Almost everyone I meet has a story they want to tell someday.

“Someday when work slows down.”

“Someday when my health is better.”

“Someday when I am in a better place.”

“Someday” is comforting. A convenient lie we tell ourselves to excuse our refusal to follow through on the promises we make.

Here’s the truth most people don’t want to hear:
If you wait until you feel “ready,” your story will never be written.

I heard Jesse Itzler describe it this way:

And while that is certainly not the right strategy for all of life, it does have its place in many areas.

If my husband Lou and I had waited until we were more financially sound, or had higher paying jobs, to have kids, We would never have had the experience of being parents together. He would never have held his babies before he was killed, and I would not have the profound honor of being their mom, even when I wasn’t “ready” to raise them without Lou. 

If I’d waited until I was “ready” to write my books, I would never have heard from the man who approached me out of the blue one day, to tell me how grateful he and his family are that I wrote my first book, because it has helped them heal from their own tragedy.

I might never get emails from people telling me how one of my books made them laugh when they needed it.

And I would certainly not now be embarking on another dream I am not “ready’ for - bringing my book How to Woo a Widow to life in a film. 

The people who write meaningful books, essays, or memoirs don’t start because they have everything in place and life is perfect. They start because the dread of regret outweighs their insecurities and excuses.

There is a cost to waiting.

Time doesn’t just pass; it edits. Details blur. Emotions soften or harden in ways that change the truth of what happened. The rawness that gives your story power quietly fades. You don’t lose the memory- you lose the nuances and visceral memories that flow onto the pages when it is still fresh.

Writing isn’t about reliving trauma for entertainment. I meet extraordinary people. I remember meeting one of several veterans I’ve met, whose stories  become books and films. The unimaginable heroism and trauma this vet

eran survived had survived still smoldered in his eyes, behind his bright smile and scathing wit. 

I once shared with him that, in the early days of my loss, when I was invited to speak and appear on news shows, at some point I realized those people were not interested in me. They were interested in eliciting the raw pain for their viewers or audiences.

That veteran’s eyes popped, his body tensed. And he roared with laughter. “Yes! That is exactly what it is like.” 

Writing your story should not feel exploitative or gratuitous. It will drain you at times, yes. But it  should leave you feeling cleansed and stronger for it, not newly broken and retraumatized. Your readers should feel inspired more than traumatized, themselves. 

It’s about making meaning out of what tried to break you. It’s about giving structure to chaos, language to the unspeakable, and perspective to experiences that still whisper in the background of your life.

Your story matters. 

You don’t have to start with a book.

You start with a moment.
A scene.
A sentence you’ve been carrying around for years.

You write badly at first. Everyone does. You write emotionally. You write inconsistently. That’s not failure. That’s the process. 

You don’t need more time. You need a smaller starting point.

Fifteen minutes a day.

A skilled writer can work with you to recognize the threads that need to be pulled, and to pull them respectfully.

Your story is your experience, but sharing it is also your duty.

If you’ve ever been helped by someone else’s story, why not pay that forward and help someone else with yours? 

I’ve watched people delay their writing for decades, only to realize too late that what they lived through could have helped someone else feel less alone. Less crazy. Less broken.

You don’t have to publish tomorrow.
You don’t have to share everything.
But you do have to begin.

Because the version of you who survived the hardest chapters of your life deserves to be heard. 

Not later.
Now.

If this resonates, consider sharing it. And if you’ve been waiting for permission to start writing-this is it. If you want to write your book but have not found the right person to help you - let’s talk!