Permission: The New Memoirist and the Courage to Create

by Elissa Altman

Who am I to tell my story? How do writers write the story they are most compelled to tell, when they have been shamed into staying silent? How do we grant ourselves permission to write it when we have been told—by family, by culture, by history—that it is not ours to tell?


Without fail, almost every memoirist – new or experienced – has faced dire questions of permission and story there is something that they want to write about, that they need to write about. they can’t. They have been warned not to; they might be paralyzed with shame, threatened with shunning, chastened into silence. If they wrote what they have been warned against, they would vaporize on the spot, even if what they need to write about has defined them and their worldviews.


But what if they did? What if you did?


After writing three critically-acclaimed memoirs and a decade of teaching memoir workshops at every level, Elissa Altman has helped students face the elephant in every writer’s how to craft the stories that are most central to them despite the voices that have told them not to. Permission is a transparent exploration of what happened when Altman and many other great writers took that leap and wrote the story they’d always needed to share. This is a master course, not only on how to craft memoir, but how to begin and keep going when you’ve been told you can’t, and how to how to give yourself permission to transcend the fear that keeps vital stories from being written.



We are the storytelling species; Permission will inspire and guide all creatives to a place of transformation, of freedom from the constraints of shame and fear in all their forms, and to the understanding and recognition of the ethics of story-making, art-making, truth-telling, and creative soul-saving.

Genres: Memoir, Writing, Nonfiction, Crafts, Audiobook, Grief

232 pages, Hardcover

Published March 11, 2025

About the author

Elissa Altman is the author of Poor Man’s Feast: A Love Story of Comfort, Desire, and the Art of Simple Cooking and the James Beard Award–winning blog of the same name and Treyf: My Life as an Unorthodox Outlaw. Her work has appeared in O: The Oprah Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, The Guardian, The New York Times, Tin House, The Rumpus, Dame Magazine, Krista Tippet's On Being, Tablet, The Forward, LitHub, Saveur, and The Washington Post, where her column, Feeding My Mother, ran for a year. Her work has been anthologized in Best Food Writing six times. A finalist for the Frank McCourt Memoir Prize, Altman has taught the craft of memoir at The Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, The Loft Literary Center, 1440 Multiversity, and Ireland’s Literature and Larder Program, and has appeared live onstage at TEDx and The Public, on Heritage Radio, and on NPR’s The Splendid Table and All Things Considered. She lives in Connecticut with her family.
elissaaltman.com Facebook.com/elissa.altman Twitter: @ElissaAltman Instagram: @ elissa_altman

Reviews

[ArtbyKarla Gaudier · Rating 3 out of 5]

In *Permission* by Elissa Altman delivers a deeply moving and necessary exploration of the emotional and ethical complexities of storytelling. With the precision of a seasoned memoirist and the warmth of a trusted mentor, Altman invites writers both aspiring and experienced to confront one of the most paralyzing barriers in the creative process: understanding the journey of writing than the end of it.

Every writer, at some point, faces the daunting question of whether they have the right to tell their story. Through personal insight and years of teaching experience, Altman delves into the fear, shame, and societal constraints that silence so many voices before they ever reach the page. Her approach is both practical and deeply compassionate, providing not only the encouragement to write but also the tools to navigate the emotional and ethical responsibilities that come with storytelling.

The pacing of *Permission* is deliberate and reflective, mirroring the process of self-discovery that memoir writing demands. Rather than rushing through instructions or quick fixes, Altman guides readers with a steady hand, allowing them to sit with the discomfort of their own doubts and fears. This measured approach makes the book not only instructive but also profoundly affirming and it respects the reader’s personal journey as much as it does the craft of writing itself.

Altman’s prose is lyrical yet clear, effortlessly blending memoir with practical advice. Her writing has an intimate quality, as if she is speaking directly to the reader, urging them forward with every page. She does not sugarcoat the struggles of writing, nor does she minimize the risks of telling the stories we are often warned against. Instead, she offers a path through the uncertainty, reminding writers that their stories matter, not despite the resistance they face, but because of it.

*Permission* is more than a guide to memoir writing; it is a manifesto for creative courage. It challenges writers to embrace their truths and to understand that storytelling is not just an act of self-expression but of self-liberation. For anyone who has ever hesitated to put their story into words, this book is a vital companion, one that doesn’t just give permission, but demands it.

