The point of your origin story is NOT to impress people.

It’s to earn their trust.

So even if you’ve nailed your core belief, and structured it perfectly within the Hero’s Journey framework, if it’s too braggy, it’ll turn people off.

So today, as we pull together everything we’ve learned over the last two weeks about crafting your personal origin story, keep that one final detail in mind before you hit publish.

To recap, this is what we’ve covered so far:

✅ Week 1: Why is an origin story important, and wtf should you write about?

✅ Week 2: Outlining the story using Kristin’s adapted Hero’s Journey framework

👉 Today: Pulling it all together

Ready to actually sit down and write something publish-worthy? Let’s do it!

-Kristin 🍷 

P.S. — I want to read your story!! After you’ve published it, please send me a link. 🙏 

🍻 In today’s issue:

✏️ Sentence School: Don’t edit for polish. Edit for trust.

🥃 The Writer’s Pour: Alright, enough screwing around. Let’s write this thing.

🎙️ Drunk Talk: Finally revealed: my personal origin story.

🤖 Robot Pals: Three prompts that will stick some sparkle in your story.

It’s always been a matter of trust

If you’ve been doing your exercises over the last couple of weeks, you’ve got your beliefs nailed down, and you’ve got your Hero’s Journey outline.

(If you haven’t been doing  your exercises, you’ll want to knock those out before attempting to draft your origin story. Trust me — it’s not a waste of time. You’ll save time by doing them.)

Now it’s time to turn everything you’ve created thus far into an origin story that doesn’t read like a fan letter to yourself. Here’s how:

1. Anchor everything to your core belief

This will keep you from wandering into a boring biography, or writing a tedious timeline rather than a surprising story.

👉 Remember when I had you write your beliefs on sticky notes, and put them somewhere you’d see them every day? Now you’re going to do that as you write. Type the belief you’re anchoring your story to in bold right at the top of your draft.

Every beat of your story should ladder back to that belief. Staying focused on it will make writing your story a helluva lot easier.

2. Stick to the Hero’s Journey framework

You’ve already outlined your story using this framework — now use it as a template for guiding your readers through five distinct beats:

• An ordinary world: show what life looked like before the shift.

• A call to adventure: the spark, disruption, or problem that knocked things off balance.

• A tough ordeal: the moment that tested you. 

• A transformation: how you changed, what you learned, and who you became.

• A resolution: the new normal, defined by the belief that drives you today.

3. Exploit the “why”

Be sure to answer the question: “So what?”.

Don’t just tell us what happened — show us why it mattered. Spell out the cause-and-effect contrast. If you used to be timid and are now outspoken, connect the dots. If you used to chase perfection and now value speed, explain why.

That’s the moment your belief stops being abstract and becomes earned.

4. Edit for trust — not polish

The point of your origin story isn’t to impress people. It’s to earn their trust. So cut anything that makes you look like a flawless superhero, and keep the shit that makes you human — mistakes, doubts, failures.

The easiest way to do this is by running a “brag test”. Basically, if a line could appear on a resume, delete or re-frame it. If it sounds like you’re polishing yourself up for an award, it probably doesn’t belong. If it’s overflowing with superlatives, kill it.

For instance, replace “I was the youngest ever to…” with “I was terrified because I was way too young to…”

Readers trust scars, not trophies.

⭐ Remember — Your origin story isn't a catalogue of “everything that happened”. It’s a concise case-study showing how your most important belief was forged. Stick to that formula.

Today is kind of a big day, so instead of three exercises, we’re going to do one big exercise — which will conclude with your origin story. 👇️

Alright. Here’s my origin story.

An ordinary world

In 1998, a cute blonde figure skater named Tara Lipinski won Olympic gold at fifteen years old. 

Unlike the rest of the world, I didn’t see a fairy tale. I saw proof. Proof that my tedious efforts would someday pay off.

At that time, I was deep into 4am alarms, frozen snot slinging across my face as I threw myself into dizzying jumps, and a nonstop blur of figure skating competitions.

My life was anchored in a three-step process:

1. Preparation

2. Execution

3. Review

There was never a time when I wasn’t preparing for something— 

Be it a competition, a level-up test, or even a "pressureless" exhibition (spoiler — performing in front of an audience always comes with a shit-ton of pressure), or reviewing how I executed on the last thing I did.

Oh, and I was constantly battered and bruised.

When a skater lands a jump, the down-thrust is 8-times their body weight. So when something goes wrong, we transform into a grand piano, splintering onto a frozen sidewalk.

