Why I Wrote The Long Way Here

I’ve been thinking about writing a book for a very long time. More than twenty years ago, I had a dream that I would one day write stories that would make a difference in someone’s life. I didn’t know what the stories would be or how they would take shape. I only knew that something in me felt called to write.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved telling stories. It’s how I make sense of the world. It’s how I connect with people. Over the years, my clients have often told me, “Your stories stay with me,” or “That story helped me see myself differently.” Their feedback planted a seed:
If my stories can help the people I know, maybe they can help people I’ve never met.

That thought stayed with me.
If I wrote a book, maybe I could expand my “net effect” on the world.
Maybe I could reach someone at the exact moment they needed comfort, clarity, courage, or hope.
Maybe I could touch strangers in a way that created even the smallest positive shift.

The Long Way Here grew from that quiet desire.

As I began writing, I realized the stories I was drawn to share were the ones that had shaped me—moments of joy, loss, resilience, love, uncertainty, courage, and unexpected turning points. Some were deeply personal. Some emerged from years of coaching extraordinary people as they navigated their own pivotal moments. All of them carried lessons that had lingered in my heart.

And as the stories came forward, so did the people who shaped me:
My parents, who taught me the value of love, hard work, and caring for others.
My family.
My clients.
My mentors.
My daughter.
My late sister.
My brother Tony, whose wisdom and spirit continue to guide me.
And my coach, who reflected back the best in me long before I could fully see it myself.

Each person left an imprint—small threads that, woven together, became the fabric of this book.

Writing The Long Way Here was not just a project; it was a labor of love. It asked me to slow down, look back, and honor the journey that brought me to this moment. It asked me to be honest, vulnerable, reflective, and brave. And it allowed me to revisit the many moments—some tender, some painful, all meaningful—that revealed who I am and who I continue to become.

My hope is that these stories offer you companionship on your own path. That they remind you that no one’s journey is linear. That you find comfort in the places we share and courage in the places you’re still discovering.

Most of all, I hope this book helps you pause, breathe, and reconnect with what truly matters to you.

Because in the end, that’s what The Long Way Here is really about:
finding meaning in the winding, beautiful path that leads us home to ourselves.

Thank you for walking a little of this long way with me.