Have you ever considered the impact of sharing your life’s moments in small, digestible pieces? Often, we think our stories need to be grand, sweeping epics to be worth telling. That old phrase “Go big or go home!” has no bearing here. It’s in the everyday, ordinariness where the real magic lies. This summer, I experienced firsthand the joy and connection that comes from sharing these life snippets.
A Celebration of Words and Wilderness
I had the honor of reading my poetry at a Gila Centennial Celebration in Kingston, NM. This experience, coupled with the thrill that same week of seeing my essay and photographs grace the cover of Woods Reader’s Spring 2024 edition, reinforced a valuable lesson: stories, regardless of their length, hold immense power. My short work centered around the majestic Gila wilderness and found a home among others who cherish the natural world as deeply as I do.
The Joy of Bite-Sized Sharing
We don’t need to limit ourselves to traditional long-form narratives. The beauty of storytelling lies in its versatility. Consider the richness that can be found in:
Recounting that unforgettable family dinner
Reflecting on the moment you met your best friend
Capturing your pet’s endearing quirks
Reliving a thrilling adventure
The simple pleasure of a picnic with friends or family
These brief moments are the threads that weave the tapestry of our lives. They’re deeply satisfying to recount, share, and remember.
Start Small, Dream Big
Why wait to share your story? Begin with those small, yet profoundly meaningful experiences. You’ll find that these bite-sized pieces not only bring joy to you and your listeners but can also lay the foundation for a larger narrative—a full-length memoir or a comprehensive family history.
Every Story Matters
In a world that often rushes us to move from one moment to the next, take the time to celebrate your stories and savor one bite at a time. Share the stories that make you who you are. Remember, it’s not the length of the story that counts but the impact it leaves on the heart.
What small story will you create today?
(Photo courtesy Sebastian Coman Photography via Unsplash)
Did you know that, according to some studies, our attention span is shorter than that of a goldfish? This surprising tidbit reminds us how fleeting our moments and memories can be. Yet, it’s in the rich field of our memories that we cultivate stories. Especially those warmed by the summer sun. This post is dedicated to everyone who cherishes those long, sunlit days, old and new, and the stories they hold.
The Essence of Summer Memories
Remember the joy of lying in a field, the sky a canvas of clouds above you? Or the thrill of catching tadpoles in a nearby stream? Summer is a season of vivid, sensory-rich memories: the scent of horse sweat mixed with sweet carrots, the sound of laughter under the sprinklers, and the taste of homemade peach ice cream. These moments, from the monumental to the mundane, shape us and our stories.
Why Share Your Story?
Many hold back, worried their stories might not captivate others. But think about this: every shared memory is a thread that connects us, revealing the shared human experience. Your stories, whether they’re of bareback horse riding or road trips to unexplored places, are not just about you. They shape the world around us, influencing and inspiring those who hear them.
How to Begin Documenting Your Summer Stories
1. Set the Scene with Memory Prompts: Start with a simple exercise. Set a timer for five minutes and jot down every summer memory that comes to mind. You might narrow it down to a certain decade of your life, or an even shorter time frame. You can also turn on the firehose and let them all pour out. Don’t fret over the details; focus on capturing the essence.
2. Dive Deeper: Next to each memory, add sensory details. Who was there? What did you feel, smell, or hear? These notes will serve as the foundation for richer, more detailed stories. You can come back to these later.
3. Share and Inspire: Encourage friends and family to undertake this journey with you. Sharing these memory prompts can spark a collective storytelling session, weaving communal stories of summer adventures.
The Joy of Collective Storytelling
Imagine the fun of exchanging stories with loved ones, each memory a piece of a larger narrative. This process brings us closer and serves as a powerful reminder of our shared humanity. You’ll probably discover that you share similar experiences with many. Enjoy the different perspectives and details.
Final Thoughts: The Invitation to Share
Your life’s stories are too precious to keep to yourself. By sharing them, you gift others a piece of history, a slice of joy, and a spark of inspiration. So, I encourage you—share your summer memories, write them down, and let them breathe life into the pages of your story.