All this torture had to pay off someday, right? Tara was proof.

A call to adventure

Two weeks before the first round of qualifying competitions for the 2002 Salt Lake Games, I was running through my long program in practice. As I launched into a triple-salchow, I immediately knew my position was wrong —  I was screwed mid-air. 

Down I came, hard onto my left hip. The pain was shocking.

But I was… used to it. Crashing was normal. Pain was normal.

And my music was still playing, so I got up and kept going, pretending nothing was wrong. I continued training, and boarded a flight to Pittsburgh to compete, gobbling up ibuprofen like jelly beans.

A tough ordeal

But when I returned home (with no medals to show for my stupidly valiant efforts), my mom was not going to take any more of my shit.

She rushed me to the doctor for some x-rays. A few hours later, she received a phone call from the orthopedist informing her that she could stop by before the end of the day to pick up my wheelchair.

Um. What?

Turns out, the doctor who reviewed my x-rays didn’t even believe I was walking.

Because I had broken my goddamn hip. Three weeks earlier.

And the only treatment available was for me to stay off the ice for a year. 

It felt like my life was over. What was I supposed to do every day?

A transformation

I wanted to be back on the ice so badly that I just started hanging out at the rink. Nonstop.

And since I couldn’t skate, I spent that time learning about the refrigeration plant that kept the ice frozen, the risk management procedures that kept people safe, and the business practices that earned just enough money to pay the exorbitant power bills.

As I was honing those skills, I fell back on the only formula I knew:

1. Preparation

2. Execution

3. Review

It became an obsession. Instead of jumps and spins, I was nerding out over compressors and liability waivers. I didn’t know it then, but I was slowly building a different set of muscles.

Soon, opportunities began landing in my lap that I was wildly unqualified for. 

At 18, I found myself responsible for a holiday rink in Bryant Park — smack in the middle of Manhattan — while secretly praying no one would notice I was just a kid living off Pop-Tarts.

By 22, I was on a plane to Australia to help launch a massive ice arena. I had no business leading a project of that size, but I faked confidence, fumbled through some stupid mistakes, and somehow kept the lights on.

Then the ice rink projects –ahem– snowballed. 

My work expanded to other sports facilities, then landmark entertainment venues — not because I had a master plan, but because people kept asking, and I kept figuring shit out as I went.

Eventually, this strange mix of skating scars and rink-rat tinkering caught the attention of Harvard’s executive real estate program. I walked in certain they’d made a clerical error admitting me — but walked out a graduate.

A resolution

It’s been 25 years since the crash that took me out of competitive figure skating. I never even came close to standing on an Olympic podium. But honestly? I don’t care.

Because the failure that broke me is the same one that built me.

I didn’t walk away with a medal. I walked away with something better — a system that lets me master damn near anything.

Figure skating gave me resilience. But that injury gave me a reason to use it.

Note — I’ve included the five segments of the Hero’s Journey for you, but would never publish it with those titles.

Yes. You can use AI to help draft your Origin Story.

But you have to put in some work first.

AI can’t establish your beliefs for you. But it can help you find the “why” behind them.

AI can’t recall your memories. But it can help you connect those memories to your beliefs.

AI can’t write about your life. But it can help you dial-in on what’s most important in your story.

Here are three prompts you can use as you craft your origin story:

1. The Interview

We discussed this prompt a few weeks ago as you were brainstorming your core beliefs and anti-values in the exercise segment.

Use the questions AI asks you to peel back the layers of your beliefs, and discover the foundation beneath.

2. The First Draft

By now, you should have filled out the Hero’s Journey outline (if not, simply follow the link, make a copy of the document, and get going!)

Once that’s done, use AI to help transform that outline into your first draft:

Remember — this is JUST a first draft! And the more details you put into the outline, the closer it will be to a finished product.

3. The Brag Test

Once your draft is close to final, use AI to run it through the brag test:

AI is an incredible tool for self-reflection, a fantastic writing assistant for specific tasks (like those above), and a muse for breaking through the limiting beliefs we all have.

Use it for those purposes.

Don’t use it to write for you.

I don’t take my place in your inbox for granted.

It’s an honor to be welcomed into your world, and I know I have to work to continue to earn it, week after week. So if you have feedback, or if there’s a topic you want me to cover, just hit reply and tell me!

And if you love Drunk Writing Advice, consider sharing it with a friend. 🥰