Lang hears only snatches of this journey of mine or others in the class.That’s because, as a teacher, he refrains from telling us what to write, even though he may be tempted to do that on occasion. He seems to want the stories to come from some place deep inside ourselves. Rather, he suggests ideas for getting in touch with our memories to see what we might discover. In fact, Discovery could be another title for this course.

I am reminded of Jesus when he sent his disciples off on their first missionary journey. “Take nothing with you,” he instructs them. No purse. No provisions. Only trust that what you need will come to you.

In writing, this could translate into something like this: at the beginning leave behind any preconceived ideas of what you want to say. See what comes to you as you write. Honor the story by listening to it. Literally. Read it out loud to see how it sounds to you. Trust that it will tell itself just the way it should in the end.

His suggestions include exercises that make us groan at first, for instance, drawing a symbol of what our memoir looks like, telling what the symbol means to me, then seeing what it has to say to another person. For this he spills out a bag of colored pens and pencils for us to choose and get started. Afterwards, even the groaners, surprised, decide this is a valuable way to access our writing on a deeper level that speaks to others as well as ourselves.

Lang, Ph.D, corporate trainer, life work coach, motivational speaker and poet has published a book, Life Work, as well as some of his poetry. So when he gives us tips about effective writing, we tend to listen to him.

It’s hard to tell whether it’s his relaxed attitude that puts everyone at ease, or the special mix of persons who have joined this class, but on the first night he has us laughing , then feeling this might be a safe place to bare some of our secrets, first to each other, later, to the world. Not that Lang is aiming for sensationalism. Far from it. It’s more like how has what has happened to me shaped my beliefs, my life? Who are the key players in my life story? What have I learned from it all?

Right off, the first night, he gives us homework: Find a published memoir, he says, any one you choose, and read it. That will give us ideas of how accomplished writers have tackled this genre, and we might do well to imitate them.

Along with that, Lang tells us to consider (1) my goal(s) for writing a memoir, (2) who is my audience, and (3) what are my themes. Detail is important, he stresses, because it can make your story come alive. Write down the physical characteristics of the people in your story. Did grandpa have hair growing out of his nose, and if so, what, as a child did you think about that? What did he usually wear? Say? Now write about an event involving that character.

Leonard Lang

It’s easy to see that Lang is leading us through a careful process that he doesn’t want us to rush. Before you ever put pen to paper, think about your story: Why are you telling it? What’s the tone going to be, funny? tragic? angry? Decide where the story begins and ends. How can you make it come alive for those who read it?

After all that, WRITE! Get it all out. Do it in a way that shows, doesn¹t tell, so that both you and the reader are surprised at the outcome.

The next step is editing, which could be the most important. You might decide at this point to cut out big chunks of what you’ve written. Lang compares this step to creating something large and maybe unwieldy, compared to a small, perfect jewel.

Build up your theme, Lang says, but cut back on repetitions, clichés, and unnecessary details. Keep a balance between the two. Use metaphors that are linked somehow to the context and highlight the theme.

And then, there’s the finishing. Put you story away (ideally for 2 weeks) before the final editing. Try to be brave and show it to a trusted friend to see if what you want to communicate has come across the page, but don¹t look for perfection.

Next comes revision, which, Lang says, is primarily about knowing what the story wants.

Lastly, Lang says, “Don’t hold on too long. Like a child growing up, at some moment, your story is ready to be released on its own into the world - the hands and hearts of your audiences.”

Jo Welch-Youngren worked with Harvey Egan in the early days of St. Joan of Arc. At that time she, Cy and Joan Speltz, Nancy Anderson, Darlene Arbuckle, Ferry Deslauriers, and John McGowan made up the staff. We all pitched in and did everything that needed doing and had a ball every day. Jo’s first husband, Jack Welch, was buried from St. Joan’s in 1980. Later she married Dave Youngren, moved to New Mexico, then returned to her roots. Now she and Dave sit on the left side center at the 9:00 o’clock Mass on Sundays and love every minute of it. Jo can be reached at JYoundave@aol.com.

On our last night of class, Lang gives this advice: keep writing (most of us have already pledged to do this); practice with a sense of play and try laughing at yourself (this will keep us grounded, and teach us not to take ourselves too seriously); remember there are lots of possibilities and choices, along with chances we can take with our writing.

Nancy Lynch says, "Joy is being a wife, Mom of fourteen, eight with varying disabilities and living at home, Grandma of thirteen, and Great Grandma of three. Serenity is listening and watching the ocean, alone, at our home on Maui. Passion is friends, photography, reading, swimming and children." Nancy can be reached at nalynch@aol.com.

I used to tell my kids to “Be Adventurers!” when I wanted them to eat strange (to them) vegetables. I have an idea that Leonard Lang is telling us the same thing. We leave on our last Thursday night together, emboldened by all we’ve learned, I think, to do this very thing.