[Alice · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book not only speaks to the author’s personal journey of discovery as a writer, but it allows us to take our own journey; perhaps a story that needs to be told with or without permission. The book draws us in and encourages us to find truth in the writing process while inspiring us to mine the depths of personal history. This is a memoir for all creatives ready to dive into the real work with respect for the craft and the permission we give ourselves.
Everyone should read this book.

[Anna · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’m not entirely sure who Elissa Altman is writing for here, and that’s on me. I have studied the mechanics of life-writing across text, image, and film in my doctoral work. Reading from a more comfortable, less academic seat, I want something else from these types of writing. On the one hand, Permission: The New Memoirist and the Courage to Create could be a thinly veiled apologia, the author justifying her storytelling choices and claiming space in a genre she clearly feels conflicted about; on the other, it’s a memoir that explores different modes of life-writing, the role of the author as the carrier of many truths, story ownership, and craft. If it’s the former, an article would have sufficed—the examples chosen to over-explain her permission are rather one-sided; if it’s the latter, once you strip away the self-defence layer, the “practical advice” is familiar, almost pedestrian—keep notebooks and journals and know that they are different, read widely, don’t fall in the perfectionist trap, and more importantly be aware of the ethical and moral tensions.

I’m not sure this “new memoirist” is doing something new here either. Formally, it reads like a self-help book. Tonally, it has a conversational feel to it, although the rhetorical manoeuvres cannot hide how repetitive it all is, especially if you read it in one sitting, like I did.

Also, she may or may not have sinned in my eyes by picking on my girl, Sally Mann.

BUT more importantly, I want to know who that “important writer [who] works out her rage at colleagues, former friends, and family members on the page: her work is lyrical and she is well known, so she gets away with it.” I have a few theories.

[cass krug · Rating 4 out of 5]

this was an enjoyable read - almost a blend of the abandoners by begoña gomez urzaiz and body work by melissa febos. the description had me thinking that the book would be more instructional and might not appeal to me as a non-writer, but i like how she blends personal/family experience with writing wisdom. if you enjoy hearing writers talk about writing, i think you’ll get something out of this.

i haven’t read any of altman’s other memoirs, but in this book, she examines the fallout from her revealing in a previous memoir that her paternal grandmother abandoned the family almost 100 years ago. upon publication of the single paragraph within the memoir mentioning the incident, she was completely cut off by the rest of her family members, who still hold a lot of shame surrounding the situation and didn’t believe it was altman’s place to tell that story.

using that event as a catalyst, altman explores the concept of permission in memoir writing: who gets to tell what stories, how to weigh the risks of writing about certain subjects, and how to avoid writing for revenge, among other topics. the chapters were quick and engaging - she expertly weaves in her family history and you can see why she is now a teacher of the craft of memoir. even though i don’t have any writing aspirations, the book made me think differently about using journaling to freely work through my thoughts. i can see this being very inspiring and helpful for someone with legitimate writing aspirations.

thank you to godine and netgalley for the e-arc - the book is out today!

“They are also emblematic of the mutability of memory and the fact that the truth can be filtered and extruded by individual circumstance and experience, and still be very real to every person it touches, be it the same truth, or different ones.”

[Ruth · Rating 5 out of 5]

The right book at the right time. I really appreciate so much of what Altman has put into words here about engaging in a creative life and dealing with questions around giving yourself permission not only to tell your own story but also to write at all. Will be reading again.

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to #NetGalley and Godine for the chance to preview Permission.

[Rhonda Lomazow · Rating 5 out of 5]

Permission by Elissa Altman is a raw intimate guide to writing your memoir.She shares her personal story of writing her memoir and being cut off by her family and the emotional whirlwind it caused her.She shares stories of authors experiencing the pain of the same type of family separation do to secrets revealed ?This is a multi layered fascinating book that kept me turning the pages. Thanks #abrams books for my arc.

[Cassandre · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you've ever wondered what the stories that have shaped your life are worth but found yourself fumbling in the dark, never finding enough clarity to create harnessing the power they hold, Permission may just be the cheerleader you need in your corner to start penning down words, using colour, giving shape. The journey Elissa Altman takes her readers on is part memoir, part encouragement to shake whatever's been holding them back so far.

Through seventeen short chapters, Altman takes fellow artists on a journey that covers the main obstructing thematics to creating from a place of story ownership. Themes include shame, relying on Brené Brown's definition (citing Brown multiple times), family secrets & taboo, intent (hint: revenge is not a valid motivation), risk (of becoming an outcast, first and foremost) and more. Her journey starts with the fall-out that came from revealing the not-so-secret family secret in a memoir, that of her grandmother abandoning her children for several years when they were young. As Altman revisits her life, both as a child herself, bearing the weight of her father's obsessive abandonment issues, a memoirist revealing what the rest of her family wanted to keep hidden, a memoir workshop teacher, writer, friend and spouse, she pens down a simple and easy route to keep those wanting to create from a place of personal narrative on the right path, that is to say: forward.

