reasons for writing
“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” —Maya Angelou
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 Reasons for Writing. This post is temporarily available to all subscribers.
Before we get into the new story work theme, I want to remind you that the Creative Courage Writing Intensive Self-Study is open for enrollment until the end of July. This offering is perfect if you prefer to reflect and process on your own, move at your own pace, and create without the pressure of a group setting.
I also have two workshops coming up soon:
July 27. Writing as a Restorative Practice via The Writer’s Center // 1 - 4 pm et
August 3. Writing with Vulnerability and Creative Courage via Writing Workshops // 12 - 3 pm et
If you are interested in learning more about my workshops and coaching offerings, you can sign up here to receive notifications.
weekly story work exercise
Our theme for the next few weeks is Reasons for Writing. You can find other recent themes here. You can find all the archives here.
Writers, why do you write?
And for those of you who don’t consider yourselves writers, have you thought about what reasons you might have for writing?
Have you considered that, no matter who you are:
We write because something inside us wants to be heard.
Because there are stories we haven’t had the space or the courage to tell.
Because even when we don’t have answers, writing helps us live our questions with more honesty.
We are now less than four months away from the publication of my new book, Story Work. A book about the transformative power of writing to help us awaken our creativity and reclaim our stories.
Story Work is for writers and non-writers alike.
It’s born from my passion for creating tools that allow anyone—regardless of skill, identity, or background— to use the written word to improve the quality of their lives and express more of who they truly are.
I turned to writing during a time in my life when I felt lost, standing at a crossroads with no clear way forward. I had no outlet for what I would later rediscover as my favorite part of myself: the creative joy, innocence, and expressive freedom that once made me feel fully alive.
Over time, that part of me had been suppressed by this phantom pressure to fit in, to be agreeable, to survive by becoming who I thought I needed to be.
In Story Work, I share that journey and offer reflections and writing exercises to help others rediscover the parts they left behind.
This book isn’t about becoming a writer in the traditional sense. It’s about using writing as a tool to connect more deeply with your own truth.
It’s about getting your thoughts out of your head and recognizing the wisdom hidden inside your memories and experiences, especially the ones that have been clouded by shame.
The work I most cherish as a writer and coach and student of life—is offering the questions, embodying the vulnerability, and creating spaces where people feel safe to be curious and honest with themselves. Safe enough to admit there is something inside that wants to be heard.
Which brings me back to our next story work theme: Reasons for Writing.
For the next few weeks, I’ll be exploring some of the many reasons we write, and how these reasons belong to all of us, not just those who identify as writers.
The overwhelmed caregiver who doesn’t think they have time to write, but might find that five minutes with a journal helps them breathe again.
The high-powered executive under the pressure of constant decisions, who needs a place to release their uncertainty or recharge their imagination.
The community leader carrying the needs and hopes of the people they represent, who writes to process the weight of responsibility and the desire for change.
The parent lying awake at night, worried about a child they can’t protect from everything, who needs a place to put that fear.
The burned-out teacher. The friend who’s always holding space for others. The creative soul who has silenced their truths and stories to survive, to please, to serve.
The seeker who’s in the middle of a transition and doesn’t know what’s next.
All of us.
When you do your own story work, you are able to navigate adversity from a rooted, resourced place, and are better able to show up for others. Not from depletion, but from alignment and overflow.
Many of us only know how to live in survival mode. Jumping from one crisis to the next. Unable to heal or find peace because the world is not a peaceful place.
I know what that heaviness feels like.
I have a special place in my heart for people who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders because they don’t know how to put it down. Because somewhere along the way, they were taught that love means self-denial, that strength means silence, and that being good means playing small.
Growing up, I often doubted my own reality, and therefore, my natural way of being always seemed wrong. I felt like everyone else knew something I didn’t, like I missed out on some secret instructions for how to be in the world.
I kept parts of myself hidden because when I shared too much—especially the parts of me that were tender, bright, or expressive—people often pulled away, or looked at me different, like I’d done something wrong. So I learned to tone myself down to be accepted.
But the page doesn’t judge. It accepts all of us.
It allows us to express things we struggle to say out loud. It gives shape to questions, beliefs, dreams, fears, and memories. It makes space for the abstract and the mysterious, the whimsy and fantasy. It helps us process the world around us and hold space for the world within.
Writing takes the energy of a thought, emotion, or experience and gives it form and meaning. It turns what’s invisible into something you can observe, interact with, return to, and share.
In the words of Anaïs Nin, writing helps us taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect. It sharpens our attention, captures our reactions. It slows us down to notice the art in the everyday.
Writing challenges us to stay curious and awake.
We write to find meaning, don’t we? To make sense. To release. To remember. To forget.
We write to break silences. To discover who we are and what we know.
Let go of the idea that writing is just for books or publication or proving something.
It’s for connection. It’s for healing ourselves and being reverently alive.
Writing can be a solitary, private act. Or it can be shared in the spirit of connection and community.
This series is an invitation to explore your reasons for writing. Whether you identify as a writer or not, whether you write often or rarely, your story matters, and it has wisdom waiting for you.
Exercise:
This is a great time to revisit the writer timeline exercise. It helps you look back and remember the role that writing (or creative expression) has played in your life.
Self-Discovery
What role has writing played in your life so far? Do you have positive or difficult memories? A little bit of both?
What parts of writing do you find challenging? What kinds of resistance or doubts arise when you sit down to write?
If you were to share some aspect of your story to help or support a certain group of people, who would it be? What and how would you share?
People often say that we write the things that we need to hear. What do you need to hear from yourself right now?
What parts of yourself have only ever made sense once you wrote them down? What did writing reveal to you that thinking alone could not?
How has writing shaped the way you see the world? Are you more observant, more empathetic, more reflective?
Storytelling
Select one memory, milestone, or turning point from the writer timeline exercise and write the story of what happened. What fresh insights do you have after writing this story?