With each story I write, I feel like that one story is my life’s purpose to bring it forth into the world. It’s palpable. I feel alive and in-the-know. I’ve tapped into something, the je ne sais quoi (I do not know) of life that is more than life. It’s something you take to life. It’s truth.

Writing is something I can take to the nth degree. I don’t see a stop on it. That’s truth. When you find it, go with it. It’s not a profession. I don’t even want to analyze it. It doesn’t deserve the scrutiny. It demands to be expressed.

I’ve heard two truisms about originality. One is that if it’s not totally original, then it’s cliché. I’ve also heard said that a story does not need be original to work. I get it. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl. Some of our most beloved stories in print and screen have this storyline. So, the first truism is a lie, by default. A story does not need to be totally original to work and not be cliché.

In fact, how many of us have lived that story? Um…like most everyone has. Was your experience cliché’? No, it was very real.

What goes on behind the scenes that make a non-original story not cliché?

Truth.

If you expressed the truth of it, you’ve tapped into the je ne sais quoi of life. That’s why truth is not dogmatic. It simply can’t be.

That means the characters are true to themselves and their intentions, even though wayward, and that the author has honored their journeys. And so it goes for writing and for life itself.

In a day where we seem to demand ourselves to be totally original from our peers, we can fall into the trap of cliché—a mockery of our own potential in life and our commonality. In fact, truth does not demand potential unless it’s one’s truth. It demands only that one take it to life.

(Gosh, that was deep.)