What do you want your reader or listener to think, feel, and do?

Sometimes we share stories for no reason other than enjoyment, but most of the time, something in your story will inspire your audience to think, feel, or do something.

Last week the hubby and I told our friends a story about some hilarious people we sat next to in the the…

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Here’s the replay for the Story Space Live session on 18^th March – it’s in two parts!

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Here’s the prompt I used:

Tell me about a time when you started something new. How did it feel?

Two years ago, a friend invited me to join an online writing community. It was super easy to join, welcoming, and low-pressure. I had no idea it would lead me somewhere I’d never been before. Literally.

The community is called Heart Leap, run by the wonderful Suzy Walker. It’s a space for writers and creatives who want to build a regular writing practice. We meet online four times a week for an hour and write together. There’s no sharing (unless you want to), just an encouraging space to get words on the page. We connect, support, and champion each other. It’s a beautiful thing to be a part of.

But then last year, the Heart Leap community led me somewhere new, a little more outside my comfort zone.

The Alnwick Story Fest. An entire weekend in the Northeast of England, full of author talks and events. I was excited to go. I’d heard people in the Heart Leap community raving about it the year before, and I’d had a serious case of FOMO (fear of missing out). Listening to authors talking about their books and chatting to fellow writers and creators is one of my favourite things, so I decided to be brave and try it out.

I was also a little nervous. Meeting people in real life who you’ve only ever met online can be strange. But there would be a few people there I’d met in person before, and we’d all have writing in common. Even the most introverted writers can talk about writing and books at length without too much difficulty.

The trip took some planning. Getting there from the Midlands took three trains, two buses, and a fair amount of walking, so I was feeling triumphant when I finally arrived. I find it helpful to anchor myself in familiar things like my favourite tea bags and dark chocolate, planning my route, and the pleasure of solo train journeys.

One of my favourite parts of doing something new is the chance to explore. I love walking or running around a place I’ve never been before, discovering all its nooks and crannies. Alnwick has many, including the castle (of Harry Potter fame) and the beautiful gardens. Once you’ve explored somewhere for the first time, you can never get quite the same feeling again. So it’s always a delightful experience.

And the Heart Leap crew was, of course, wonderful. They welcomed me with (literal) open arms. Everyone was so pleased to see each other; I had lovely conversations and made new friends.

Last week, I went back to Alnwick Story Fest for the second time, and it was a different experience. I was even more excited to go and not nervous at all.

I stayed with friends, which was an absolute joy. I spent the whole weekend in rich, nourishing conversations with women who get me. Relationships have developed from online connections and mutual interests into something richer. We created a sense of belonging. And we laughed a lot.

I noticed something else. We have become a tribe.

A tribe of women who support and champion each other. Who share our hearts: the good, the bad, and everything in the messy middle.

I’m so grateful I was invited to join the Heart Leap community, and that I chose to be a little brave and make that first trip to Alnwick on my own. Last year, I enjoyed the starting energy, the sense of adventure, and discovery. But I loved the depth and richness of this second year even more.

How do you feel about starting something new? Perhaps it feels daunting; yes, it takes energy and, often, courage. But I think it’s usually worth it.

Once we’ve started something new, it’s never completely new again. The energy changes. After that, we’re building on what we started before, creating more depth, richness, and belonging.

With love,

Claire x

P.S. If you’re a paid subscriber, keep reading for notes on how I crafted this story and techniques you can apply to your own writing and content creation.

P.P.S. This story is part of a broader topic in the paid community this month about good beginnings. If you’d like to join us, you can find out more here.

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Spring has sprung! I am happy to see the start of a new season. I’m enjoying more light at each end of the day, blossoms on the trees and the slightly warmer sun on my face. Whereas winter was the season for twinkly lights, sitting in front of a cozy fire and hibernating, spring is the season for new beginnings.

