This post is #9 in a series of 50 dedicated to the art and life of writing, in support of the 50 for 50 Project to benefit WriteGirl. If you like it, or if you think it could have been improved by a better writing education for its author, please give generously. And pass it on.
One of the things that learning to write teaches you is to find the stories everywhere.
The stories around you. The stories you are living. The stories that involve you, and the stories that involve other people.
And when you really dig in, you start developing a strange ability to see the world through different lenses: the lens of nostalgia, the lens of need, the lens of want. A photo of a group of people on a roof becomes more than a time-capsule display of a skyline or a series of funny hats; it's now a doorway into any world you want, a vehicle to start talking about love, about fear, about heat, about anticipation. About togetherness, aloneness, boredom, sorrow. About men and women, about black and white, about rich and poor, about summer and winter, about work and play.
Once you know where to look, everything is a story. And every story is a beginning.