The Pen Is in Your Hand—Stop Letting Other People Scribble in Your Book

Once upon a time (which is how all great stories begin, unless they’re written by Quentin Tarantino), you were born into a world already scribbled on. From the moment your fresh little lungs screamed you into existence, everyone around you began writing your story for you. They gave you a name, told you what was right and wrong, what to believe, how to act, who to vote for, what God looks like (usually a lot like Santa), and whether pineapple belongs on pizza (sometimes.) Before you could even hold a crayon without eating it, the world had already outlined your plotline. But here's the divine twist: you’re not a side character in someone else’s novel—you’re the author of your own damn epic.

Stop Letting Other People Be Your Ghostwriters
If you’ve ever found yourself thinking, “Why does my life feel like someone else is driving and I’m just a confused Uber passenger who forgot to set a destination?”—well, congratulations. You’ve just realized you’ve been outsourced.
Society, religion, parents, teachers, your Aunt Dolores with the mole that looks like Elvis—they’ve all taken turns writing your chapters. They’ve handed you roles like “The Good Girl,” “The Obedient Son,” “The Quiet One,” “The Screw-Up,” or “The One Who’s Gonna Be a Doctor Even Though He Passes Out at the Sight of Blood.”
But you, my friend, are not an actor in their play. You are the playwright. You are the pen-wielder-in-chief. And if you don’t believe that, let me ask you a simple question:
Who’s holding the pen right now? (If your answer is “ChatGPT,” I’m going to gently flick your forehead.)

The Blank Page Only Appears When You’re Present
Here's a spiritual truth dressed up like a bumper sticker: You can’t write on a page that’s already filled with yesterday’s crap.
To write a new story, you need blank space—and the only blank space available in this life is the present moment.
The past? That's just yesterday’s newsprint, already printed, folded, and lining someone’s birdcage. The future? That’s tomorrow’s comic strip—it’s not here yet, so don’t try to edit it.
Right now--this breath, this moment, this weird eye contact with your dog who’s definitely judging you—this is your blank page.
And the only way to write on it consciously is to stop reacting based on the plot twists of the past. Because if you're constantly reacting from past programming, you’re not writing—you’re copying and pasting someone else’s trauma template.

“Character in Someone Else’s Story” 
Living by other people’s expectations is like showing up to life wearing someone else’s pants. They don’t fit, they’re not your style, and you keep tripping over the hem.
But here’s the real kicker: the moment you say, “Hey, maybe I want to live my life differently,” people will act like you’ve joined a cult. “What do you mean you don’t believe in guilt anymore?” “What do you mean you don’t think you’re broken?” “What do you mean you’re not going to Sunday brunch with us while we passive-aggressively compare lives?”
The nerve!
But you’re not here to be someone else’s loyal character in their drama. You’re not “Supportive Best Friend #3” or “Rebellious Teen Turned Middle-Aged Cynic.” You’re the protagonist, the narrator, the main event.
And yes, sometimes the plot gets messy. But you know what? That’s when the story gets good.

Conscious Choice: Your Superpower, Baby
You can’t write your own story until you realize you’re not your habits, your upbringing, or your uncle’s weird political opinions. You are the one choosing—whether consciously or unconsciously.
Unconscious choice is like letting a drunken raccoon type your autobiography. You end up with chapters that start with heartbreak and end with 17 open browser tabs and an impulse-purchased samurai sword.
But conscious choice? That’s where the magic happens.
Conscious choice is pausing before you react.
Conscious choice is asking, “Is this really how I want my story to go?”
Conscious choice is saying, “Nah, guilt isn't a great narrator. Let’s try love instead.”
That’s not just powerful. That’s Pulitzer-worthy living.

It’s Not Too Late to Rewrite
You might be sitting there thinking, “Great, John, I’m 60 years into this book, and it’s been mostly a mix of guilt, confusion, and weird chapters titled ‘I Did What They Told Me.’”
Good news: spiritual books don’t follow normal publishing rules.
You can rewrite your life mid-sentence. Heck, you can change genre completely. Been living a tragedy? Flip the page—make it a rom-com. Stuck in a drama? Add some comic relief (preferably involving your cat and an unattended bowl of yogurt).
The Universe doesn’t care how long it took you to pick up the pen. It just gets really excited when you finally do.

Let Love Be Your Editor
Here’s the ultimate trick to writing a story worth living: let love be the editor-in-chief.
Don’t write from fear, obligation, or “because that’s what everyone else did.” Write from love. Write from joy. Write from the deep inner knowing that your story is sacred—even when you’ve got plot holes and spelling errors.
Because when love edits your life, shame gets crossed out.
When love edits, courage gets underlined.
And when love edits, the ending is always a beautiful beginning.

The Moral of the Story
​So here’s your plot twist, dear reader: you were never lost. You were just following someone else’s GPS.
The pen is in your hand. The page is blank. The ink is made of presence, purpose, and probably a little bit of coffee.
Start writing your story today. Not the one your past told you to write. Not the one religion or family drafted for you. But the one where you decide who you are, what you believe, and how the story unfolds.
Just try not to write it like a soap opera. We’ve had enough amnesia and long-lost twin plotlines, thank you. 

---