For our stories, beginn…

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On the boat, we got chatting to a lovely woman called Elijah. She was on a four-day solo trip from Portland with her impressive-looking camera. Elijah shared some of her best bear and whale-watching tips with us and a few of her amazing photos.

We arrived at the jetty and walked for 30 minutes through the humid forest to reach the cove. I quickly realised the hot springs ‘cove’ was more of a narrow, slippery crevice in the rocks. Steam rose from the sulfurous water, making it feel like we’d travelled back in time and should be on the lookout for creatures from the Jurassic era.

Our youngest tipped one toe in the water and declared there was no way she was going any further. Our two teenagers ventured through the deepest part of the rock crevice and into the shallows, where they shouted for me to follow. I successfully navigated my way around about a dozen strangers, my feet slowly adjusting to the water temperature. This isn’t too bad, I thought as I put my foot down on the next rock.

My foot disappeared from under me like a cartoon character stepping on a banana skin, and I landed with full force on my backside. All the air was knocked out of me.

‘Are you okay?’ I could hear Elijah call from behind me.

I waved my arm above my head. ‘I’m fine, just need a minute.’

I sat on the offending rock for several minutes, eyes watering, taking deep breaths to refill my lungs. I wasn’t really fine. The combination of shock and the temperature of the water was making me feel light-headed.

I knew I needed to get back to dry land ASAP. Because, the thing is, I have some experience in the fainting department...

Despite this I was determined I could do it alone, capable, grown up person that I am. I pushed myself to standing, winced at the throbbing pain at the base of my spine, and took a step back into the hot water in the direction I’d come in.

After one step, I came to the VERY quick realisation that if I didn’t ask for help; I was going to pass out. Then a coccyx injury would be the least of my problems.

So I swallowed my pride and shouted. ‘I need help!’

Most of my fellow cove occupants froze, but two women, including my new friend, Elijah, grabbed me and lowered me carefully onto a rock.

The story ended well. My two saviours sent for the hubby (don’t worry, she does this all the time) and together they hauled me out to safety. Elijah supplied much-needed water and flapjacks to bring my blood sugar up. It didn’t spoil the rest of the holiday, although my poor coccyx took a good five months to feel normal again, and the flight home was the most uncomfortable nine hours I’ve ever spent on a plane.

I came away from my eventful hot springs adventure with one important lesson: although I am fiercely independent; I know I can’t do everything alone. When you’re standing in a slippery rock crevice full of boiling water on the brink of passing out, it’s okay to ask for help. Even if you have to ask swimwear-clad strangers.

Do you find easy to ask for help, or do you literally have to be in hot water? Hit reply; I’d love to hear your story.

With love,

Claire x

P.S. If you’re a paid subscriber, keep reading for notes on how I crafted this story and techniques you can apply to your own writing.

P.P.S. This story is part of a broader topic in the paid community this month about where to find ideas for your stories and content. If you’d like to join us, you can find out more here.

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Isn’t it lovely to greet February? I don’t know about you, but January felt like a long month. Dark, grey, and cold. Although January is of course the first month of a new year, I rarely have the energy for anything new. It’s more of an ‘ease ourselves in’ kind of month.

But now we have tipped over into the second month of the year and…

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In yesterday’s live session in The Story Space, we explored how to make your stories more inviting for your audience. (Members can watch the replay here.)

Below, I’m sharing my response to the prompt we worked with.

The invitation arrived during a casual conversation on my friend’s sofa one evening. We were chatting about the upcoming event she was organising. It was a retreat at our church, including stalls, food and drink, and a chance to hang out with friends. There would also be a few women speaking on the theme of ‘honest stories’.

‘That sounds brilliant,’ I said. ‘Personal stories are so powerful.’

‘Would you like to share yours?’ said my friend innocently.

My heart jumped in the way it sometimes does when a slightly scary opportunity presents itself. ‘Um... yes, okay. I could do that.’

It was a few weeks until the event. I carefully typed out what I wanted to say and practised it out loud. I’d done public speaking during my career as a lawyer, so I wasn’t too afraid of the stage or the microphone, but I felt nervous about what I wanted to say.

