A Monday. Cold tiles. Right outside the Apple Store.
Twenty minutes in, a security guard stood over me.
“Ma'am, are you unwell?”
I wasn't. So I asked him a question instead.
“What would you rather be doing?”
I expected a ball game. Feet up.
He said one word.
“Write.”
Then this big, intimidating man... blushed.
“I've dabbled. A page here and there. But nothing significant.”
Crime dramas, it turned out.
Cop by night. Security by day. Eighteen-hour shifts.
He thought there was nothing in his life worth a page.
I could hear the stories in every word he said.
Today, Ben is the published author of three books.
He didn't need a writing class.
He needed someone to show him the stories were already there.
If a security guard who thought his life was “nothing significant” had three books' worth of stories in it...
imagine what's in yours.

