Memoir Writing

Lat night I started a memoir writing class. It's through the Guthrie, and excellent theater in Minneapolis, two hours per class, one night a week for 4 weeks. I have been so excited since I signed up for it three weeks ago. The sad thing is, only 2 other people showed up. I guess it's the economy...the class is $100...because I've seen great turnouts at other Guthrie classes. At first, I thought it was only myself and another guy. He's a man in his sixties, pretty athletic, and a little full of himself. There are things that I like about him, but the instructor and I were both at our wits' end after him saying he would not be interested in sharing his work or critiquing others' work...I mean, it's a workshop class! What else is there? Then a girl showed up, my age or a little younger, and she's really cool and I'll stay in the class for her. I think the instructor was very worried, then felt better when she showed up. And now she's offered to share her work too, so it will be like a class of four, which still isn't ideal for a workshop but is tons better than two.

I really like the instructor. I think she seems like a great person, but possibly not the most qualified to teach memoir writing per se. She has a self-published book of poems, and the one she read last night I really liked. So I think it will be fun, but also bizarre.

The point of this, of course, is to turn my random scramblings about A into some coherent whole, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. It's just that all the memories and emotions get overwhelming sometimes, and I think writing about it all will be very cathartic. And over the years I have tried and done a piece here and there, but now I think it's time to really dig in and deal with this.