In Author DeskGrowing Up in a Family of Storytellers
Some families pass down recipes, heirlooms, or traditions. My family passes down stories.
I come from a very large extended family spread across Tennessee. When I say large, I mean several hundred cousins. Despite being scattered across different towns and cities, we all share the same roots. Every one of us can trace our family line back to the marriage of Jesse James Warren and Kim Davis Heath in the 1920s.
Together they raised eleven children, all of whom lived long lives and built families of their own. One of those eleven children was my grandmother, Mamaw Estelle. Through her and her siblings, the Warren family tree kept growing until it turned into something huge.
But what truly defines our family isn’t just the number of people. It’s the stories we tell.
A Family Bonded by Laughter
The Warren Tradition of Storytelling
The Warren family has always been close. Even as cousins moved to different places and built their own lives, the bond between us remained strong.
If there’s one thing every Warren descendant seems to have in common, it’s the ability to tell a good story. I have yet to meet one who can’t spin a tale that leaves everyone around them smiling or laughing out loud.
Of course, not every story is perfectly accurate.
Many of these family stories probably started with a small piece of truth. But over time, after years of retelling and a healthy dose of imagination, those stories evolved into something bigger. Details became more colorful. The situations became funnier. The characters became more memorable.
And somehow, each time the story is told, it gets even better.
These stories may not always be historically precise, but they do something more important: they bring people together.
A Special Night to Remember
Celebrating the Release of My First Novel
Last week, something special happened. A small group of my Middle Tennessee cousins gathered to celebrate the release of my debut novel, Lost in the Holler.
It wasn’t a huge event. It wasn’t a formal book launch with bright lights or crowds of strangers.
Instead, it was something far better.
It was family.
Rarely in life do you experience a moment that grabs hold of your heart and refuses to let go. Last Wednesday was one of those moments for me.
We gathered at my second cousin Debbie’s house, sat comfortably in her family room, and did what the Warren family has always done best.
We told stories.
And as we like to say back home, it was a hoot.
An Evening Filled With Stories
Old Memories and New Laughter
That evening felt like stepping into a living memory.
Some cousins shared the classic stories we had heard many times growing up. The ones that always bring laughter no matter how often they’re told.
Others told stories that were completely new to me. Stories about relatives I loved but never knew certain things about. It felt like discovering hidden pieces of my own history.
There were also the modern jokes that cousins like to share when they get together. Friendly teasing and playful storytelling filled the room.
And then there were the moments when people told stories about themselves. Those were often the funniest of all.
When people get older, they tend to collect a lifetime of funny situations and unexpected experiences. Those memories become perfect material for storytelling.
Let’s just say nobody in that room was exactly young anymore, which meant there was plenty of material to work with.
Sharing My Own Memories
Remembering Family From the Past
The Warren family is not known for being shy, and I’m no exception.
During the evening, I shared some of my own memories of the ten great aunts and uncles I grew up knowing. They were colorful personalities who made childhood unforgettable.
I also shared stories about my immediate family, including a few that had never been told before.
As the stories flowed around the room, something unexpected happened.
I felt completely alive.
It’s hard to explain, but for those few hours, time seemed to slow down. The conversations were natural, the laughter was genuine, and the memories felt vivid again.
Realizing What I Had Been Missing
The Importance of Slowing Down
About four hours into the evening, a realization hit me.
I had missed these people more than I realized.
Life has a way of pulling us in different directions. Careers, responsibilities, and daily routines keep us busy. Many of us spend years chasing success or pursuing goals without ever stopping to ask ourselves why.
I realized that I had been doing exactly that.
It wasn’t that my life had been unhappy. In fact, I’ve had many good experiences along the way.
But somewhere along the road, I had built a kind of barrier between my past and my present. I had convinced myself that focusing on personal connections might distract me from achieving success.
In reality, those connections were something I needed all along.
That evening reminded me of a part of myself that I had quietly pushed aside.
Discovering My True Identity
I Am a Storyteller
If there is one thing I have always been, it’s a storyteller.
I have been listening to stories and telling them for as long as I can remember. From childhood gatherings to family dinners, storytelling has always been a natural part of my life.
A great story doesn’t have to be complicated.
Sometimes the best stories are simple. What matters most is the feeling they create.
A powerful story can make someone laugh. It can make someone cry. Sometimes it does both at the same time.
Stories have the power to create images in our minds and emotions in our hearts. When someone hears a story that truly connects with them, they become fully engaged.
For a moment, they are no longer just listening.
They are experiencing it.
The Art of Family Storytelling
Learning From Generations of Practice
As I watched my cousins tell their stories that night, I realized something important.
They were masters of storytelling.
Not because they studied writing or attended workshops, but because they had been practicing their entire lives.
They knew how to build anticipation, how to pause at the right moment, and how to deliver the perfect punchline.
More importantly, they told stories for the right reason.
They told stories to bring joy.
There was no audience to impress, no critics to satisfy, and no hidden agenda. The goal was simple: to make each other happy.
That kind of storytelling is pure and authentic.
And it’s something that can’t be taught in a classroom.
Why I Write
The Question People Often Ask
People often ask me why I write.
It sounds like a simple question, but the answer is surprisingly difficult.
Saying that I write because I love to write almost feels too simple. It sounds like something people say when they don’t have a better explanation.
But the truth is exactly that.
I write because I love telling stories.
And if I’m being honest, I also love when people enjoy those stories. There’s something deeply satisfying about knowing that a story you created made someone laugh, smile, or feel something meaningful.
Maybe that’s part of my family’s influence.
After all, I come from a long line of storytellers.
The Power of Stories
Why Stories Matter
Stories are more than entertainment. They help us remember where we came from. They connect generations. They preserve moments that might otherwise be forgotten.
Family stories, especially, have a unique kind of power.
They remind us of who we are.
When cousins gather to tell stories about grandparents, childhood adventures, and long-past family events, those memories stay alive. They become part of the family’s identity.
And sometimes, those stories inspire something bigger.
In my case, they helped shape my journey as a writer.
A Night I’ll Never Forget
That evening with my cousins wasn’t just a celebration of my book.
It was a celebration of the people who shaped me.
Their humor, their memories, and their stories reminded me why storytelling matters. They reminded me that stories are not just something we read in books.
They live in families.
They live in laughter shared across living rooms.
And sometimes, those simple moments become the stories we carry with us forever.
