"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."

Be the writer of your own story.

Photo by Keyur Hardas on Unsplash

This is Your Fucking Story.

So…

If your life was a novel, how would it read?

Would you be the daring protagonist barreling toward destiny?
The relatable side character quietly shaping the plot from the margins?
The narrator who occasionally forgets she’s narrating — distracted by snacks, dogs, and existential dread?

Here’s the thing:
Whether or not you meant to, you’re already writing…

(Plot holes? Absolutely. Character development arcs that don't happen in a straight line? Every day.)

The only real question is — what chapter are you living right now?

Wanna find out?

"I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking." - Joan Didion

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Cast Yourself

If you had to name the energy you're carrying right now, which archetype would you claim?

The Wanderer — charting your path one messy step at a time, no map required.
The Warrior — dragging yourself across the finish line because quitting isn't your style.
The Dreamer — spinning gold out of daydreams and half-formed ideas.
The Healer — carrying grief and hope at the same time, somehow still moving forward.
The Creator — building something out of the rubble, again, and again, and again. Sigh.

Or maybe you're something else entirely — an archetype that hasn’t been named yet, because you’re still inventing it.

(Main Character-ish rules: there are no fucking rules.)

"Character is plot, plot is character." F. Scott Fitzgerald

Name Your Chapter

If this season of your life had a title, what would it be?

• Mother Fucking Irony

• Notes from the Waiting Room

• Becoming (Much to My Chagrin)

• Quietly Doing the Work Nobody Claps For

• The Comeback Chapter (With Wine)

Maybe your chapter doesn’t sound impressive. Yet.
Maybe it feels too quiet, too complicated, too unfinished.

But that’s the thing about living inside the story — it never feels as clear while you’re still writing it.

"Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."
— E.L. Doctorow

Choose Your Plot Device

Every main character has something they carry — a symbol of where they are, and where they’re headed.

What’s yours?

• A dog-eared book you keep rereading

• A playlist you don’t even admit you listen to

• A habit you’re trying (and mostly failing) to make stick

• A tiny flicker of hope you’re protecting like it’s made of glass

• An invisible suit of armor made out of blurring boundaries

These aren’t just props.
They're artifacts of survival. Liferafts. Talismans. Companions.

"A character is revealed by the casual details the author chooses to notice." — Henry James

Soundtrack Your Story

Now imagine the Netflix adaptation of this chapter.

What’s playing in the background?

• Lo-fi beats humming while you quietly rebuild yourself?

• An epic cinematic score swelling as you finally choose yourself?

• Heartbreak anthems because growth still hurts sometimes?

• Road trip songs for detours you didn’t plan but needed?

• Victory music because — somehow, unbelievably — you're still here?

Whatever’s playing — that's your anthem.

"Music can tell you what a character is feeling when words fail." — John Williams, composer Star Wars and Harry Potter

Forecast Your Weather

If you had to describe the emotional weather of your story right now, what would it be?

• Heavy fog with the occasional clearing

• Thunderstorms that break open something needed

• A still, cold morning before anything blooms

• Spring air tangled with leftover winter

• Blazing sun and high winds carrying change faster than you planned

Some seasons roar. Some whisper. Some don't even announce themselves until much later, when you look back and realize oh — that’s when everything shifted.

"Remember to get the weather in your damn book—weather is very important." — Ernest Hemingway

You are already living (and writing) this story…
Even when you can’t see the ending yet.
Even when you’re stuck mid-scene, mid-sentence, mid-rewrite.
Even when you’re convinced this part doesn’t matter.

You're the writer.
You're the hero.
You're the editor.

You decide what this chapter means — not by what happens next, but by how you live it right now.

"The little things people do and say are the things that reveal their souls." —Anton Chekhov

An Invitation

In the comments:
What’s the title of your current chapter?
What song would be playing over your Netflix montage?
And what’s the weather where you are — real or imagined?

Juli Brenning is nothing more than an extra ordinary human who writes the Substack aptly and ridiculously titled, Juli Brenning.