Category: writing

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Write Your Own Story

Do you like to read stories? Do you have a favorite subject or style? Is there an author you’re especially fond of?

If you wrote your own story, what would the title be? And just for fun…what movie star would play your role?

I love to write. Even as a child I loved to write, as long as it was my own idea. I remember sitting in a small room at the front of our house that my mom used as a sewing room. When my grandmother came for a visit, I’d sleep in this room. It had the most comfortable bed in the world (what our family referred to as the ‘slab lounge’).

It was the site of my first story. I was perhaps 9 or 10 years old, and I was infatuated with the FBI, so of course my story was about them going after a bad guy by the name of Shootist Mc Rowan. It was about ten pages long, but it pleased me to be able to say I’d written something, even if the only person that knew about it was me.

Fast forward over fifty years, one wife, two children, two careers, three grandchildren and the freedom of retirement. If you’d asked me if I’d ever thought I would be a published author, I would have said it was ‘highly unlikely’.

But life has a way of contradicting us.

Currently I’m writing the fifth book in a spiritual fiction series titled. Little Buddha (Books One-Four). It may seem boastful, but I can’t help it, I am in love with the characters, each of whom ‘speak to me’. They guide the series wherever it goes, and I follow along. I get to be a contributor, but am mostly the scribe, enjoying the cast and learning from them. It’s an incredible dance and I couldn’t be happier that they’ve invited me into their world.

What if you could write your own story, not the kind I’m writing, but a story about you.

I suspect you already are. I suspect you’ve been writing it for a long time and that parts of it may feel like they are cast in stone, unmovable, unchangeable.

It feels to me that we all do this every day of our lives. We tell ourselves what we need, have to, or should do. We may alter our supporting cast by discontinuing some characters or search for new ones we believe will be better for us.

But the central core of the story is ours. What are you telling yourself? Are the words harsh, judgmental, untrue, indifferent? Or do you offer yourself congratulations, give yourself freedom to make mistakes, learn, grow, love?

What if you could re-write your story?

What would you change? If you took a few moments to consider this, what would you write down? If you’re feeling courageous, you could even do that right now.

I know it might be difficult but imagine the rewards you could reap.

When I turned seventy (still hard to believe I’m that old, since I still feel mentally like I’m 24) I had some intense feelings about my story. I’d been telling myself for years that my physical health was sliding. I couldn’t do all the things I’d been able to do, or at least not easily, and I worried that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my ‘golden years’.

So, I decided it was time to change my story and tell myself a new one. I focused a tremendous amount of energy on my physical being. I changed several eating habits, increased my exercising and walking, altered my vitamin regime, began a weigh weights program, increased my chiropractor, massage and energy work therapies, and added a whole new element to my routine- cold water therapy, which if you’ve been with me, you read about recently.

What this tells me is that I am in charge of my own story. I don’t have to believe what others say about ‘older people’ nor what the news tells us.

I can believe what I tell me. I can write my own story.

And so can you. And you can do it about anything if you really want to. There is no shortage of folks who will help you if you need assistance. You just need to ask. I hope you do.

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Challenging Yourself

Do you remember the last time you challenged yourself to do something you’d never done before?

If you answered, “yes”, was it scary, daunting, exciting, or maybe all three?

Often, I find that I like to stay within my comfort zone, that quiet place where I feel safe and warm. But every once in a while, I sense a need to step out of the box I’ve built and try something completely new.

One such opportunity came along while I was reviewing my email. I got an offer through Word Press, which is where my website is hosted, about an intriguing writing contest.

I’ve never entered one and wondered how it would work.

So, I investigated and discovered that it was organized by a woman named Lydia Lukidis and was titled the Fall Writing Frenzy Contest. Those entering would be requested to write a story of 200 words or less based on a photograph. Many choices were offered, and you would have a couple of weeks to complete your entry and then submit.

I scrolled through the photos and was immediately drawn to one provided by Danielle Colucci (for Unsplash). The photo showed a stone alleyway bordered by buildings along both sides, with a hillside in the background. One of the buildings has a porch light on which casts a reddish glow on several stones of the alleyway. It was taken at dusk with a fading blue sky and gray clouds. Although a story started to form immediately, it would not come into focus.

I tried and tried, but nothing would take shape and I found it quite frustrating until I realized I was trying to write it from my head and what drew me to the picture was from my heart.

So, I let go and sat back and waited for my heart to fill in the words. I found I had to walk away, think about other things, and then come back. Once I did, I could lean into writing what my heart wanted to say.

What came to me felt like a true story. It touched me deeply and I wanted to share it with you.

Will The Light Be On (my title)

She knew I had to leave. My family would starve without food. Without me.

I remember the last thing I said to her. I told her that I loved her and would be back soon. And then I kissed her, gently brushing my lips against hers and walked out of the door and her life.

She must have believed that I lied to her, because it’s been three years since I’ve seen her face, heard her voice, held her in my arms.

How could she have known that I was taken, forced into the back of a truck, and made to be another’s servant, working in their fields from before the sun rose until after it fell out of the sky.

They gave me only enough food for one day’s strength. What they did not know was, she was my food. She was my hope. Hope that I would one day see her again, be with her, marry her.

So, one day I ran. I ran so fast and so far, they would never catch me.

And now I am here, turning the corner to her street. If the light is on, I’ll know she still loves me. (end)

One of the things I learned during this creative process is that I cannot discover anything new if I remain standing in one place, locked into doing the same things over and over again.

I know that it takes courage to step into the unknown, but there is so much freedom and joy waiting there for us.

While checking to see if my contest entry was received, I found I have no record of it being sent. At first that really disturbed me, but after I thought about it for a few minutes, I relaxed and noticed that the real value to me was in accepting my own challenge, enjoying the creative process, and loving the resulting story that still warms my heart each time I reread it.

I hope you enjoy the story too.