Why Do We Write?

Do you wonder if all the work is worth it? If crafting stories—out of memory, imagination, or a mix of both—truly makes a difference? This article is for you. You may be doubting your role as a storyteller, so this is your sign and a fresh reminder of just how powerful your words can be.

We write not only to tell stories, but to remember ourselves. To shape meaning from the chaos. To say: I was here. This is what I saw. This is what I felt. And to invite others to whisper back: Me too. If you’ve ever curled up with a good book and lost track of time, then you already know what I believe deep down: stories are little windows to the world. And whether you’re reading or writing, when you peer through that window—what you’re really seeing is a piece of someone’s heart.

Why Are Stories So Powerful?

We often think of stories as “just” entertainment. But in reality, stories teach, comfort, provoke, and heal.

A novel that transports someone out of a difficult day.
A memoir that says, You’re not alone.
A children’s story that sparks wonder.
A fantasy epic that reminds readers of bravery they forgot they had.

That’s no small thing.

It’s easy to forget, amid deadlines and drafts, just how deeply human storytelling is. Stories are how we share knowledge. Stories are how we connect across time, culture, and experience. Without stories, we lose a part of what makes us us.

And in today’s noisy, fast-moving world, I think we need those moments more than ever. We need to be reminded of our shared humanity, our everyday hopes and heartaches. Stories do that. They anchor us and widen us all at once. Every story you tell holds the power to reach beyond its pages.

Even if it only touches one person—that is enough.

Finding The Beauty in the Ordinary

Not every story has to be grand or sweeping. Some of my favorites are the small, sweet tales from my childhood bookshelf that pay attention to simple things: a change in the wind, a shared smile, a cup of tea left steaming by the window, the joy of tending vegetables in Peter Rabbit’s garden.

As an editor, I often see writers worrying that their stories aren’t “big” enough. But here’s the truth: small stories can carry great weight. And oftentimes the softest voice lingers the longest.

If your words come from a place of truth, they matter. If your story is sincere, it’s already enough.

Why Writers Sometimes Forget This (And How to Remember)

Creative work can feel isolating. We draft, revise, and wrestle with words in solitude, wondering if anyone will care. It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that writing is an offering—one that ripples outward, often in ways you’ll never fully see.

When you start doubting whether your words matter, try to remember:

• The story you’re struggling to tell may be the exact one someone else is waiting for.
• Your unique perspective adds something to the world that no one else can.
• Even imperfect stories have the power to move hearts.

You don’t have to be the next great literary giant. You only have to be honest—and brave enough to share.

I’ve been tempted to think this way myself, that my stories are too small, or not relevant enough. But what if your story becomes someone’s comfort, someone’s catalyst? You may never know the reach. But the reach is real. 

What surprised me about writing my children’s stories was how they connected me not just to children, but to the child within so many adults—those who long for gentleness in the world, who crave family warmth and innocent wonder, who still believe that words can work a kind of magic.

Practical Ways to Reconnect to Your Why

If you’re feeling stuck or discouraged, here are three small but powerful ways to re-anchor yourself in the heart of storytelling:

1. Revisit a story that changed you.
Reread a book, essay, or poem that made a difference in your life. Notice how it made you feel. Someone else’s courage to write that story created a moment for you. Now, you get to pay that gift forward.

2. Write a letter to one reader.
Picture a single person who might need your story. Write directly to them. Forget the masses; focus on the human heart you want to touch.

3. Remind yourself: The world needs more voices, not fewer.
There is always room for another story, another point of view, another thread of connection. Your voice matters. Your story matters.

In a Noisy World, Stories Are Still Sacred

The world feels noisy sometimes. Fast. Fractured.
But stories invite us to slow down.
To sit with each other. To listen. To understand.

Your storytelling is an act of hope.
It’s a way of saying, Here’s what I’ve seen. Here’s what I’ve imagined. Here’s something I want to share with you. And that offering—however simple, however small—can light the dark for someone else. So if you’re wondering whether your writing matters, let me tell you plainly:

It does. It absolutely does.
Keep telling your stories. The world is better for it.

“Keep writing, keep growing—your story is worth the care it takes.”

—

Susan