Some places never really leave us. They stay tucked inside our hearts, waiting for a memory, a scent, a photograph, or a quiet moment to bring them back. It may be a childhood home, a grandparent’s porch, a mountain town, a favorite beach, a country road, or a place where life once felt simple and full of wonder.
This week, write about a place that still calls to you even after many years. What made it special? Who was there with you? What do you remember most—the sounds, the smells, the view, the feeling? Tell the story of the place you long to return to, even if you can only visit it now through memory.
As Katie and I bring this anniversary series to a close, we do so with full hearts and deep gratitude. Over the past few weeks, we reflected on why we started writing, how our blogs have grown and changed, and what this journey has taught us along the way.
For this final post, we wanted to reflect on what we treasured most after ten years of blogging: the readers who have encouraged us, the friendships formed along the way, the comments that have reminded us that our words reached someone’s heart, and the favorite memories that continued to inspire us.
This series has been a celebration of writing, friendship, family, growth, and the stories that shape who we are. Thank you for being a part of this journey.
I feel like I need to start there, before anything else.
(But I should probably also add some context.)
Here we are. This is Part Four of our collaboration, and honestly, it’s the one I’ve been least eager to write. Thinking about what I treasure most – the connections and the friendships, the growth, the creative community around me – that should be joyful and fun. And it is! It absolutely is. It is also overwhelming.
Ten years, y’all. I’ve been here plugging away at A Virginia Writer’s Diary for ten years. That’s a long time, and I feel like there’s just so much I could say. I could fill pages and pages, and I’m struggling trying to condense everything down.
(Seriously. This is currently my sixth attempt to even get started. If it sticks, I won’t delete this note, and everyone can laugh. Writing is hard sometimes, you guys.)
I thought I’d get very specific writing this. I don’t think I can. I think I need to come at this another way. So here it goes…
I remember when I started this blog. I felt hopeful and excited, but aimless. Then I remember when it came alive during 2020. I decided to be brave, and started posting poetry and short stories. The comments I got were all so nice, so encouraging, and they made me want to do better. So I kept posting, and I kept writing. I posted things I knew weren’t my best work, because to get anything out there at all felt better than to contribute nothing. I don’t strive for perfection anymore. I try to do better than I’ve done before, to take lessons away from lackluster dialogue and lines of poetry that don’t quite fit. I am part of this community, and I want to be there, to be present and to give something whenever I can.
It’s hard to mention specific readers and comments and followers, because while I certainly engage more prolifically with some blog friends than with others, I value everyone who stops by and leaves a like or a comment. And I enjoy reading your work, even on days when I don’t have the free time or the free hands to type a response of my own. I’m grateful to everyone out there who reads and writes and creates and inspires me to do the same.
We are a community. We’ve supported each other through the bad moments – 2020 and tough elections and tragedies and uncertainty – and through good moments, too – getting published, finding new jobs, starting at college, seeking help and therapy. I read your posts and feel like I’m not alone, and I want you to know you’re not alone, either. I see you. I read your work. I appreciate your art.
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here and doing what you do. It’s been a journey, from 2016 until now, and I can’t wait to see where we go from here.
Closing: What Comes Next?
Well, first, I can’t truly conclude things without saying that I’ve loved every bit of this collaboration with Annie, and I hope we can do something similar again soon! Please go check out her blog, Tales of a Family. It’s wonderful and heartfelt, and I’m so glad she and I have been able to connect through this project. It just encapsulates everything I enjoy about being here on WordPress.
I love creating. I love cooking and making music. I love decorating my home and making it a space that feels full and happy. I love coloring with Lucy and building towers out of her Picasso Cubes. I love writing. I love connecting with other people. Most of the time, I love people.
It’s going to be an interesting next chapter for all of us creators, I think, as we move deeper into the age of AI. When I think of what comes next, I think of how beautiful and human and imperfect we are here, putting ourselves out there in all of our not-quite-right glory. Sharing stories that go on too long or end too soon, poems that don’t sync to the rhythm we had in our heads, artworks that don’t pop the way we wanted, essays that just can’t truly convey what we’re thinking.