It was the story of my mental health plummeting following the birth of our third child. How I felt like a failure all the time and how running, people close to me, my faith, going back to work and therapy helped me through that season.

I felt okay being vulnerable, but I knew my story wasn’t earth-shattering or unique. It all sounded pretty ordinary. Would people really want to hear my story when I was sure so many others had experienced something similar?

The day of the event arrived, and I climbed onto the stage, clutching my notes. Nerves mixed with excitement bubbled in my chest. I took the mic and squinted through the lights at the audience. It was probably a good thing I couldn’t see them very well. I took a deep breath and shared my story.

Afterwards, I returned to my seat, relieved and more than a little overwhelmed by the response. Hugs and tears from friends who said they were proud of me. And women I didn’t know thanking me for sharing my heart so openly. Some asked how I’d found the courage to do it. And how did I know what to say?

Others said they felt seen. Some said they felt stronger and less alone after hearing my story. What a privilege.

The reason this invitation is one of the best I’ve ever received is that it was an invitation to step into my story and recognise the value and purpose in it. The invitation gave me the courage to share some painful moments, but in doing so, my ordinary story offered something of value to someone else. So that made it worth it.

I realised our stories are invitations to those who hear them—into connection, empathy, and maybe even inspiration to take action.

That invitation was also the catalyst for the work I do now: helping others get their stories out into the world.

I'd love to hear about the best invitation you've ever received. Hit reply and share your story. I always love hearing from you.

If you’re a paid subscriber, keep reading for behind-the-scenes notes on how I crafted this story and techniques you can apply to your own writing.

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Happy New Year! I hope you have stepped into January feeling rested after the festive season. Or perhaps you are creating time for more hibernation.

January feels like an invitation. Perhaps a nudge to start something new or make a change. Or an invitation to rest and reset. Maybe the new year is inviting you to stop or leave something…

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How are you feeling in this final month of the year?

December can be a busy and stressful month. As I write this, I’m the latest victim of a virus which has been working its way through the house. Thankfully, it hasn’t moved beyond a head cold, but it has reminded me how important it is to take care of myself during this season.

Our the…

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Our theme for this month is traditions.

From Spark to Story is where I offer my response to one of this month’s prompts with a few notes, so you can see how I’ve crafted parts of my story. Here’s a link to this month’s Story Spark prompts as a reminder.

I used two prompts:

What is your favourite childhood tradition?

Why is it meaningful to you?

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Our theme for this month is: traditions

It feels like it’s a good season to think about traditions. Halloween has just been and gone and today is Guy Fawkes night here in the U.K. Christmas is only 50 days away! There are traditions all around us throughout the year.

A tradition is a behaviour, belief or custom passed down from one generation to another, often with symbolic meaning.

Our traditions can provide us with a rich source of stories. They can evoke all kinds of memories, (perhaps good or bad). Sometimes our traditions change over time as our lives and families evolve.

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Some inspiration from Simon Sinek... We often start by talking about WHAT we’re doing and HOW we’re going to do it. But these things won’t inspire others to take action.

When we talk about the WHY behind what we’re doing, we connect to our audience through emotion and build trust.

We went deeper…

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• What why stories are and why they’re important.

• Ideas and prompts to get started.

• Expanding, developing and refining ideas.

• Optional feedback and questions.

• Planning next steps and intentions.

I’d love to see you there.

Here’s the link to join: https://teams.live.com/meet/934137372522?p=pnu7nLl9kdCbuuQ…

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Recordings will be posted in the membership area afterwards so you can catch up in your own time if you can’t make it live.

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I’m so glad you’re here. Our stories are valuable and powerful.

When we find our voices and share our stories, we help others feel seen, understood, and inspired to act. And we connect with ourselves in a deeper way.

We are all natural storytellers. But we need support, encouragement and expertise to grow.

Hi, I’m Claire. I’m a…

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