Why Do We Write?

Writers are often told, “Write what you know.” But the truth is, we often come to know ourselves through what we write. Writing isn’t just about expressing what’s already clear to us—it’s a way of uncovering the hidden layers of who we are.

George R.R. Martin once said, “If you need security, this is not the profession for you.” If you're doing it to make money, or to be famous, there are easier ways. Writing is a risk—in more ways than one—a leap into the unknown. We don’t write because it’s safe; we write because we can’t not write. It’s an act of honest expression, a way of saying, “This is what I stand for. This is who I am.” But it’s also a way of questioning, “Who am I?” and finding the answer through your dialogue with the page.

Bruce Lee described martial arts as a means of honestly expressing oneself—of putting your intent into the world through movement. Writing works in a similar way, albeit with words: it allows us to share ourselves with others, to foster connection and empathy. In both cases, self-expression is an act of self-revelation—it allows us to articulate and understand our limitations and identities. In the process, we come face-to-face with our fallibility. And when we embrace that, we begin to forgive—not just others, but ourselves.

The beauty of writing is that the page is always there to listen. It’s a confessional, a space where we can say the things we’re not ready to say out loud. You don’t have to share everything you write, but when you’re a writer, you feel compelled to share everything with the page. The act of writing itself becomes a dialogue with yourself, a place to confront your truth and find clarity.

So why do we write? Because the act of putting words on the page brings order to chaos. It transforms vague thoughts into defined truths and helps us make sense of our imperfections. Writing begins as “write what you know,” but it ends with “know what you write.”

Javier

© 2025 Chapelle Dorée Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. This content may not be reproduced, distributed, or modified without permission.

Who Are You to Write a Book?

It’s the question that stops many writers in their tracks. The sheer hubris of it, right? The audacity to believe that your story matters enough to put it on paper. I know that question well because I’ve asked it myself.

When I was in college, I kept notes. Little fragments of life, snapshots of moments, ideas for a memoir I planned to write someday. One day, I told my roommate’s girlfriend about my plans. “Who would want to read your memoir?” she asked. A little rude, perhaps, but fair. It’s the same question most writers wrestle with at some point.

Whether you’re writing a memoir, an autobiography, or fiction, the work is always informed by your life. In some way, shape, or form, you’re almost always writing about yourself. You can’t really write meaningfully about anything else. If you’re not bringing something uniquely you to the story—if it’s not a story that only you can tell—then it’s probably not a story worth telling.

Not because you’re not worthy of telling a story, but because it’s the wrong story for you to tell.

When I reread my own novel, reflecting on how it was all about me, I still had the question: why would anyone care? I’m not so special. I’m not extraordinary.

And then it hit me: that’s exactly why they will care.

Because I’m not special. Because I’m just like everyone else. That’s what makes my story relatable. People will care about the parts where they see themselves. The universal truths that come out of the deeply personal moments.

That’s the power of storytelling. It’s not about showing off how great you are; it’s about putting into words the things we all feel but rarely articulate. It’s about being honest enough to say, This is who I am. Do you see yourself here, too?

So, if you’ve ever asked yourself, “Who am I to write a book?” let me offer this answer: You’re the only one who can tell your story. And somewhere out there, someone is waiting for it—not because you’re extraordinary, but because you’re human. That’s enough.

Write your story. Someone out there needs it.

Javier

© 2025 Chapelle Dorée Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. This content may not be reproduced, distributed, or modified without permission.

And so it begins…

Over twenty-five years ago, I began writing a book that would take seven years to complete. When it was finished, it sat untouched, gathering dust for nearly two decades. Life moved on, as it does, until a series of devastating losses left me questioning my purpose and the meaning of life. It was a dark time for me. I was lost. But a friend reached out and told me: "You need to write again. Everything you have bottled up inside—get it out. Relieve yourself of the weight."

I followed his advice, and what happened next was nothing short of transformative. That second book breathed life back into the first, reviving not just my creative spirit but my will to live. Writing became a compulsion—as other writers often say, I had to write because I couldn’t not write. It was no longer just a creative outlet; it was a lifeline. Writing saved me.

I am Javier De Lucia, and writing is my connection to meaning. It’s the thread that ties together my experiences and helps me make sense of the world. Chapelle Dorée Publishing is the manifestation of that connection—a vision of how I can contribute to the world through literature and by supporting others who feel the same pull toward storytelling.

My first novel, The Wake of Expectations, will be published later this year, followed soon by its sequel, A Pleasant Fiction. These books are more than stories; they are testaments to my experiences and the lessons life has taught me. Through them, I’ve attempted to capture not only my personal truth, but emotional truths that we all share.

Chapelle Dorée began as my journey toward self-publishing, but it has already become much more. In my own stories, I see gaps that need to be filled and perspectives that can broaden their relevance. I also see the authenticity of the singular experience—how a narrative resonates deeply when it is genuine. You don’t need to manufacture commonality for a story to matter. When a story is true, it resonates because, at some level, the human experience is always universal. The details are window dressing; it’s the emotional core that connects us.

My work—and the mission of Chapelle Dorée—is about fostering those connections and embracing the emotional truths that bind us together. I hope you will join me on this journey. Whether my stories inspire or simply entertain, I’m grateful to share this experience with you. Together, we can explore the power of storytelling and the ways it can illuminate, heal, and unite.

Welcome to Chapelle Dorée Publishing—let’s enjoy the ride.

Javier

© 2025 Chapelle Dorée Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. This content may not be reproduced, distributed, or modified without permission.