The Moment I Realized My Story Needed to Be Told

There’s a moment in every writer’s life when the whisper of a story becomes too loud to ignore. For me, that moment came when I was having coffee with a friend. In less than an hour, I became inspired, if not consumed, with the idea of writing a book. All because someone asked me a question.

“How do you do this?” That’s it. Over hot oat milk lattes, just 6 weeks after my husband won his 8th political campaign, my friend posed the question that would leave me energized, if not a little obsessed.

I’m not surprised that it took almost 19 years since Rick and I said yes to his first city council race in 1999 for anyone to ask what life was like for me, the spouse of a public servant. I had been content to remain in the background, foreground, on the sidelines, anywhere but out in front. I felt that it was my role to let my husband be the story because he was the one on the ballot, the elected one, the one with all of the talking points. I’d chosen quietly support what ended up superseding his chosen career as a lawyer by assisting campaign teams when asked, canvassing neighborhoods and calling voters during election season, keeping our household humming, shouldering more of the child-rearing during campaigns, and working a part-time job at a local non-profit.

That all changed in 2017, his 8th and final campaign. Rick was running for re-election as mayor, and the former mayor who hadn’t served for 8 years wanted his old job back. The formerly popular mayor garnered support based on questionable campaign tactics, and riding the wave of political vitriol that was created during the 2016 presidential election. Eight years ago, arguments from angry candidates spewing lies still worked in some races. It almost did in our city of 270,000.

That election was the costliest in our city’s history. Divisions were created. Our son’s classmates who supported my husband’s opponent brought the dinner conversations to the high school halls. Everyone was busy trying to get their candidate of choice elected. I kept my head down, and made more than 2,000 calls to voters, logged miles in my Hoka sneakers, and prayed. I was grateful for the blessing of seniority. I knew that campaigns were marathons, and that what is said one day can be forgotten the next. A week in a political campaign can feel like a year. Time moves slowly, then speeds to the grinding halt that is election day.

I remembered to project and keep my eye toward election day and nothing else. I’d never assessed what I’d learned from almost two decades as a political spouse. I just served in the best way I could to support this passion of my lawyer-turned-politician husband.

My realization

I didn’t realize how my role as a political spouse shaped me, and how lessons in resilience, perseverance, and faith could be useful for others, regardless of whether they live in the political world or not, or whether they identify as a Democrat, Republican, or Independent.

When I gave my friend the truth – not the stock answer I’d give to a stranger in a store or in car line at my kids’ school – about how I lived a public life, she exclaimed, “You should write a book!”

I’d been a writer in some form or fashion since I graduated college with a broadcasting degree. During the 10 years I traded full-time work for at-home (not really!) parenting, I utilized communication skills in leadership roles with the Jr. League, and through board service on 5 non-profit organizations.

Still, I wasn’t a blogger or freelance writer, and I certainly wasn’t an author. It never occurred to me that my unplanned role of political spouse would give me experiences that others would find interesting, inspiring, or educational.

FIGHTING IMPOSTER SYNDROME

Deciding to write my memoir wasn’t the kind of realization that struck like lightning, but rather, it was a slow, dawning awareness that my experiences - my life - held a story that deserved to be told.

At first, I resisted. Who was I to write a memoir? I bounced the idea off my husband, who had just begun his 2nd term as mayor. I posed the question to our media consultant, who’d told me once that I was “hands down the best political spouse he’d worked with.” I asked a trusted childhood friend who’d published her own memoir about growing up with a loving mother who happened to have bi-polar disorder. She told me, “If it’s in your heart, do it!”

I knew I didn’t need permission to write, but I wanted someone to answer this question: What made my life any more worthy of the written word than anyone else’s? This question swirled around in my mind, creating a cloud of doubt that was hard to see through. But then, something happened that shifted my perspective entirely.

I started writing. I shared my first two chapters with a former newspaper co-worker who’d published 7 books, some of them award-winning. He endorsed the idea and provided valuable feedback on my writing. I kept writing, brainstorming, querying agents, and learning as much as I could about the publishing industry.

The more I wrote, the harder it became to abandon this project.

I realized that my story wasn’t just for me. It was for others, too. It was for those who had walked a similar path and needed to know they weren’t alone. It was for those who could find hope, inspiration, or even just a sense of understanding from my experiences. I understood then that sharing my story was an act of courage, but it was also an act of connection.

Once I embraced this truth, the fear and doubt began to fade. They were still there, of course, lurking in the background, but they no longer held the same power over me. Instead, I felt a sense of responsibility, not just to myself, but to my readers. My story had the potential to touch lives, and I knew I had to write it.

The journey wasn’t easy. There were days when the words flowed effortlessly, and others when I questioned everything I was writing. But through it all, I held on to that moment of realization, that understanding that my story needed to be told. It became my guiding light, pulling me through the challenging times and pushing me to keep going.

And now, as I look back on that journey, I see how vital it was to listen to that inner voice that said, “Your story matters.” It was the first step on a path that would lead me not only to complete my memoir but also to help others on their writing journeys.

YOU HAVE A STORY TO TELL

If you’re reading this and wondering if your story is worth telling, I want you to know that it absolutely is. There’s power in your experiences, and there’s someone out there who needs to hear them. It might not feel like it right now, but your story could be the very thing that someone else needs to move forward in their own life.

If you’d like to learn how you can take the first step in learning how to find the courage to bravely write, publish, and promote your life story through memoir, consider enrolling in Make Memoir Magic, which launches soon. I invite you to join the waitlist by visiting this page, which details the course, answers FAQs and shows you what you will learn over 4 weeks.

Take that first step. Embrace the idea that your story matters, and let it guide you forward. Whether you’ve already started writing or are just beginning to consider it, remember that every journey starts with a single step, and that step is realizing that your story needs to be told.