How To Write Your Sequel & Believe In Yourself

Somewhere along the way, you got a little lost. One day, you woke up, looked around, and realized you weren’t quite sure how you got here. Did you fall asleep through the audiobook of your life? Skip some chapters? What about the things you swore you would do by age 30 or page 40? 

Everyone gets a little lost, but not everyone recognizes it in order to make a difference. 

Each day, you’re writing your story. The actions you take, the words you choose, and even the thoughts you let take up space in your mind, it’s all a part of the story you tell yourself and the one you tell the world. How you approach your days is how you approach your life. But, then, what happens when this story goes off course? 

I bet you can remember when you were younger, and anything felt possible. Like, I mean anything. Maybe you wanted to have an ice cream truck on the moon. Or perhaps you wanted to be a unicorn trainer. Or maybe you simply wanted to be seen for who you were. It all felt within reach, once upon a time.

Back then, your innocent mind was free of the doubts and the worries that wound up taking up so much space in your head. But we all know that repetition doesn’t make for a good story, so it’s time to stop repeating the same excuses. You see, it takes a change, to bring the story back on course. 

But I believe you deserve more than just a climax that leads to a happy ending. 

Because you owe it to yourself to begin another story that feels far more like you. You deserve more than finishing the story you’re in (if you don't want to) just because it’s easier or expected of you. You owe it to yourself to go after what you want and not be limited by what came before.

So, forget the turning point. It’s time for your sequel.  

“Sounds great, Sonya, but how the heck do I do that?” I hear you; I do because I was you. In fact, this is the beginning of my sequel too. 

You see, I spent almost 30 years of my 30-year life pretending I wasn’t a writer. If you Google my name, you can find (honestly) hundreds of articles I’ve written. You can even find a poetry book I self-published in 8th grade. And you can see my LinkedIn that lists all of my earlier experiences that danced around writing but never claimed it. 

I used to be embarrassed to be a writer. I remember I once won a poetry competition in high school and hid my head under my hoodie when they said my name on the morning announcements. Why did I submit then? Because try as I may, my destiny wouldn’t stop bugging me. 

There were several years when I stopped writing altogether. I think my muse left me or my excuses got the best of me. Or maybe it’s because if you don’t go after want you want, you can’t get rejected. Either way, I was hiding from what I wanted because I was worried that it wouldn’t want me back.

Instead, I was busy doing the sensible thing, doing what everyone else was doing. I worked 9-6 for great companies—jumping through industries that were close enough to writing but not too close for comfort. Eventually, it was a layoff that pushed me to push myself. 

When I had no job title, I filled it in with “writer.” 

And it finally felt right.

I stepped away from one life and jumped into another. I left my corporate life behind, and I never looked back. I decided I wouldn’t do things the were they were done before. I stopped running away from my dreams, and I let them catch up to me. 

When I made this choice, that’s when everything else started happening. I got my first client. I got my second client. I created my company. I played around with what I wanted to do with my own rules. I adjusted as necessary. I made changes frequently. And I went to sleep…fulfilled.

You see, I didn’t just pivot toward the end of the story. No, I started a whole new book from scratch, and things started to align after that. So, no, I’m not just pivoting—because I’m not ready for my happy ending. I’m just getting started, and Nurtured Narratives is the beginning.

So, how do you write your sequel? 

You claim what you want. 

You choose yourself. 

You forget your title. 

You turn the page.

And you own it. 

Welcome to my sequel. Now, let’s write yours.