PS – A Project to Connect
Consider a long-distance project with your circle. Choose a memory and have everyone write a short piece about it. Collect these stories to share and cherish. This small step could be the beginning of a beautiful tradition of sharing and documenting your collective histories.
Interested in going further? I created a handle guide to help you, Tell Your Life Story: 10 Tips and Techniques to Write Your Memoir.If you haven’t read it yet, let me assure you…it is short by design. No fluff, I want you to get through it fast so you can start sharing your story. You can pick it up on Amazon in either print or e-book, whatever suits your style. But more importantly…
I want you to become inspired. To realize that the life experiences and memories you’ve accumulated are priceless and worth sharing.
Be yourself; everyone else is already taken. This timeless piece of wisdom from author Oscar Wilde is a beacon for anyone embarking on the journey of self-reflection and storytelling. It’s a call to embrace your unique story and share it with the world.
Imagine transforming your life’s moments, both big and small, into a captivating essay or book that resonates with friends, family, and future generations. This is where the concept of a Lifeline comes into play. It’s a simple, yet profound tool to help you organize and reflect on the events that have shaped you.
The Lifeline Project: Your First Step
Creating a Lifeline is akin to sketching the outline of a grand painting, where each stroke represents a pivotal moment in your life. You don’t need elaborate tools to begin—just grab some posterboard, copy paper, or even a whiteboard, and you’re set. Consider using sticky notes and a blank wall for a dynamic and flexible approach. This exercise isn’t just for aspiring authors; it’s for anyone eager to delve into their personal or family history with a fresh perspective.
**Getting Started**
Reserve about an hour and start by brainstorming a list of 10 life events. This initial step will open the floodgates to your memory, allowing more moments to surface naturally. You’ll be amazed at how much you can remember during this exercise!
Turning Points and Special Events
Every life is a tapestry of moments that, together, form a unique narrative. Highlighting the turning points and special events in your Lifeline not only outlines your story but also helps you understand the impact of these moments. Consider:
– Physical locations that hold significance
– Historical events that intersect with your personal journey
Add bullet points or brief notes about stories that come to mind during this process. Include every sensory detail you can remember. These initial snippets can later blossom into full chapters or essays. Or maybe even a poem if you’re so inclined.
Unleashing Creativity and Capturing Memories
Placing your Lifeline where you can see it daily encourages ongoing reflection and creativity. Let your mind wander through your past before bedtime, and keep a journal nearby to jot down any memories or ideas that emerge. In fact, keep something to take notes with on you at all times during this process. Memories pop up at the strangest times and you don’t want to forget. This practice can unearth forgotten treasures and inspire new insights, potentially becoming key components of your story.
The Act of Starting
Louis L’Amour once said,
Start writing – no matter what – the water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.
Your Lifeline is that faucet.
Whether you prefer jotting down notes, using a voice recording app, or sharing memories with a friend, the key is to begin. This simple act of starting can unleash a flow of creativity and memories, paving the way for your storytelling journey. Give yourself a chance!
Sharing Your Story
Now that you’ve embarked on this journey of self-discovery and storytelling, consider sharing a piece of your Lifeline with others. Whether it’s through a personal essay, a blog post, or a conversation with a loved one, your story deserves to be heard. Remember, it’s not just about preserving memories; it’s about celebrating the unique path you’ve traveled and the wisdom gained along the way.
I’d love to hear about an event from your Lifeline or your goals for storytelling this year. Feel free to hit reply or share with a friend for that extra bit of motivation. Let’s turn those taps on and let our stories flow!
Writer Mary Rue shares a trip down a country road in her guest post. I love this line:
…the past lives and is always part of our present.
Enjoy the journey and may you be inspired to share your own! You’ll find her bio at the end of the story. Thanks for sharing, Mary!
