Do you ever tell a story…

And know that you HAD a point?

I did. I do. I do it all the time. And then…

I’m sitting there staring blankly at the wall, trying to remember my point. I focus long enough to connect the dots, but the story…

Writers over CoffeeThe story went somewhere else.

The story went to the familiar, not the point.

The story went where I wanted to go, to the warm fuzzy moment of a friend reminding me that I still matter, instead of to the stage, where he was singing a hit song from long ago, and he remembered to tell the audience about singing that song in a tornado in Weatherford. There were only two people at the show who remembered fuzzy pink slippers. The slippers only mattered to two of us. But he told the story…

And I was telling the story, to show that when you connect the dots, but not everyone has lived the same dots, it makes a difference.

But, instead, I talked about the pit, and the cozy pillows, and the pillow talk between three old friends who knew about fuzzy slippers, and reminded each other about caring moments, times in life when we not only needed each other, but shared the moment, and knew the importance, the whole value of our combined existence… We connected. I mattered. They mattered.

The point, didn’t matter.

Who knows your story?

Who knows about your fuzzy pink slippers?

Who was there in the tornado?

Who cares?

The important thing is to make the connection, and make it in a way that your reader/listener understands.

But you need the connection.

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