"You Should Write a Book."

how many times have you heard that statement?

Tomorrow I am teaching the fourth iteration of my book writing class, Tell Your Story. In the two short years since this class was born, it has become my pride and joy.

Not because of the income, which is definitely nice (I mean I do have two children that eat things).

Not because three (yes THREE) of my students have gone on to sign traditional book deals.

But because of the incredible reward I feel when my students start finding their voice.

“You should write a book.”

How many times have you heard that statement?

Maybe by others, maybe in your own head?

I suspect the number is at least twice.

At least once a week, I'm approached by someone who asks if they should publish their story. I love this question because my immediate response is always, "Absolutely, you should!"

But the thing is, their excited proclamations are almost immediately followed by a laundry list of reasons it won't get done.

Some folks simply don’t know where to start, or have a hard time organizing their thoughts. Some are afraid that sharing their truth will somehow hurt or humiliate them.

They wonder...

"What if my story really pisses folks off?"

"Or worse…what if nobody cares?"

"What difference can one story really make?"

I get it. I've had every one of these thoughts. To be honest, I still have them, sometimes. But I challenge those thoughts because I've seen with my own eyes the evidence that story telling matters.

I'll never forget the first time a reader recognized me at a Barnes and Noble. They came up and hugged me with tears in their eyes, and thanked me for sharing my story. Some aspects of the abuse I'd experienced as a child helped them realize they were also abused. They had recently come forward, and begun their healing journey--all because I shared mine.

The truth is, a story can change EVERYTHING for someone else, and in the process, heal a part of you, too.

For the longest time, I struggled to express the depths of my inner world. The words I wrote and shared with others always seemed pale in comparison to the richness of what was contained inside of me.

But as time went by, something extraordinary happened. Through reading, deep friendship, and even through music—I started listening to other people’s stories. And what I found was the vulnerable truths that were shared truly helped me make sense of my own.

Like the late Rachel Held Evans who shifted my worldview by sharing her faith deconstruction. In one of the scariest phases of my life, her books were my closest companions, giving me the language and confidence I needed to express my spiritual journey.

Some of my greatest life revelations have come in the simplest of moments, when someone wrote a truth that resonated with something that was hidden inside me all along.

I remember my grandmother telling me how, in her generation, they didn’t really speak about feelings. They lived in a careful culture of silence that many of us are still trapped in today. They didn't put their crazy on the front porch, they kept it all tucked in neat.

What I'm starting to believe is this: Social media has taken this toxic suppression and made it a thousand times worse. We are sharing stories, sure, but it’s all surface level.

We are loud about absolutely nothing.

I believe all this pretense and this shallow way of communicating is slowly suffocating humanity. We are losing ourselves—and our connections to each other—because we’re far too afraid to be real.

Y'all, connection is more vital than ever before, and vulnerability is the bridge it must take.

That's why I believe in story telling, and that's why I teach this class.

Because story telling is not just important for the human soul, it's essential to our growth and communities.

Stories remind us of our humanity, of our shared struggles and joys. Without them, we remain isolated. Believing that all of our pain, our rejection, our failures are uniquely our own.

But when you hear someone else share their experience—when they open up about rejection, their grief, their moments of feeling invisible—suddenly you realize that you’re not alone.

And what a powerful thing that can be.

In that moment, something shifts. Shame loses its grip, and we are seen for who we are. That, to me, is the power of story telling—it is the bridge that connects us, the salve that heals us.

Your story holds the power to heal not only yourself, but someone else who may be struggling in silence. Start with those closest to you, with the people you trust, and slowly expand that circle. You’ll find that your story has a ripple effect, touching lives in ways you can’t even imagine.

Your story may be the very thing that gives another person the strength to share theirs.

Today, my hope is that everyone reading finds the courage to be a bit more vulnerable. The world needs your story—now more than ever. And you can tell it in so many ways. Through words or music or writing...I believe in you.

Tell your story.

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TELL YOUR STORY is tomorrow (Tuesday) September 17th at 6 pm central. Ticket holders gain access to the course via zoom link (sent out in the morning). The course will be recorded and sent to all TYS ticket holders (previous and current).

Limited tickets remain.

TICKETS/INFO