The story gripped me: a bright and talented child struggling to assert herself against narcissistic parents, become the master of her own identity. Except every few minutes she would backtrack and say how her parents weren’t actually that bad, they had a lot of good qualities, she was grateful for the life they had given her…
When she talked like this, her body language became stiff and awkward, her voice a bit robotic.
It was like she was flipping between two personalities: the good daughter she had been trained to be, and the bad daughter, the rebel daughter, she wanted and needed to be.
I heard myself say, “You need to write like the bad daughter.”
Not just in a memoir, but when you write (fiction -- not sure it works the same way with, say, a newspaper article).