I don’t write to explain things. I write to slow them down—so we can actually notice them. Otherwise, life flies by in a blur of text messages and weather updates, and we miss the really important stuff—like the way your new baby smiles at you when they first wake up, or that feeling you get when you step on their left-behind Lego.
We need to slow down and see the stories all around us. Even when I’m writing fiction, I don’t believe in “background characters.” That person with one line? The one who passes through the story like a desert wind without saying a word? They have years behind them. An entire backstory. Probably a favorite coffee mug and a childhood dream they still think about.
Because that’s real life. You see someone on a train for five minutes, and you’ll never know what universe they’re carrying inside them.
That’s what writing is for—to imagine the rest. To capture and expand on what isn’t obvious.
In my head, every story has a soundtrack. Sometimes it’s piano. Sometimes it’s a cello in a minor key. And sometimes, yes, it’s that moody lo-fi loop you play when it’s raining and you want to feel mysterious while staring at your ceiling.
The rhythm matters. The silences matter too. Especially the silences. You can learn a lot from what isn’t said.
I think stories—whether in prose or verse—are meant to be shared, reread, passed around like strange little keepsakes. They’re personal, but not private.
That’s the thing about writing: it can start as a monologue and become a conversation without anyone asking permission.
Sometimes we write because we have something to say. Sometimes we write because we don’t know what to say. Most of the time, we write just to make sense of things. Or to remember them. Or to let them go.
Or because our teacher says we have to fill a page at font size 12 and single spaced. You’ve probably fallen into one of those categories at least once.
And if you’ve ever read something that made you feel weird in a good way—like it tugged on a thread you didn’t know was loose—then you know how powerful that can be.
How to Experience Writing (Mine or Yours)
- Read it out loud. It sounds different in the air than in your head. Let it surprise you.
- Listen for the rhythm. Even if the beat’s just your own heartbeat.
- Let it sit. Not everything unfolds right away. Sometimes it’s a slow burn.
- Share it. With someone who needs it. With someone who won’t expect it.
- Write your own. Not for applause. Not for likes. Just to figure out what you’re carrying around.
We all have a story. Not a shiny, highlight-reel one—but the real, tangled kind. The kind made up of weird Tuesdays and half-remembered dreams and people who changed us without realizing it.
The kind that deserves to be written down, even if no one else reads it.
So write it. Say it out loud. Keep it in a drawer or post it on your wall. Let it live somewhere.
Because at the end of the day, the world runs on stories. Not logic. Not algorithms. Not notifications.
Just stories.
And we should all be telling ours.