As I reach for my latte, my eye catches the hand inscription on the silver ring I wear on my middle finger: “Sing in me, muse, and through me tell the story.”
The quote by Homer dazzles me every time I read it. At 23, I knew my goal in life was to find the story, tell the story, or hold space for others to tell theirs.
I found the ring at Wright’s, a high-end boutique in Manhattan Beach, California. I used to drift into that beachside store on my way home from work, saving little by little until I could finally buy it.
Twelve years later, I lost it, flung across a room by my high-energy toddler, who had slipped it onto her tiny finger and then threw her arms up in joy.
Although the ring is gone, the sentiment is not.
A quick glance at my LinkedIn resume might look scattered to some, but the throughline has always been the same: I am either searching for a story or helping to share one in a way that enhances lives.
In sales, I told the story of how a product could improve your life.
In news, I shared the story of events unfolding in real time.
In advertising, I shaped the story of why something mattered.
Even when I owned my indoor playground, I knew every birthday party was creating a memory, a story a child would one day tell.
In Hawaii, there is a phrase: “talk story.”
It’s more than conversation. It’s tradition. Rosa Say writes that in Hawaiian culture, history was not written, it was spoken, shared, remembered. I love how she explains, “Anyone who speaks has the potential to be my teacher.”
It’s the same reason I believe you should write a nonfiction book. If you have lived, you have something to teach and if you have learned, you have something to share.
If you feel called to write a nonfiction book, you should.
This week, I was reminded of Homer’s quote while working through my Week 0 prep plan from last week’s Substack. I committed to answering my foundational questions. I’ve done this many times before, for other book ideas, but never for a book about writing.
Something exciting happened, I realized I was rediscovering what writing means to me.
Reality
I followed my writing plan as best I could. But, as life does, it threw a few curveballs.
I arrived at LAX four hours early, fully prepared to type! I breezed through the short CLEAR line and felt that anticipation of a productive afternoon.
I pictured myself at Urth Caffé, coffee in hand, with my laptop opened. Instead, I spent three hours on the phone discussing life matters.
The next evening while back in New Orleans and getting ready for a Journey concert, my daughter called from the ER in Boston.
Within 90 minutes, my husband had booked a last-minute JetBlue flight, and I was on my way, for 24 hours that mattered more than anything else. Nothing is more important to me than being there for my family.
But I’m also learning something new: I need to be there for myself, too. I didn’t believe that at 30 or 40 but as I begin my 50th year, I’m trying something different, I’m keeping promises to myself. I’m not a martyr as I wouldn’t change much. But I did make a promise last week, to share this process, and I intend to keep it.
So here’s the update:
What’s working:
My plan worked. The right things got done.
What got done:
My content library is now one 30,000-word document.
I pulled together 12 weeks of First Draft Friday (15+ slides each), added my scripts, and answered my 10 foundational questions.
✅ Created a manuscript folder and gathered all course content
✅ Answered my 10 foundational questions
✅ Established a writing schedule
What felt hard:
My schedule did not go as planned. I ended up using my morning pages sessions to push forward and added an extra hour on Friday morning. My schedule ended up being: Saturday–Thursday from 7–8 AM and Friday from 7–9 AM. Afternoon writing? Still not happening. That needs to change.
What surprised me:
How powerful it felt to remember that Homer quote. My writing felt much more purposeful once I reread the quote.
Week 1 Writing Plan:
Read through my content library and create an outline
Determine by book Structure. I think it will be a listicle format (12 weeks = 12 sections)
Begin writing the introduction. (I already know what I want to say. Now it’s time to stop rehearsing it in my head and finally put it on the page.)
On Fridays, we write.
Even when life doesn’t go as planned.