Yesterday I felt the sudden urge to write a whole novel. But I thought, instead of diving into something entirely fictional which could perhaps have me ending up like Brian, Peter Griffin’s dog, who spent years failing to complete his book, I thought, why not write my own autobiography? I don’t think I will lack inspiration writing my own life story.
I told my siblings about it, and my younger brother asked who I would have narrate it.
At first, it sounded like one of those random, unserious questions siblings toss around. But I sat in silence and the more I thought about it, the more it stuck in my mind. I feel most people would jump straight to Morgan Freeman or Viola Davis or some other iconic voice who could make even a grocery list sound profound. But that’s not me.
I thought of my niece. She’s young, vibrant, and incredibly articulate. When she was just seven, which was last year, she read her grandpa’s biography aloud with a confidence and emotional clarity that left every adult in the room stunned. What left me in awe was how she didn’t just read the words but lifted and made them glow. She told the story like she was walking through it. And suddenly, the idea of her narrating my not-so-interesting life felt perfect.
“Why her anyway?” He mused after I had found my voice and told him who. For one, there’s something undeniably sincere about the way children tell stories. They don’t overthink it nor do they filter or worry about sounding wise or impressive. They just speak with a kind of wonder adults often lose.
A child’s narration would take the simple moments of my life, the awkward, the ordinary, the quiet and paint them with warmth, sincerity, and perhaps a little touch of magic. She would probably find humor in moments I thought were dull, tenderness in moments I rushed through, and depth in things I didn’t even realize mattered.
And in a strange way, the contrast between her bright, animated voice and my everyday stories is exactly why it works.
We tend to think autobiographies are only for people who’ve lived loudly. The world leaders, celebrities, revolutionaries, name them. But sometimes the most beautiful stories come from ordinary lives narrated with extraordinary care.
When someone else tells your story, especially someone who loves you, you start to see the value in moments you overlooked especially in areas like relationships that softened you, mistakes that redirected you, the goals you chased and the ones you abandoned, or revived and the quiet decisions that shaped you. There would be many things to look at that suddenly tells you that your life isn’t not interesting but it’s human, layered and real.
So, who would narrate your story, if you were to write one?
For me, it’s my niece, the one who I know for sure effortlessly turns simple sentences into something worth listening to.
So when my younger brother asked me that seemingly random question, I didn’t realize he was inviting me to reimagine my own life through someone else’s eyes.
The narrator you choose reveals how you see your story and how you want it to be remembered.
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