Movement is a core theme of Permission. Altman encourages her readers to be productive no matter what, to keep writing or creating despite what society and the laws of family structure dictate (unsurprisingly, silence). She relies on a lot of quotes and I-once-heards, sometimes verging on being a little too heavy on the name-dropping (even when she can't name the actual best-selling author she's mentioning, noting that her readers would surely know of this person were they to be given their name) which was less to my personal taste, feeling too pop psy at times. I enjoyed her actual journey as a daughter-niece-cousin memoirist the most.

Ultimately, Permission is a permission slip to create from pain, secrecy, truth despite the invisible shackles we feel weighing us down and holding us back. It is not an essay that will give you they keys to creating but rather point to the lock of the door you must find a way to open within yourself. There are no writing prompts, no decision trees, no multiple choice answer quizzes that will figure out autobiographical narrative ownership for the readers. But for anyone looking for a short and energising read to start creating, this may be the right book to open the door ajar.

Quiet is the peace that you find when, after a day or a decade, a week or a month, you allow yourself to crack open the story that you must tell in order to find its pulsing heart, and to devote yourself to it and the crafting of it as art.

* Many thanks to NetGalley & Godine for an advanced reader copy in exchange for my honest review. *

[Nicole Perkins · Rating 5 out of 5]

In "Permission," memoirist Elissa Altman asks “Who has the right to tell a family’s story? Who “owns” a family’s history? Do we need permission to tell our story?”
Altman says, “The writing of memoir is often fraught; our friends, colleagues, families, entire cultures turn writers into pariahs for what we create, for who we are, for how we dare take ownership of our own stories.” She also writes “Beyond time, space, and money to write, permission is the single biggest hurdle that the creative—new or accomplished—faces, and often over the most mundane of issues.”
I am not a memoirist; most of what I write is completely made up, influenced by true events perhaps, but very loosely so. I do not feel the desire to tell true stories, and I have never considered what my family’s reaction would be if I chose to do so. I expect there would be anger, as Altman experienced. I am sure I would be told I was wrong, lying, or accused of fabricating everything for attention. Others would relish the attention it would bring, being of the mindset that adverse attention is better than lack of attention. I do not think I would be disowned as Altman was; I think I would be allowed to remain so people could be disgusted with me.
Altman reminds her students, “No one owns the right to craft our story but us, but we must remember that the complex work of memoir demands that we also write with clarity, compassion, and ambiguity, which allows the reader to determine their own response to the story.”
Elissa Altman’s "Permission" is an outstanding presentation of memoir, writing, self-exploration, and how one experiences (and suffers from) a family’s reaction to a secret that needs to be told. I will be supplementing my e-copy with a print edition for both reference and the reminder that sometimes being true to oneself means standing alone in the face of disapproval and still telling my story.

https://nicolekperkins.com/2025/03/10...

[Kym · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have been a fan of Elissa Altman’s since reading her first memoir, Poor Man’s Feast. I always seek out her writing, be it her books, essays, or Substack articles, so I was thrilled to be able to read an ARC copy of her soon-to-be-released memoir, Permission: the New Memoirist and the Courage to Create, to be published in early March.

Part memoir and part loving encouragement, Permission is a powerful, insightful, gift to writers and, in fact, to all creative souls merely trying to carve out time to practice their art. The writing is sensitive, deeply-personal, and inspiring. I appreciate Elissa’s willingness to share her own tender experience, both in her teaching workshops and in her own memoirs.

I would have to say that memoirists . . . are the most obvious audience for this book. But Elissa’s words reach far beyond that particular group of artists to serve anyone trying to live a creative life. I am not a memoirist myself, although I do a fair amount of writing. I’m also a garden designer, a watercolorist, and a mixed media artist. I found many, many nuggets of practical advice and encouragement for giving myself permission to step into my personal brand of creative life right there, within the pages of this gem of a book. Some sections of the book resonated with me (as a non-memoirist) more than others, but I found relatable advice and practical tips throughout. In fact, I’m looking forward to picking up a copy of this book when it’s published so I can highlight and write in the margins to my heart's content.

Additionally, the cover is gorgeous.

