A Big Warm Hug of Hope and Belonging

Last weekend, I had the joy of attending the Sorrento Writers Festival, and honestly, I’m still floating.

It was everything you hope a festival might be. Alive with energy, packed with writers and readers, every conversation crackling with a shared love for stories. It didn’t feel like an event. It felt like one big, sprawling hug.

I went with my writer’s group, my creative comrades. There couldn’t have been better company. As fellow writers, every day we grapple with the same things: wrestling with words, serving our readers, and clawing our way out of creative holes.

Each night, we retreated to a friend’s farm in Red Hill. Fresh veggies from their patch, home-cooked dinners, local wine, and the kind of laughter that rattles the windows. Together in front of her cozy fire, we’d sift through the day’s sessions like magpies, pocketing shiny bits for our books and future writing adventures. So much inspiration, so many ideas, spilling late into the night.

Between all that inspiration, a few truths emerged.

Stories connect before they impress. Creativity is mostly persistence, not magic. And vulnerability? It beats polish every time.

Listening to the many brilliant authors was completely enchanting. Inspiring? Absolutely. Intimidating? A little. (Okay, maybe more than a little.) But one thing struck me: nearly every writer admitted to having an unfinished manuscript tucked away. A secret story in a drawer.

It made me wonder. How many stories are locked away inside all of us? Half-finished, half-forgotten, waiting for the courage, the time, the audacity to be shared?

So, if you’ve got a story in your drawer or your heart, maybe this is your sign.

Pull it out. Dust it off. The world needs more stories. Especially yours.