The first time I went to StoryStudio was for a write-in. I loved that the space felt like an apartment—the creak of the wood floors, the ambient bubbling of a kettle, deep couches, warm lights. Though it attracts talented, accomplished writers, there’s nothing intimidating about the space, and that sense of warmth and community is embodied by Rebecca. 

We had what we needed, just the same. Chairs arranged in a circle. Writing to share. And that nervous alchemy of belief and hope.
The belief that writing mattered. The hope that our writing, one day, might.

I knew when I saw [Jill’s plan] that she’d created something indispensable in a city that had all the talent of literary Brooklyn but not quite the same scaffolds.

The sense of community was palpable as was the camaraderie of working side by side with others who had the same goal, to be the best storytellers they could be. And some of those storytellers became cherished friends. 

For me, StoryStudio is more than classes. it’s a place where I found people who lived to write, who wanted to talk about it, and who continued being some of my best friends years after our classes ended.

And more than a book, the program produced a more permanent effect on my writing: a newfound community of other like-minded writers

StoryStudio was there for me during all the uncertainty of 2020. They were there when I grew into my capabilities a little more. And they were ready to accept where I was.

I am connected to some of the most prolific & talented writers in this community who have helped shape my own craft as student and instructor.

No one chooses a project like this — in writing, work, life — knowing exactly what it will demand. And even if we did, for the ones worth doing, we’d do it anyway.

Ultimately, StoryStudio Chicago’s teachings and empowering methods of inquiry led me to finish my first novel of the Rise series.