We are perfect in our imperfections. That sense that what we’ve created isn’t done, that it could be better, that’s our spark of the divine. We are not stagnant, and we are never totally complete. We grow and change every day. Our creating does, too.
I don’t know quite what I want to do next here on A Virginia Writer’s Diary. I want to get back to posting more often, and to writing short stories. I miss writing short stories. I’d like to start something longer form – a novel, if you will, in parts that I post once a week or once a month. I think that would be amazing, and a really interesting challenge. I want to follow more of your blogs, and engage more with what you’re creating. I live in Virginia, but I want to make a space on my little corner of the Internet that’s bigger and more than just my world. I invite you to do it with me. We’ll have fun.
I want to grow. I want my writing to grow. I want my community to grow. I want us to create together and go to bed at night knowing that no one and no machine could ever do it quite the same way.
And I want to keep going, keep growing and keep creating, for as long as I can.
Annie’s Part Four: What Matters Most
After ten years of writing, remembering, and sharing stories, I discovered that the greatest treasures are not always the stories themselves, but the people they bring into our lives. When I first started Tales of a Family, I thought I was simply preserving memories. I wrote about my family, the past, and the people who shaped me. I gathered our stories and history before time carried them too far away. At the time, I did not understand how much this journey would grow beyond my family history.
Over the years, my blog has become more than a collection of memories; it has become a place of connection. Certainly, I treasure the readers who have taken the time to visit, read, comment, and share their own memories. Every kind word, thoughtful response, and personal reflection has meant more than I could ever possibly say. Sometimes a comment has reminded me that stories have a way of reaching hearts we may never meet in person.
Those comments have encouraged me to keep writing, even when I doubted myself. They reminded me that ordinary moments can stir something familiar in someone else. A story about a porch, a mountain road, a childhood memory, a dear pet, or a person long gone can help another person remember something precious from their own life. That has always been one of the beautiful things about storytelling. Our memories may have begun as our own, but once we shared them, they often became a bridge to someone else’s heart.
Through the years, I have treasured the friendships that have grown through this journey. Some friendships began through shared stories, kind messages, blog comments, or a mutual love for writing or family history. Others deepened because storytelling gave us a new way to connect.
This blog has helped me look at life differently. I started to view my life with more gratitude. I have begun to notice the small moments, the quiet blessings, and the people who make this life so meaningful. It has helped me understand that a treasured life cannot be built only on grand events, but on everyday love.
To every reader, friend, family member, and fellow storyteller who has been a part of this journey, thank you. Your encouragement has always been one of the greatest treasures of all.
The stories may have started with my family, but over time they have become part of something much larger: a shared place of memory, connection, friendship, and heart.
And that will be something I will always treasure.
Some roads stay with us long after we have traveled them. They may be country roads lined with fence posts, gravel driveways leading to a childhood home, mountain trails that carried us into quiet places, or familiar streets we could still walk in our memory. This week, write about a road, driveway, street, trail, or journey that reminds you of home. Where did it lead? Who traveled it with you? What feelings come back when you remember it?
This week’s writing prompt invites us to remember the tools, objects, and everyday items that tell the story of the people who came before us. Maybe it was a hammer worn smooth from years of work, a sewing machine that stitched clothes and quilts, a recipe box filled with handwritten cards, a fishing pole, a tractor, a Bible, a camera, or a simple pocketknife carried with pride. These tools were more than objects; they were part of someone’s daily life, their work, their love, and the legacy they left behind.
Prompt:The Tools They Used Write about a tool, object, or keepsake connected to someone you loved. What did they use it for, and what does it help you remember?
Please join in the writing and share your stories in the comments or link them here. Your memory may help preserve a piece of family history that deserves to be remembered.
But seriously, I am. And I do have a hard time admitting it to myself, especially now that my free time is limited and I have to be deliberate with how I structure my days. I put things off until they become a problem, and then instead of just a task, I have a problem. And then I’m stressed because I have a problem, and then I put off solving the problem until the very last minute. (This also applies to writing. And laundry. And making dinner.)