I just returned from a trip into my past or more accurately my Mother’s past. A visit with cousins in Louisiana led to a trip down some back roads in Washington Parish which led to a remote Baptist church and a small cemetery and a surprise.
Mother says I’ve been to the cemetery before, but I have no recollection of that. My great grandparents and some of their siblings and children are buried there, and I amazed my family by locating the cemetery on the internet via my iPhone and accessing a website that actually listed all of the people buried there.
There are thousands of such cemeteries accessible to varying degrees via country roads in every county and state in North America. This particular cemetery, Sunny Hill, is maintained by the descendents of another family whose name appears on many of the headstones. The sad truth is that too many small family cemeteries are not maintained and thus likely to be overgrown and lost forever.
Does it matter if they are lost or found?
Maybe not. I suppose I’m interested in such things because of my love of history and dabbling in genealogy, but there was something compelling about standing in the yard between that cemetery and the small white country church that my Mother remembered attending as a child. [She says it used to be a lot bigger church back then!]
As we stood there she started talking again about the Sunny Hill community of her childhood, pointing out where the Methodist church and the general store used to be, where the school she attended was located. She reminisced about walking to school for one year, first grade, because her Daddy wanted her to go to the school he went to when he was growing up. Funny thing was that he made Mother’s little sister accompany her on the one mile walk, so my Aunt Pansy sat through first grade that year and then had to go the next year too. Oh, and by the way, I’m not sure what a five year old could have done to protect a six year old had something bad happened to them on the way to school. But those were different times.
We had piled in the car to begin our trip back to the present, but the past wasn’t through with us yet. As Mother pointed to a wooded area across the road from the church and told us, “The school was right there,” my cousin said, “I see something. It looks like a shack.” Sure enough, we got out of the car and peering into the woods could just make out the building, or what was left of it.
Just as my cousin was promising to come back and explore the area later, we discovered a path that was more or less clear so we all traipsed into the woods, right up to the dilapidated two-story structure where my grandfather had gone to school and played basketball, and where my Mother had attended first grade.
There wasn’t much left there to see, but there was a broad staircase, walls, parts of the floor and the roof, and somehow I had no trouble picturing my Mother there.
For good or ill, the past lives and is always part of our present. For me, it is all good. I think John Denver said/sang it best: “Country roads take me home . . . “
(Original post 10/15/2011)
I am a Christian wife, Mother and Grandmother who has finally lived long enough to achieve a lifetime goal – retirement. I enjoy card-making and scrapbooking, reading and photography. I’ve also realized that even at my age God still has plans for my life and more than anything I want to serve Him. – Mary Rue
One of the most common objections I hear when folks are asked to share their story is “I don’t have anything interesting to say, I’m just a nobody.” If you’ve known me long at all, you know that I often speak of the Beautiful Ordinary and its place of honor in our memories.
Most of us, if given the opportunity, would jump at the chance to sit down with a long-lost relative and listen to them relate their ordinary “Day in the Life” experiences. We’re curious about how they did life and we want to know if they handled trials and challenges in ways that might help us.
We are hardwired to crave stories, and there’s something powerful about the warmth of everyday experiences. It’s how we pass on our values, our culture, our life memories.
We want to know:
*How can we connect?
*What can we learn?
*What did you see and experience?
Author Eudora Welty captured this sense of anticipation surrounding storytelling:
Long before I wrote stories, I listened for stories. Listening for them is something more acute than listening to them. I suppose it’s an early form of participation in what goes on. Listening children know stories are there. When their elders sit and begin, children are just waiting and hoping for one to come out, like a mouse from its hole.
Here are 5 ways writing your story matters:
You can use each as a prompt to jump-start your journaling practice. Or try creating a bubble outline for your personal story. By the way, memoir writing can be short too, think one paragraph, one story.
Empathy and Connection: Your writing can connect you with others who have experienced similar events or share your background. This builds empathy and drives a sense of belonging. Your story might be the bridge that can build stronger relationships and communities.
