In my Freelance Writing class this week, we’re working on the “art of living” article — writing that seeks to inspire or help readers live life just a little better based on our ability to share our own joys and struggles.

Our text puts it this way: “The key to writing art-of-living articles is to write an article that will make a difference in someone’s life—to provide the reader with something to hold on to and take away into her own life.” —Handbook of Magazine Article Writing

To really make this work, however, that piece needs to provide transparency into the life of the author. Readers want writers to be real, to dive deep, to share their stories.

But it doesn’t need to be dark or traumatic. Sometimes the sweetest and most inspirational pieces of writing come from memories, moments, minute details of life that draw us back and make us think. To give my students that opportunity, I gave them a handout with their lives (so far) divided into segments. They were to write down five or six memories from sets of years: 0-5, 6-10 (elementary school), 11-14 (junior high), 15-18 (high school), and 18+ (college). As they began to scribble, I explained that the memories that came quickly are worth thinking about further. There’s a reason that those bubble to the top.

Their job then was to choose one of those memories and describe it. That gets the scaffolding in place. Now to get a solid art-of-living piece, to get to something that will resonate with our readers, we need to go deeper.

So we considered some questions. I asked them to close their eyes and go back to that memory. What was going on in their lives at that time, in their family life, in the world? Where were they living? Who else was part of their lives at the time? What else do they see, hear, feel, smell, taste? As they looked at that memory in a bigger picture and considered why that particular memory surfaced at all, they can write a story with heart. They can begin to see how that minor thing matters, and in turn, help their readers put themselves into their own similar story.

As if to make me take my own advice, today, a sweet college student dressed as a bunny rabbit stopped into my office and let me draw some Halloween candy from her outstretched pumpkin basket. I drew out a Dum Dum.

In that moment, I saw my Grandpa Chaffee’s face. He had been a rural mail carrier in the little town of Wattsburg, PA, and its environs. He drove his massive Oldsmobile Toronado to deliver mail — and there was always a big bag of Dum Dums on his front seat. The children on his route knew he’d give them a sucker. Even though our family visited him only once a year or so, whenever I got into that enormous car to ride with him, I drew a Dum Dum from the bag and stuck it in my mouth, sucking happily as we zipped down twisty dirt roads.

That Dum Dum sent me back. The joy of our traveling military family always returning to deep extended-family roots in western PA. The legacy of love and faith I’ve been privileged to receive. The deep loss of grandparents and now both of my parents. Changes as decades pass; foundations that remain solid. Heaven’s certainty. A loving family that shaped who I am. Sweet memories and sweet candy.

It’s just a Dum Dum, but now there’s something there worth writing. Something to help readers also think about how life changes yet some foundations are worth holding onto and passing on. It was just a Dum Dum, but it’s so much more.

What simple things in your life have a depth of meaning? What memories rise to the surface? How might you write about them?