Why Ordinary Lives Make the Best Stories

February has a funny quality to it. The year is no longer shiny and new, but it has not yet gathered much weight. The rush of January intentions has settled. The evenings are still dark. Life is back to normal rhythms. It is often in this quieter stretch that people begin to notice the stories sitting just beneath the surface.

This is usually the point when someone says, almost off-hand, “I must write that down someday.” A memory about a parent. A moment from childhood. A family habit that everyone takes for granted, even though it quietly shapes everything.

True North Stories exists because those “somedays” have a habit of drifting away.

Most people who come to me do not arrive with a grand plan to write a book. They arrive with fragments. A handful of photos. A voice message saved on their phone. A growing sense that something meaningful deserves to be held onto before it fades or changes shape.

The process always starts with a conversation. Not an interview in the formal sense, but a real, human chat. We talk about where someone grew up, the people who mattered, the moments that still carry emotion. Laughter appears quickly. So do the pauses. Both are important. Stories live in the space between what is said and what almost gets said.

From there, the work is about listening closely and shaping carefully. I write in a way that keeps the person recognisable on the page. Their rhythms. Their humour. Their honesty. Nothing is forced. Nothing is dressed up to sound impressive. The aim is simple: when they read their story back, it feels like home.

February is a good month for this kind of work because it is not noisy. It does not demand performance. It allows reflection without pressure. It suits stories that are still finding their edges.

You do not need to have lived an extraordinary life to tell a meaningful story. Ordinary lives are where the richest detail lives. The school runs. The working years. The in-jokes. The griefs that were survived quietly. The love that showed up every day without fanfare.

Those are the stories people come back to. Those are the ones worth keeping.

If this feels like the nudge you have been waiting for, this is where it begins. A conversation. A cup of tea. A story that deserves to be written down, while it is still warm in the telling.