Some days, more than others, are a wake up call in how to write your life story. Yesterday was one of those full-circle days. The kind of day that knocks the wind out of you and fills your lungs all at once.
It marked the 20th anniversary of my dad’s death. It was also my nephew’s 21st birthday—the only grandchild my dad ever knew. Yes. Your math is right: dad died on his oldest grandson’s first birthday.
We gathered and celebrated both of their lives.
And, as we were leaving, we got word that just 40 minutes down the road, we had to say goodbye to another dear family member.
After the long drive home from Boise, through and across the east Idaho desert, I came home emotionally tangled.
Sitting at my desk–no, staring at my desk–I instinctively looked for the framed quote that my sister bought me years and years ago.
“Take the time to write your own life’s story.”
Only I couldn’t find it. It was always on my desk.
I tore through bookshelves, drawers, boxes packed since I left my corporate law office. Nothing. And then—buried beneath a pile of papers I’d been meaning to sort for months (okay, years)—there it was.
The irony hit me square in the chest.
How many of us do this?
We bury the truth we say we’ll “get to someday.”
We delay the life we mean to live.
We postpone writing our story because we’re waiting for a cleaner desk, a better time, or someone else to give us permission.
But here’s what I’ve learned:
There is no better time.
The time to write your life story is now.
Why We Wait (And Why We Shouldn’t)
The systems most of us were raised to trust—corporate ladders, retirement plans, social contracts—taught us this:
“Follow the rules now so you can finally live later.”
But what happens when later doesn’t come?
What if, at 52 or 85, you realize that you’ve got more stories to make then the years allow? What if the version of you who played by all the rules doesn’t even like the game you’re “winning”?
That was me. I spent nearly 20 years as a civil rights attorney.
And when I finally stepped away, I didn’t buy a convertible or fly to Bali.
I started something wild and weird and world-shaping.
I created Participatory Publishing—a way for kids to co-create books alongside me and see that their voice matters. Not later. Now.
So… How Do You Write A Life Story?
People ask this all the time:
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“How do you write a biography of yourself?”
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“Who do you write your life story for?”
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“How do I even start?”
And here’s what I’ve found:
You start first, by living that life.
And if it involves sitting in a windowless office for 9+ hours a day, you’re probably not doing that.
And then, you let go of the idea that it has to be polished, perfect, or even get published. It just has to resonate with the most important audience. You.
You write your life story every time you tell your truth.
You write it when you choose your own voice over someone else’s expectations.
You write it by living it—and then spin that living into words. Even if, as Jimmy Buffett said, those words amount to only a “semi-true story.”
But I think the best stories, aren’t written alone.
Beyond the Memoir: Collective Storytelling
I’m not building a storytelling model about personal narratives. My model is about shared authorship. How what we put into the world shapes the stories of those around us. Sometimes in ways we couldn’t expect. Sometimes in ways we did not know. Always in ways that mean we matter to those around us.
Because right now? We don’t need another top-down tale written by publishing gatekeepers who will tell you your story is not good enough and send you back to the office.
We need stories told by real people—kids, parents, teachers, artists, dreamers. Voices that have been silenced or sidelined for far too long.
We need books that are built together, across race, gender, income, identity, and generation. Stories shaped by the people living them, not just the ones approved to tell them.
That’s what Participatory Publishing is. It’s not just how I’m writing my life story—it’s how I’m inviting others to write theirs, too.
The Barn’s Burnt Down—Now What?
Since it’s quote day, here is another one I love:
“The barn’s burnt down. Now I can see the stars.”
Sometimes, we hold onto systems, titles, and structures simply because they’ve always existed. Even when they no longer serve us. Even when they never did.
But when those burn down?
That’s your chance.
That’s your blank page.
That’s your moment to build something new—for yourself and for the people coming up behind you.
A Challenge to You
So I’ll ask:
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What story do you need to tell?
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What systems are you ready to let go of?
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What stars are just now becoming visible?
If you want a place to begin, start with this:
This week’s Theme Team Challenge is open. Submit your story idea—the one you believe the world most needs to hear. Let it be messy, bold, half-formed, or crystal clear.
Just don’t wait.
Drop your ideas in the comments.
Share this post with someone still waiting for permission.
And remember: you don’t need a midlife crisis car to start over.
You just need to start writing.
Because the time to write your story isn’t “someday.”
It’s now.
Want to Stay in the Story?
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Drop a comment if you’ve felt the tug to finally write your truth.
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Join the newsletter for future contests and co-creation invites.
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Tell me—what’s the story you wish someone had written with you?