Self-Reflection: Writing your story allows you to reflect on your experiences, understand your journey, and gain insights. You might find yourself making new connections that may transform how you think about the events in your life.
Inspiration: Sharing your story can inspire others to overcome obstacles and embrace their own journeys. Reading your story may help them in ways you can only dream of.
Growth and Healing: Writing your story, even if just for your personal use, can be cathartic, helping you process challenges and the hard parts of life, finding healing and closure. If you choose to share your story it has the potential to do great good as others relate to your experiences.
Legacy and Impact: You have the opportunity to share with the future your wisdom, lessons learned, experiences, and unique witness to your life and times. Writing your personal history lets you inspire others both now and in the future.
We each collect a lifetime of stories. Each person’s unique history deserves to be remembered and shared with others.
*Write down that funny story about your sibling *Record your memories of growing up in a specific place/neighborhood *Commit to paper those stories your friends and family always ask you to tell
Now, take a few easy steps to share yours. Drop me a line and tell me your reason for sharing your story, I’d love to hear from you. Karen
How did a midwestern girl end up in Arizona? Our guest post author< Deb Winters LeBarge, gives us a glimpse into a transformational journey and a beautiful Arizona highway.
Deb Winters LeBarge is a self-proclaimed expert in the art of making life-changing decisions…or at least, she’s trying to be. Currently living in Arizona, armed with a pen and a quirky sense of humor, she’s on a mission to document the hilarious mishaps and unexpected triumphs that have shaped her existence. When she’s not busy tripping over her own feet, Deb can be found drinking Pepsi, contemplating the mysteries of the universe, and wondering if she’ll ever learn from her mistakes.
We’ll pick up at this point in Deb’s story, Arizona Got Me, come along for the ride:
As Tony and I left the bustling airport behind, the landscape gradually changed. The metropolis gave way to the rugged beauty of Arizona. The road stretched out before us, leading us toward Black Canyon City.
The silence in the truck was obvious, a quiet understanding that this trip held a different significance. Yet, there was a sense of routine, a familiarity natural from our numerous rides together.
The truck vibrated softly as we cruised along the highway. Outside, the setting sun painted the sky in varieties of flushed orange and blush pink, casting long shadows on the rocky terrain. The desert landscape, usually harsh and unforgiving, seemed almost gentle under the soft glow of twilight.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. He was looking straight ahead, his hands steady on the wheel.
I nodded; my gaze fixed on the changing colors of the sky. “It is,” I replied quietly.
We fell back into silence, each lost in our thoughts. The journey continued, the truck moving smoothly along the winding roads. The setting was their old hometown of Black Canyon City, Arizona, a place filled with memories both sweet and bitter. The sunsets were always breathtaking. But now, the thought of returning filled me with unease. As we neared Black Canyon City, the lights from the houses twinkled in the distance like stars on earth.
The ride from the airport was more than just a physical journey. It was a transition from the known to the unknown, a silent agreement that we were stepping into uncharted territory. Yet within all this, there was a strange sense of calm – a feeling that no matter what lay ahead, we were ready to face it together.
During my visit to Arizona, Tony and I found ourselves engaged in deep conversations. We talked about the promises made and broken, the trust that was shattered, and the pain that still lingered. We talked about everything – about Shelly and her impact on our relationship, about Tony and his struggle with his past, and about us and the mess we were in.
There were hard truths to face, and insistence on complete honesty. Even with the tension, Tony and I managed to find peace.
We went for scenic drives around Arizona, taking in the beauty of the landscape and spending quality time together. It felt like we were slowly restoring our relationship.
How would it end? The question resounded in my mind, its answer as elusive as a desert mirage. Would we be able to reconcile our differences, or would old wounds resurface? The uncertainty was a heavy weight in my chest, making each breath feel like a struggle.
Before I returned home, Tony and I found ourselves at a crossroads. We had a heart-to-heart conversation; a crucial decision made that marked a major turning point in our relationship. We decided not to let Shelly interfere with our relationship any longer. Tony and I had finally decided to take the next big step in our relationship – marriage.
