Having A Story Is Not The Same Thing As Having a Book
My husband is wearing a continuous glucose monitor right now, not because he’s diabetic or even pre-diabetic, but because he’s working on improving his health. This data will give him information to make decisions.
I’ve been watching him navigate it with the fascination of someone who has been doing this for forty-six years. He’s smart, research-minded, and genuinely interested in what the numbers mean. But he still has almost no context for what he’s looking at, outside of what he’s learned on YouTube.
It’s not that he’s not capable, but he’s never had to learn this stuff.
I have a lived PhD in this world. Forty-six years of being a Type 1 diabetic give me an understanding of how protein hits differently than carbohydrate, how stress impacts the number, how altitude, dehydration, and illness all require a completely different approach. I don’t think about most of it consciously anymore. It’s just how I manage my body.
When he brings me his data, I don’t tell him what it means for him. I give him context. I say: I don’t know exactly how this impacts someone without diabetes, but for a Type 1, this is what that number means. This is what’s probably happening and what I’d be looking at.
I give him the framework he doesn’t have yet.
And this is what I do with the women I coach.
They come to me with years, even decades of living inside their story. They know every detail, every decision point, and the conversations that changed everything. They have a PhD in their own experience. What they don’t have is the outside perspective. They can’t see the shape of it because they’ve been inside it too long.
Having a story is not the same as having a book.
A story is what happened. A book is what it means for someone who wasn’t there. That gap, between living the experience and knowing how to convey it to a reader, is not a gap in courage, talent, or time. It’s a gap in context. And context is exactly what someone on the outside can give you, and is what is needed to reach your ideal reader.
When a woman shares her story with me, I’m not evaluating whether it’s worthy or whether she’s a good enough writer. I’m doing what I do with my husband’s glucose data. I’m looking at what she has and saying: here’s what I see. Here’s what a reader will understand. Here’s what matters and what it could be shaped into.
This was originally published on Substack. To receive all of the posts, subscribe here.
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like these:
-
You Don’t Think of Yourself as a Writer. You Just Keep Writing Things Down.
My son is about to get married, and in the middle of the countdown, I felt something I knew I’d want to remember later. So I opened a new file on my computer, titled it 260817_wedding feelings, and gave myself 15 minutes to write, which generally amounts to about 500…
-
She Says She Doesn’t Need a Coach Yet
For the woman asking, “When should I hire a book coach?” I see a lot of women sitting on the sidelines, waiting to get into the game. Most of the time, when they’re being honest, they’re afraid to reach out because they don’t have a draft yet, or they’re still thinking…
-
How Do I Start Writing a Memoir When I Have Too Many Stories?
My daughter’s birthday was the subject of a post on my Reflections from a Recovering Perfectionist Substack, and I realized that it only told a very small part of the story. What started as a blog over 25 years ago left out a lot of context, the parts that are hard…