Thank you to NetGalley and Godine for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on March 11, 2025.

4.5 stars, rounded up to 5.

[Sav · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Permission" by Elissa Altman is much more than just a memoir; it's a profound reflection on the writing journey itself. The book captures the struggles, triumphs, and emotional complexities of writing a personal story that may not be universally accepted—whether or not permission is granted to share it. Altman weaves her own narrative with the challenges she faced in writing her memoir and the painful consequences, particularly the rift it caused with her family.

What makes this book so compelling is its layered exploration of the craft of writing. Altman does not just tell her story; she invites readers, especially creatives, to embark on their own journey. She encourages us to confront our personal histories, to dive deep into our own truths, and to honor the writing process with the respect it deserves. This book is a permission slip for anyone who has ever struggled to share their story—both personally and professionally.

Through heartfelt anecdotes and the stories of other authors who have faced similar familial challenges, Altman provides a roadmap for finding the courage to write the stories we need to tell, even when they come at a personal cost. "Permission" is a beautifully layered, raw, and intimate look at the memoir-writing process and the emotional toll that often comes with it.

If you're a writer, a creative, or simply someone interested in the intersection of personal history and the craft of storytelling, this is a must-read.

Giving it decent 3 ⭐.

Thank you NetGalley for the ARC copy!

[Laurie Mozian · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book.

The writing is articulate and beautiful . I am particularly impressed with the way the author crafts her sentences— they are sumptuous. I feel like I am traveling with her through her thought processes as she explains the point she is making. If a sentence is supposed to be a complete thought her sentences give us the backstory of how that thought came to be and why it is relevant to the topic at hand. She manages to do this artfully.

Yes , this is a memoir —but more specifically a memoir about the fallout from a previous memoir. In an earlier book, the author chose to reveal a family secret , that she did realize was a secret. That revelation upended her life and caused her family to abandon her with the admonition that: she did not have permission to share "their” story . Here in this memoir/writers guide she mines the topic of permission.

Ultimately, the author makes a powerful point: if a story affects you—if it changes your life or shapes how you see the world—it becomes your story. And the only permission you need to tell it is your own.

This book is quietly brilliant. I will put this on the shelf, not to be passed on —at least until I am finished writing my memoir and maybe not even then.

[Rachael · Rating 5 out of 5]

I appreciate this book about one important aspect of writing difficult and complicated family stories: that of permission. As memoirists, we don't need permission to write family stories but this can cause hard feelings. This book tells a writer how to grapple with that.

It's difficult to find honest stories of memoirists whose published words have resulted in family discord. Even in the excellent book Family Trouble, edited by Joy Castro, most of the essays have happy endings, where family discord (if any) was ultimately healed.

Altman experienced severe family rupture; she was cut off from most family after she wrote about her grandmother's years when she abandoned her family and the resulting generational trauma. So she is well suited to discuss this concept of permission.

The entire book is a pep talk for writers who are nervous about writing family stories. I will be sharing it with students and am happy to add another excellent book to my resource list.

[Michele Dawson Haber · Rating 5 out of 5]

I received an Advanced Reader Copy of this extraordinary book on the craft of memoir writing. A teacher of memoir writing and an author of three memoirs, Altman shares all that she has learned navigating the tumultuous path of writing about family. Nearly every memoirist will wrestle with the question, "Is this my story to tell?" For this writer, Permission provided the guidance I desperately needed. Altman has shored me up. Her certainty, despite experiencing an unexpected and heartbreaking disownment from her family because she chose to tell her truth, has fortified me. In Permission I now have the vocabulary, insight, and tools to move forward with the telling of my own story, which, like any other memoirist's, includes others.

[Prof Lit · Rating 4 out of 5]

I stumbled upon this book and selected it b/c it deals with memoir. As someone who just lost both of her parents within 16 months of each other, I am naturally processing memories, deciding what to share and what to retain, and of course, as a writer, I'm also wondering whether to make those memories more public. Do I write the ways my parents succeeded and failed? Altman's work as a writing teacher and her more private life as a writer aligns with my own career and personal life, so I felt a kinship with her. The only reason I gave it four stars is that I found some of her transparency and vulnerability cutting too close to the bone for me in my current state of grieving. But that is my emotional backpack to carry, not hers.

[Amanda Boyer · Rating 5 out of 5]

You don't need permission to create. But, then why do so many of us wait until we have it?

