think: Honestly—how much more can I do? I'm already traveling, leaving everything behind, dropping into a new country, a new language, setting up a temporary life somewhere new. Such is the life of a nomad.

But this month I had to stop myself.

Is this lifestyle really a stretch at this point? Yes, it's always met with a little trepidation, and yes, it can be uncomfortable to consistently step into the unknown—but is it actually a self-scare? It's become rather commonplace. So this month, even as I pick up and leave Scotland for a while, I think I need to find myself a new scare. 😦

Writing about your life is a self-scare

And as I sit with what my own next stretch should be, I think about you—and about how writing about your life can be quite the self-SCARE.

It can feel so vulnerable to share your story. But before you ever hand a piece of your story to someone else, you have to look at it yourself.

That's the part people don't anticipate: the time you spend in reflection and introspection, and how scary that can feel. It's uncomfortable to look at your life, your emotions, your reactions, your relationships, your results—and to see them in a more objective light. To examine what you've experienced and offer yourself enough understanding and grace that you can eventually share those parts of yourself with others through your writing.

Why it feels like therapy (and why that's the point)

Our authors joke that I often feel like a therapist. Erin Gorrie was once on a call with me as she drove to her actual therapy appointment—and by the time she arrived, she said she didn't even feel like she needed to go inside.

I'm certainly not qualified to offer therapy in any traditional sense. But the safe relationship I build with our authors is therapeutic. We get incredibly close through the process of creating their books—months of video calls and voice notes—and so much healing happens along the way. For our authors, and for me, as a result of their vulnerability.

So if you're writing this month, or thinking about writing, know this: I honor the scary aspect of it. I honor the vulnerability and the courage it takes to write about your life.

And if you'd like me alongside you through all of it—let me know.

I'm here.

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Writing your story is a self-scare worth taking. We hold the space that makes it safe to look, and then to share. If you'd like a publisher who honors the courage it takes, come and say hello.

I write notes like this every week, for authors all over the world who are doing the brave, vulnerable work of putting their lives on the page. My list gets them first, before anywhere else. If you'd like a little company in your inbox each week, sign up here. Michelle Ireland, founder of Soul Spark Publishing