Our commitment to each other was clear and strong, despite the complicated circumstances we found ourselves in. To confirm our commitment, we set off on a journey to Prescott, Arizona. Our destination was the old courthouse, a stately building that stood as a silent witness to time and countless stories of love, commitment, and loss.
The drive to Prescott, filled with shared silences and unspoken promises. Each mile brought us closer to our purpose. As we arrived at the courthouse, we were greeted by several stairs leading up to its grand entrance. Climbing the stairs felt like a scene straight out of the Rocky movie, each step bringing us closer to our purpose, each step symbolizing our determination and resolution.
And so, within the grandeur of the old courthouse and the unspoken approval of time itself, Tony and I took a decisive step toward our future together.
We walked into the county clerk’s office; our hands tightly clasped. In the busy office, we found ourselves standing in line with a diverse group of individuals. The room was abuzz with activity, but there were not enough clerks to manage the crowd. We all stood against the wall, our backs straight, like a line-up. We waited. And watched. Our amusement was short-lived.
We waited for our turn. The room filled with a sense of anticipation, each couple engrossed in their own world. In the middle of this, a woman sitting at a large desk caught our attention. She was shuffling paperwork, her hands moving with practiced ease. Opening a desk drawer, she pulled out a new set of documents and then looked up…
Deb’s story continues the adventure… You can contact her at: deb.winterslebarge@yahoo.com. Thanks for sharing a bit of your story with us, Deb!
Interested in learning how to write your story and share important memories in compelling and interesting ways? Reach out and let’s talk, you can find me at kray@rememberingthetime.net.
We all get a little stuck sometimes, in our lives and in our writing. When our kids were young we once took a summer day trip outing to some local caves. It was great to explore these because of their constant, cool temperature. That morning we left our Big White Bumpy Truck, as the kids had nicknamed the old crew cab pickup, parked in a flat, hardpacked sandy area. Then, we enjoyed our little hike and spelunking.
Early that afternoon, we packed up the picnic remains and returned to the truck, intent on getting one of the kids to a friend’s birthday party.
We were about to learn a physics lesson.
We had not accounted for the strange behavior of desert sand under different temperatures. What had been the perfect parking spot, was now a fluffy, loose sand pit. You guessed it, we got stuck! We got creative and the kids learned how to use bushes to build a firm foundation for the tires. Hot, sweaty work but we made it out in time for the party. It would have been a crime to miss out on the pinata! This adventure taught us a hard-won lesson about the necessity of carrying a shovel on all of our backroad adventures.
So, when you’re stuck in your writing what are some
handy tricks to get you out of the sand pit?
1 – Pick one small goal to hit with your writing. It might be telling the story of one event, or brainstorming everything you can think of around a photo for your book. It might be setting up your lifeline (I’ve created both a worksheet and a beautiful journal for you, both are available in the Etsy shop). Or you might write the draft of one chapter.
2 – Complete one of your writing goals. See step one for ideas. Don’t keep returning to that same section or chapter, reworking it to death. Save the editing for later. Go on to the next chapter. The act of finishing something builds momentum and this gets you unstuck. This is like gaining momentum and traction while you push that stuck pickup out of the sand. It’s hard at first but with focused effort you’ll be rolling on your way to Dairy Queen for ice cream. Can you tell what motivates me?
3 – Make a date with yourself for focused writing time. Don’t multi-task with a squirrel brain, it will make it tough to complete your goal. Make this enjoyable, your favorite drink, location, music, set the mood, and think of it as treating yourself.
Tip: Put your phone away during this time.
You are special and your writing is worth your undivided attention.
Let me know how it goes, and I’d love to hear your techniques for recharging your writing. Best, Karen PS: Need more tips and prompts for beginning your story? Pick up a copy of my handy new guide Tell Your Life Story: 10 Tips and Techniques to Write Your Memoir. It’s available in both e-book and print, here’s a link https://amzn.to/3JC7ZA4
