I Build Stories

Picture of a puppy studying. I know. Awesome.
I was thinking about something as I completed my two-mile run to nowhere on the treadmill this morning:

I build stories.

I’m very proud of the stories I build. But one thing is absolutely certain: though they are¬†ultimately my own, they were not built alone.

They started with my parents, who kickstarted my imagination by reading books to me and encouraging me to be creative.

They were enhanced by the wonderful teachers I had while attending public school.

They were funded by the grants, student loans, work study programs and scholarships I received so that I could go to college.

They are assisted by my husband, my first and last editor.

They are improved by the brainstorming and critique sessions with my fellow partners in crime.

They are published by my fellow writers who come together in amazing ways to promote each other’s work, fund charitable projects, and to celebrate a mutual love of reading and writing.

There is no question I’ve benefitted greatly from the larger community of which I’ve been a part, both public and private. For that, I’m thankful.

I build stories, but I do not build them alone. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Holly West

One Comment

  1. In these strangely divisive days it is good to be reminded of the fantastic communities of folk it takes to raise a story. It does in deed take a village. Glad to be in this village with you.

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