You know what makes it harder to procrastinate? Having a routine, and that’s something A Virginia Writer’s Diary has given me. I post once a week these days – I used to try for three times a week – and no matter what else is happening, I get something up on the blog.
So, there’s something I’ve learned. Give yourself a task that has to get done every week, and commit to finishing it.
But that’s a small lesson, something most people learn in a similar way. Let’s dig deeper.
I’m a perfectionist. I think it’s part of why I’m a procrastinator, honestly, because I don’t like putting my work out there until it’s perfect. But perfection doesn’t exist in this world, and I’ll make myself crazy striving for something that isn’t attainable. For years, this drive to produce perfection kept me from even getting started on writing projects. I’d write a sentence or two, decide it was irredeemably terrible slop, and stop.
It became a maddening cycle, and I desperately wanted to break out of it.
So I started writing monthly short stories. Always around a yearly theme, always posted by the end of a month. I figured any story, regardless of how not-perfect, was better than no story at all. Just choosing to write was better than not writing. This routine changed my brain. I don’t write for perfection anymore. I write because I love it, and because I hope that even if a story isn’t perfect, someone else out there will love it, too. I always hope the story I write finds its way to the person who needs it. And once I post a story, it does and doesn’t belong to me anymore. It’s my work, but the way it makes people feel, the smiles and tears, the laughs, even the boredom – those belong to the readers.
I often wish I could do things better. I wish I were a better writer, faster and more adept at dialogue and more artful with my words and more lyrical with my sentences. I wish I were a better mother, and a better person. I try to be kind, to be present, to be patient, to be loving. I succeed more times than I don’t. I do the work. In all things, I do the work. And I think that’s my biggest lesson from blogging for ten years: DO. THE. WORK.
It’s as simple and as difficult as that. Show up. Try. If you fail, try again. Keep trying. Keep working.
If I do nothing else in a day, I always do the work.
Annie’s Section: The Lessons I Have Discovered
Some journeys start from the heart with excitement, expectations, and growing anticipation of where the trail might lead. For me, this writing adventure has grown and changed, helping me discover so much about my family, my dreams, and my hopes for the future. Sometimes the most meaningful journeys begin before we fully understand where they are taking us.
Ten years ago, I began this blog with a collection of memories and a desire to keep them from disappearing. I did not have a detailed plan or an understanding of where this journey might lead. I only knew that the people, places, and moments that influenced my life deserved to be remembered.
Over the years, Tales of a Family has grown and changed, and so have I. Looking back now, I realize that writing these stories has taught me almost as much about myself as it has about my family.
One of the first lessons I discovered was that ordinary lives give rise to extraordinary stories. Stories do not need to be dramatic or perfect to matter. Some of the best events unfold on an ordinary day, just another square on the calendar when nothing exciting was planned. But then life offers us a joyful glimpse of everyday love.
Those are the precious moments spent together while sitting on porches, enjoying coffee around a kitchen table, or watching the naughty antics of grandchildren or the playful antics of dachshund pups. Those ordinary moments of life often become the anecdotes we treasure most.
Memories become clearer when we write them down. It helps me remember the details I do not want to forget, the voices, expressions, traditions, and personalities of the people I cherish, as well as the places and experiences that molded my life.
Writing prompts about songs, photographs, special places, family conversations, and familiar trinkets open the door to an entirely new story. One memory often leads to another, revealing details that have been quietly waiting to be revealed. Writing simply does not record our histories; it helps us to return to them, understand them, and see them in a whole new light.
Stories connect the generations. Every story I preserve provides my family, friends, and readers with a glimpse of the people who lived amazing lives so long ago. Each tale preserves the voices that may otherwise be lost. When sharing my stories, I help future generations grasp where they came from. These stories become knit into the fabric of our everyday lives, bringing to mind the strength, courage, and love handed down to us as a precious gift.
Another lesson I found was that writing takes courage. While some stories are joyful, others involve grief, regret, loss, or difficult lessons. Writing honestly means that I must be vulnerable, and that was a difficult task. There are times when returning to a moment in time means returning to emotions that I thought I had stowed safely away. When we are willing to write from the heart, others recognize a piece of their own lives within our stories. And often, our most personal stories are the ones that deeply touch my readers.
