Finding the Heart of Your Story
The heart of your story is already with you—this is how to find your way back to it.
The heart of your story is already with you—this is how to find your way back to it.
You sit down to write.
The story is there and you know it.
But the words come out wrong.
Or worse, they don’t come at all.
What does emerge feels flat.
Your voice? Distant. Muted. Nonexistent.
Almost like someone else wrote it.
This is the moment so many of my clients arrive at—
Not because they lack a story to tell.
But because they’ve lost connection to the heart of why they are telling it.
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You might find yourself spiraling:
Here’s what I want you to know:
Before your story can be shaped into something powerful, it has to feel like you.
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Sometimes it sounds like mimicking the experts in your field.
Slipping into language that’s polished but empty.
Writing entire drafts that prove your credibility but say very little about what motivates you.
You may dread talking about your story.
Not because it lacks value.
But because the words don’t quite fit the essence of what you know is there.
It can show up as oversharing or under-sharing.
Too much backstory. Too much branding polish.
Too much of everything—except the pulse of why this story matters now.
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It rarely arrives as a lightning strike.
More often, it comes as a soft whisper—
A pattern you've lived but never named.
A tension you’ve felt but never voiced.
It’s often buried in the moments you’ve minimized.
Or revealed in the gap between what you say you want—and what you actually long for.
And then, if you’re listening—it lands.
A line that feels true in your body.
A sentence that makes you breathe differently.
That’s how you know you’re close.
Whether we’re working on a book, a brand, or a talk—
We begin with presence. With noticing.
Together, we trace what I call the emotional architecture of your story:
The peaks and valleys that shaped your experience.
The threads that want to be held before the weaving begins.
Sometimes we map that visually through a high/low timeline.
Other times it’s a quiet conversation.
Gentle prompts. Somatic stillness.
We don’t force. We listen.
For authors: You draft first. At least eight chapters.
Your voice is sacred and it must stay intact before any editing begins.
For brands: We start with your audience.
If you don’t know who you’re speaking to, your message will keep slipping through your fingers.
For pitches or talks: We focus on what you need to say,
and what you hope your audience will carry, remember, or act on once they’ve heard it.
Often, we’re still telling the version of our story that once kept us safe—
Or the one we think people want to hear.
But stories shape more than books and brands.
They shape belief.
They shape identity.
They shape the future.
So the question isn’t just: What do you want to say?
It’s: Which version of your story are you choosing to live into next?
We write with formality.
We stack credentials.
We say, “See? I’ve earned this.”
But that’s not what creates connection.
That’s not what makes your audience exhale and say,
“Yes. I feel that too.”
Connection doesn’t come from proving.
It comes from permission.
From your willingness to be real—even when you’re still figuring it out.
It’s still there.
Tucked beneath the mimicry, the expectations,
The pressure to package yourself into something digestible.
Once you reconnect with it, the words soften.
The resistance lifts.
The story flows—not perfectly, but authentically.
And when the story is real—it moves people.
It moves you.
If you’re feeling the pull, I offer a Free Story Clarity Mini-Session—
Send me your story concept, and I’ll reply with a personal voice note to help you move forward.
Or, if you’re ready to go deeper, explore my storytelling services here.
You don’t have to do this alone.
You just have to be willing to listen again.