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You had to maximize joy when it fluttered into your life. You had to honor it. And savor it. And not stomp it to death by reminding everyone of everything you’d lost.
I had a theory that we gravitate toward the stories we need in life. Whatever we’re longing for—adventure, excitement, emotion, connection—we turn
to stories that help us find it. Whatever questions we’re struggling with—sometimes questions so deep, we don’t even really know we’re asking them—we look for answers in stories.
“Believing in things that aren’t real? Making something out of nothing? Connecting dots that don’t need or want to be connected? That’s what all the best writers do.”
“Whatever story you tell yourself about your life, that’s the one that’ll be true.”
“I would write a hundred happy endings for us if I could.”
Tragedy is a given. There is no version of human life that doesn’t involve reams of it.
“There it is. The whole trick to life. Be aggressively, loudly, unapologetically grateful.”
It’s all about the details you notice. And the joys you savor. And the hope you refuse to give up on. It’s all about writing the very best story of your life. Not just how you live it—but how you choose to tell it.