Finding my voice has also been a piece of this journey. I wanted my writing to have a creative confidence and style that was all my own. Although it required practice and time, I believe my writing has become warmer, more confident, and more reflective. And while I believe I still have much to learn, I trust the ways I tell my tales. A writer’s voice develops through writing, and not waiting until it’s perfect.
I found that creativity can begin at any age. My blog has grown into more than a place to record memories. It has encouraged me to write fiction, poetry, short stories, and flash fiction. It inspired me to write short stories for a recent family book, with another in the works. It has also given me a new dream: writing a novel. There has never been an age limit on discovering a new dream or writing a new chapter.
Over time, I learned that readers want connection, not perfection. Not every sentence has to be flawless; my readers want stories that are genuine, familiar, and heartfelt. People remember how a story made them feel, and that connection is one of the greatest gifts a writer can offer.
Perhaps, most importantly, writing has helped me find my way home. Home represents my faith, my family, my friends, Colorado, the mountains, the treasured memories, and even the person I have become through all the seasons of life. Sometimes we begin writing to find our stories, but the stories help us discover ourselves.
After ten years, I understand that storytelling has become not just something I do; it has become a part of who I am. I have learned to value ordinary moments, trust my own voice, and write even when the words are imperfect.
Most of all, I learned that our stories matter. They connect us to the past, bring meaning to the present, and leave something behind for those who come after us.
I may not know where the next ten years will lead, but I know that there are memories lingering waiting to be revealed, characters waiting to come to life, and stories waiting to be told.
This week’s writing prompt invites us to remember the quiet heroes in our lives—the people who may not have asked for attention, but whose love, strength, kindness, or steady example made a lasting difference. Sometimes a hero is not the loudest person in the room, but the one who shows up, works hard, loves faithfully, and leaves behind a legacy that continues to guide us. Think about someone in your family or community whose life deserves to be remembered.
Prompt:A Quiet Hero Write about someone in your family who may not have received much attention but made a difference.
Please share your stories in the comments and link them here. Your memory may help honor a quiet hero whose story still deserves to be told.
Book Two of Tales of a Family continues the journey through memory, family history, and the stories that shape who we are. This collection gathers more treasured moments, old photographs, family voices, and reflections from the past, weaving them together with love, humor, heartache, and gratitude. From the people who came before us to the memories we carry forward, this book is a celebration of roots, resilience, and the quiet beauty of finding our way home through story.
My goal is to have it complete by the end of the summer…
This year marks a special milestone for Tales of a Family: Finding My Way Home—ten years of gathering stories, honoring memories, and finding my way back through the people and places that shaped me. What began as a simple desire to preserve family history has grown into a beautiful journey of writing, remembering, healing, and connecting with others who believe our stories matter. To celebrate this anniversary, I have given the blog a fresh new look that feels more like home: softer, warmer, and filled with the same heart, heritage, and storytelling spirit that inspired it from the beginning. I hope this updated space invites you to linger, read, remember, and maybe even begin writing a few stories of your own.
This week’s writing prompt invites us to pause and remember a man who left an imprint on our hearts. He may have been a father, grandfather, uncle, brother, neighbor, teacher, or family friend—someone whose words, actions, humor, kindness, or quiet strength still live in our memories. Sometimes the men we remember most are not remembered for grand gestures, but for the way they showed up, worked hard, loved their people, and taught us something about life without even knowing it.
Prompt:The Man I Remember Write about a man who influenced your life. What do you remember most about him?
Please join in the writing and share your stories in the comments or link them here. Your memory may help honor someone whose story deserves to live on.
I’m excited to revive a feature on Tales of a Family: Finding My Way Home: monthly writing prompts for anyone who wants to preserve their own family stories. Each month, I’ll share simple prompts to help you remember the people, places, lessons, and little moments that shaped your life. Some stories may begin with an old photograph, a favorite recipe, a family saying, or a memory that has been waiting quietly to be written. I hope you’ll write along with me, share your stories, and link them here so we can celebrate the beautiful heritage we are creating one memory at a time.
