between chapters

“You are no longer who you were, but not yet who you will be. You are becoming.” — Brianna Wiest

If you’re new here, paid subscribers receive Story Work exercises every Sunday night at 8 pm et. Story Work: Field Notes on Self-Discovery and Reclaiming Your Narrative is the name of my new book (which is currently available for preorder!) The term describes my signature process of reflecting, reclaiming, and reimagining the stories of our lives. It involves looking at your life experiences as creative material that you have the power to shape. For the next few weeks, our story work theme is Life in Transition. All subscribers can read the free preview below.

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Hi everyone,

I hope the missives I send out each week offer you a small creative refuge. An intentional pause in the midst of everything happening in your life and in the world.

I hope they speak to the part of you that’s quietly asking:

How do I continue with my everyday affairs when there is so much fear, suffering, and uncertainty in the world? What can I do to help myself and others through this season? What medicine does my spirit need to keep choosing courage in the midst of this struggle? How do I hold onto hope and possibility?

In my work, I often talk about building a life where your daily habits and creative efforts align with your core values and guiding principles.

This kind of alignment means that no matter what is happening in the world, you're showing up from your most authentic self. You're offering your gifts, abilities, and resources, not just when things are good, but especially when they are not.

This kind of alignment calls for creative thinking because it opens our minds and expands our perspectives, and this is where hope takes root.

Hope passed from one person to another becomes a chain of possibility that generates new ideas, solutions, remedies, and breakthroughs.

Creativity keeps the lights on and keeps hope alive. What we can’t do is lose hope—because that’s when fear wins.

No matter what, a creative practice is a form of resistance and a source of resilience.

Keep giving yourself space to feel it all—the fear, the grief, the rage, and the overwhelm…

Along with the joy, the love, the beauty, and the passion...

Honor all of it. Let yourself feel deeply and live fully.

Whether we like it or not, this is the moment in time we’re living through, and the question is:

How can we stay present within this experience, even as the world changes in ways we can’t control?

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Before we dive into this week’s story work exercise, some quick updates:

The free Writing the Layers workshop will take place on Saturday, July 5 at 7 pm et, instead of our usual first Friday. This change is just for the month of July. You can register to join us here. This is open to all subscribers.

The Creative Courage Writing Intensive early enrollment period has ended, but regular registration is now open through July 3. Payment plans are available during this phase. (If you’re new here, this intensive is a 12-week storytelling workshop that takes a holistic look at the creative process including the stories, values, and desires that fuel it, and the fears, doubts and obstacles that hinder it.

Also, thank you to the person who pointed out the error on the sales page about the Creative Courage — Boost offering. My apologies if it caused any confusion! As always, feel free to reach out if you have questions.

Okay, let’s get into this week’s story work exercise.

weekly story work exercise

This is the second post of our new theme, Life in Transition. You can find other recent themes here. You can find all the archives here.

Photo by Suad Kamardeen on Unsplash

You are on your way.

You’re in the part of the story where you, the main character, have realized some truths and learned some lessons. You are proud of how far you’ve come, thankful for where you are, and hopeful about where you’re going.

But sometimes it feels like you’ve been in this spot for too long. Like you are stuck between chapters. The last chapter has ended, but the next one hasn’t started.

Being in a liminal space—the space between no longer and not yet—can feel disorienting and strange, but also deeply transformative.

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