Last August, I was driving my son to the airport for his senior year in college. We were talking about my upcoming book launch, who would be joining the Zoom, and how this whole publishing-a-book-thing was starting to feel.
“I’m nervous, Charlie. But I’m really trying to trust that my story will land in the right hands and inspire people to tell their story.”
Read MoreWhen I was 17 years old, a school counselor pulled me into his office and asked me, “Are you okay?” I couldn’t speak. I was too afraid. But the tears flowed. That day, he saw my struggle. He felt my sadness. And despite our differences, he saw me as the human I am.
Read More“I’m going to write my story this year for my kids,” she announces as we’re changing out of our bathing suits, adding, “You inspired me.”
My teeth are chattering. My shoulders are shivering. “Oh that makes me so happy! Thank you for telling me,” I respond as the lights on my Happy New Year headband blink.
Stop! Stay out of my life!
I had just asked if he was wearing his retainer. I knew in my bones it wasn’t a good idea to ask my 19-year-old son who had just started college this question, but I couldn’t help myself. Isn’t it my job to make sure everything is okay?
Turns out, the answer is… well, you know the answer. It’s not my job.
Read MoreMy father was the kind of guy who’d ask for the toll taker's name as his car was on a steady roll through the gate. He’d make eye contact with the man selling the Sunday paper and ask for his name as he was handing him a quarter. He’d shake hands with the waiter, learn the names of their children, and tip as generously as possible.
Read MoreI was standing in front of Gate 201, catching my breath. I’d run through the busy terminal expecting a long line only to find one person at the other end: the United gate agent. As she lifted her portable radio to make an announcement, I leaned over, unzipped my carry-on, and stuck my hand in the sea of clothes stuffed inside.
Read MoreI learned how to help people tell their story by asking one simple question: What is it like to be in your shoes?
This book, this story—is a response to years of learning how to help people go deeper. This time, the story is my own.
I wrote this little book because my stories were starting to spill out of my heart and onto the page. And because I believe every one’s story is meant to be heard, including mine.
Every now and again I open my mouth and fire comes out.
Even on summer vacation.
My husband and I were sitting on our deck looking at the harbor, listening to the hum of the lobster boats and savoring the time away from our day to day lives.
Read MoreMost of us get it wrong
Most of us think we need to know exactly what to say
to feel in control
to get our point across
to get the job
to get the date
to get the standing ovation
to be the talk of the town
Read MoreOver spring break, my husband Duncan, and our kids Joey and Kate, went to see our oldest son Charlie who is studying in Spain this semester. We met his host family in Barcelona, ate tapas in the Gothic quarter, and flew to the little island of Mallorca for three days.
And yet the highlight of the trip wasn’t just where we were, but what happened on a day trip up to the northern tip of the island.
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I was sitting at my desk on Friday afternoon wondering whether I should clean out my inbox or work on my taxes when I saw the words “My AI is being an A-hole” pop up in the upper right corner of my screen and I laughed out loud.
Read MoreDuring COVID, I wrote a story.
Yes, it was three years ago when our daily lives changed dramatically… (Remember when they said the kids would be home for two whole weeks?).
I sat my butt down in my chair, morning after morning, and put my story into words.
Read MoreGrowing up, my dad had lots of sayings but ‘with privilege goes responsibility’ was one of his favorites. This simple statement led me to working with a nonprofit for 20 years helping kids chart a new course for their lives.
Read MoreI was sitting on Zoom listening to a social entrepreneur talk about slogging through the years of building, growing and leading his organization from the ground up.
I was focused on his story and couldn’t help but be reminded of my early years of building Summer Search, a national nonprofit. Yes, I hear his experiences and think of my own. That’s what stories do. You listen and find connections. It’s natural. It’s just how our human brains and hearts work.
Read MoreIt’s time to sit down and write about yourself -- an About page, your bio, a new LinkedIn summary. You think, this is going to be simple... it’s my life, right?
Fast forward 3 hours and…
Why can’t I come up with more than what’s on my resume?
Blech, this sounds salesy!
How do I bring my unique voice to this?
You are not alone in these thoughts. I hear them all the time. We start trying to write about ourselves for LinkedIn or a cover letter or a bio or whatever (what many of us call “The Blurb”) and we slide into “pitching” ourselves.
Read More“It finally connected, Katherine,” my friend-and-also-client says to me.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, when I listened to the toast you gave your husband, I got what you’ve been telling me - that I really don’t need to write a script.”
Read More“Katherine, are you still coaching executives?” I haven’t seen my son’s fifth grade teacher for years but I stop walking so she can catch up to me.
“Yeah actually people come to me to help them tell their story,” and I add, “It’s called story coaching.”
“Oh that’s right,” she says, “you help people become.” Her brown eyes twinkle as I pause, expecting her to finish her sentence. But that was it. She doesn’t say another word.
Read MoreDuring those first months of shutdown when business was light, life was heavy and I was grateful even for the ping of a stranger on Linked In, I was invited to present to a group working with organ donors. The title of the webinar was The Art and Soul of Storytelling.
Read MoreI raced up two flights of stairs. I had 12 minutes to shower and be ready for the workshop starting at 10am. No one wants to look at wet stringy hair on Zoom but I pushed that thought aside as I instinctively massaged my head with shampoo.
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