I once heard an avowed nonbeliever admit: “The thing about us atheists is, we have no story.”
Contrast that with The Greatest Story Ever Told.
I’m not being facetious. To be grounded in Christ is to be grounded in the ongoing, ever-unfolding paradigm of life, death, and resurrection.
It’s to believe, as contemplative poet Gerard Manley Hopkins put it in “God’s Grandeur”: “There lives the dearest deepness fresh down things.”
That doesn’t mean a happy ending; it means an arduous pilgrimage, the kind of course St. Paul set for himself, a path strewn with rocks, sometimes excruciatingly lonely, but shot through with moments of humor, wonder, and astonishment.
“What it was like, what happened, what it’s like now” is the story template in 12-step circles. I can’t think of a simpler or more succinct way to state the basic elements.
I’ve been writing my own story since shortly after getting sober in 1987. Writing it down made me see that I’d experienced a death to my identity as a person whose organizing principle was alcohol, that I’d undergone a psychic change, that in being welcomed back to the human table, I’d been the recipient of unmerited grace.
When I read the Gospels straight through, in moments snatched from my job as a Beverly Hills lawyer in the early ’90s, my heart burned within me, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus.
Here were the events of my own life! The Prodigal Son/Daughter. Mary Magdalene (she who is forgiven much, loves much). The paralytic by the pool at Bethsaida (Pick up your mat and walk!). The worker who came late to the vineyard; Lazarus, rotting in the tomb, but raised from the dead.
I came into the Church in 1996, the beginning of a new story. Ever since, I’ve been writing it down, in all its stumbling tragicomedy. Ever since, one of the main ways I continue to find my way to God is through literature — great novels, plays, poetry — as well as other forms of art.
Over time, I longed to transmit my enthusiasm, to help other people write their own stories. I began giving online writing workshops. I gave in-person retreats.
A few years ago, through a friend of a friend, I was invited to give a weeklong Memoir Writing Workshop at Kylemore Abbey in Connemara, Ireland, site of both a working Benedictine convent abbey and the Kylemore Global Center: an organization devoted to furthering Notre Dame’s educational, intellectual, and spiritual pursuits in Ireland.
The former home of Mitchell Henry, a landed gentry Englishman, the 13,000-acre property boasts a castle, hiking trails, a waterfall, a Gothic chapel, a mausoleum, a Victorian walled garden, and an unmatched view of a huge lake and the Connemara Hills.
I’ve hosted the Memoir Writing Workshop for two years running and will do so again on Sept. 6-12, 2026.
The participants almost universally agree that the week gives rise to so much more than enhanced writing skills. Being among a group of people who, chances are, you may never see again generates an unanticipated freedom.
We meet in a third-floor room with wall-length plate-glass windows. We sleep, eat, and live under the same roof for six intense days. A trust and camaraderie are built. We read aloud from our work. People share wounds, triumphs, and joys they may never before have shared with anyone.
I’m thrilled to report that I’ll be hosting the same kind of workshop at our own St. Andrew’s Abbey in Valyermo, California, this coming summer, on July 6-10, 2026. The Workshop is entitled “The Flame Within: Writing Your Life.” You can find more info and register here or by searching the St. Andrew’s Abbey Retreats page.
Some of us will just be starting out. Some of us, having reached a certain age, will be feeling the urge to write our life stories for our children and grandchildren.
The questions as we contemplate writing a memoir tend to go like this:
How do I start? How do I organize my material? How do I overcome the voices in my head?
How do I shape the events of my life into a story? Was I walking with God in those dark places? How do I make time for writing when I have so many other responsibilities?
The format will include talks, prompts, and plenty of quiet writing time. We’ll learn tips and techniques to help us structure our stories, envision our narrative arcs, and adapt our life events into a coherent whole.
We’ll focus as well on enlarging our hearts, horizons, and souls. We’ll read from our works in progress, give and receive feedback if desired, and share our questions, challenges, and triumphs.
Every human being has an authentic voice and a unique story. Let’s get together — human to human — and start telling them.
