A friend in my writing group told me that I’ll find my voice by telling the stories of my heart. I have so much in my heart that I don’t know where to start, but I know that what I’ve been doing here is telling those stories.
I don’t know why they come out this way. I don’t know why the stories I tell feel more true when I share them this way.
I don’t know why I’m not drawn to writing fiction. I’ve seen books that use the writer’s life experiences that they’ve fictionalized and make me feel that the story is true, even if the characters aren’t real. I know it’s possible to tell your heart stories this way, and maybe one day I will. But for now I’m feeling the need to own my stories, and the only way I can do that is to tell them the way they come out.
I hope you can see my heart. I hope you can see the hope and the desire to lift you up. I hope you can see what is behind the words. My soul is reaching out to you–know that I see your struggle to overcome the barriers that life has placed in your path, and I want to walk beside you while you do it.