I really enjoyed this book. It's beautiful, it's brave. The author was cut off from her family after publishing a memoir that aired a "dirty" family secret about her late grandmother. We risk so much when we make the choice to write and share, but does that risk mean it's not worth it? Does that risk mean we shouldn't do it?

Reading this book came at the perfect time for me. I myself have been in a creative slump, but this book has helped me to burst through some of the walls I erected.

I recommend this book for artists, writers, and anyone who wants to create art.

[BK Jackson · Rating 5 out of 5]

In Permission: The New Memoirist and the Courage to Create, Elissa Altman addresses questions that virtually all creative nonfiction writers ask themselves: Who am I to tell this story? What right do I have to write about others? Can I go on if I’ve been told not to?—concerns that stop many writers and other artists cold and prevent them from revealing their stories and telling their truths. Altman’s deep inquiry into the ownership of stories offers writers clarity and inspires in them the courage to show up in their art authentically. It’s a book that belongs on the shelves of all memoir writers—all artists, really.

[Kelly Brill · Rating 4 out of 5]

Who do stories belong to? Which version of the story is true? What happens when one writes one's own version of a story and makes enemies of one's friends and relatives? Elissa Altman explores these questions in depth, drawing on her own experience as a memoirist. She told a family story that she thought everyone knew...only to discover, upon publication, that everyone else in her family had buried the story and wanted it kept underground. She lost all of her beloved relatives. As someone working on some memoir-type essays, I found this book incredibly useful, but I think most people would appreciate the nuances of Altman's excellent writing.

[Valerie Gordon · Rating 5 out of 5]

“We are drawn to the creative act - of making meaning out of chaos - and the most ideal creative experience that any of us ever have is art-making-as-compulsion. The necessity to create takes over. And yet we must still face the naysayers, and we have to make a decision. Do we create, or don’t we?”

“To ignore the command is to turn away grace. To accept it is a profound act of humanity, no matter what it brings with it.”

Thank you to author Elissa Altman for this reminder that all we need is to give ourselves a permission to create. And a bit of a kick in the pants.

[Kristen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great book and very inspiring. There were so many truth bombs and quotable passages, whether or not you have ever considered writing memoir. The audiobook was very well-done as well.

"Quiet the noise around you; soften its pitch. Our deepest stories are our best teachers. Let the weapons of the weak--the poison, the nagging, the gossip--burn themselves to ashy. Cast them to the wind. Take back the permission to succeed. Make it yours."

"We need to divorce ourselves from the potential outcome and just create."

[Becca B · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you Elissa. For so many golden nuggets, for ownership, for your parting chapter, Noli Temere and in particular for that funny chapter on Corsicana. I unfortunately have had the pleasure of spending time there.
I come from a family of so many secrets and of course I married a man with even more skeletons in his family's closet.
I can't give it 5 stars because I need more information on your father and his momma who left.

[Kimberlee · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book made some good points but those points were repeated over and over again in slightly nuanced ways. It felt like the author was settling some scores— both for being ostracized for telling stories that were hers to tell, and for others telling her stories that were not theirs to repeat. I felt like I was panning for gold—there were some gold nuggets here but I had to dig through some dirt to get there.

[Jonathan Greene · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thought the word permission was a bit more vague in terms of giving the creative the license to write, but in this memoir on memoirs it was more about the permission to tell other people’s stories if they were partly your story. It’s well-written and interesting, but not necessarily the springboard to action that I hoped it would be. It’s more memoir than instruction on memoir.

[Jenni Ritchie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Made me think....this book examines the stories we tell and the ethical dilemma of whether we should be telling them. It also addresses what holds us back from saying what we need to say, and the importance of artistic outlets of any kind.

The one drawback is that the author beats the dead horse of a particular story all throughout the book until I was really tired of hearing it.

[Maureen Stanton · Rating 4 out of 5]

An important book for anyone writing memoir, addressing the perennial question of whose story is it, can I tell my story, how do I protect privacy and relationships and still feel empowered to own and share my story. The writing is lovely, too.

[Deb Benfield · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had no idea what I was getting into when I started reading this book. I will be reading it again with my journal beside me this time. This book landed like a giant prompt to start digging into my stories. Powerful invitation to a more committed writing practice.

[Brooke Dilling · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not just a book for folks interested in writing a memoir. Great for anyone trying to make sense of their own story and committed to living a creative life.

[Chantelle Constable · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was good... it's really a memoir itself and not a craft book... but it was good.

[Ta0paipai · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well thought out, well written, but slightly repetitive.

[Nick Dorman · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pleasantly surprised and made me think a bit.