When I tell the story about how we left behind the small town where we raised our kids, the house whose every corner held a memory, and the friends who felt like family, I explain that it wasn’t just a move—it was a dismantling, piece by piece, of the life we had built. The goodbyes were wrenching, the packing endless. And yet, on the other side of that upheaval, a new chapter waited to be written. As the author of this story, I choose to describe the late career move from Alabama to the Washington, D.C. area as a grand adventure.

And indeed, it was—full of museums, concerts, restaurants, plays, parades, sports, politics, fabulous friends, and historic neighborhood living. There was the sheer awe of sitting in a church pew where George Washington himself once sat, seeing an explosion pink cherry blossoms for the first time and jogging along the Potomac River alongside people from every country and walk of life.

Like most of life, just when we think we’ve settled into a story arc, an unexpected twist can send us flipping back through the pages, wondering how we got here. But if writing has taught me anything, it’s this: every good story is a work in progress. We revise. We cut what no longer fits. We shift the perspective, reframe the narrative, and sometimes scrap whole chapters to start fresh. The art of the rewrite isn’t just for writers—it’s how we move forward, how we make sense of change, and how we turn an unplanned detour into the next great adventure.

The power of reframing your narrative comes from how we tell our stories, letting go of what no longer serves us, and making space for new possibilities. “Kill all your darlings” is classic writing advice, and I applied it ruthlessly when downsizing our accumulated possessions. But it’s also a way to let go of expectations, outdated dreams, and aspirations that were as frothy as an overwritten sentence.

When you view your life as a work in progress rather than a final draft, new chapters become possible. The art of rewriting your story offers powerful lessons, including:

  • Regret is just a typo you couldn’t catch in time.
  • Use the ‘Save As’ option to try out different versions of a situation without losing the original.
  • Sometimes, hitting ‘Delete’ gives you a fresh start.
  • You can’t cut and paste the past into the future and hope for new results.
  • The rough draft is supposed to be messy, crummy, and full of mistakes.
  • Too much editing can suck the life out of your prose—like a painting overworked until the colors turn muddy—and too little can feel sloppy, like a first draft riddled with typos and half-formed thoughts.

In writing, as in life, the magic is in the revision—because every rewrite brings us closer to the story we were meant to tell.

Here in this vibrant Lowcountry community, I’ve witnessed countless examples of personal rewrites. A friend moved here to write a historical novel. Another created her own, unique jewelry line. I love talking to people who take up new hobbies, learn to play new sports, and uncover a passion for art. Neighbors and friends have channeled their expertise and generous hearts into volunteering, proving that reinvention isn’t just about careers—it’s about embracing change with creativity and courage. Whether by choice or circumstance, we all revise our stories, shaping new chapters from the raw material of the old.

The next time life hands you an unexpected plot twist, remember—you hold the pen. Every rewrite brings us closer to a story that is not just compelling, but truly our own. And in our community, as in life, the most captivating stories are still being written.