How Our Brains Write Stories, and How We Can Edit the Script
by Angie Petrie
We are, at our core, storytellers, gatherers not just of experiences, but of the narratives that make sense of our lives. As the old saying goes, “A rolling stone gathers no moss,” but perhaps, as humans, we thrive precisely because we collect these stories, layering them into the fabric of our identities.
Our memories, both fleeting and enduring, serve as the raw material for this ongoing narrative. Neuroscientists tell us that short-term memories are like notes quickly scribbled on a scrap of paper, fragile and easily lost, while long-term memories are carefully transcribed into the thick, dog-eared journals of our minds.
The process of committing an experience to memory is itself an act of storytelling: the brain weaves sensory details, emotions, and meaning into a coherent thread, sometimes embellishing or omitting details to suit the narrative arc. Yet, as Brené Brown so wisely observes, “The brain, on a good day, is a great data collector and a lousy data processor.” The stories we first construct about ourselves and the world are often hasty, shaped by the brain’s love for shortcuts. Brown calls this our “shitty first draft” (SFD); the unfiltered, unedited story our minds default to, especially in moments of stress or uncertainty. “The brain’s job is to keep us alive,” she explains, “so it will fill in the blanks with stories that are quick and often self-protective, but not always true.”
We have all felt the sting of these internal narratives: the ones that whisper, “You’re not good enough,” or, “They’re mad at you.” These SFDs are not just harmless scribbles; left unchallenged, they can become the script by which we live. But as Brown encourages, “When we deny the story, it owns us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.”
So, how do we combat those negative internal stories? The answer lies in curiosity and courage. When you notice your mind spinning a tale, especially one fuelled by shame or fear, pause and ask yourself, “Is this the only possible story?” Brown suggests writing out your SFD, then examining it with honesty and compassion.
What are the facts? What assumptions are you making? Where might there be another, kinder interpretation?
Here’s a creative approach I use: rewrite your story as a comic strip. Take your “shitty first draft” and imagine it as a sequence of illustrated panels. Draw the main character, yourself, going through the situation, expressing the doubts, fears, or misunderstandings.
In the next frames, introduce a twist: what if the character asks questions or receives help from a wise friend? What if, instead of ending with shame, the narrative takes a turn toward self-compassion and growth? By visualising the story, you can exaggerate, reframe, and play with outcomes, allowing your brain to see new possibilities. The act of translating an internal monologue into a playful, visual language can break the grip of negative scripts and make space for a more empowering narrative.
The beauty of this is that it can be done with old experiences as well as new. Ask yourself where the story started, and give yourself a fairytale ending that the brain can accept.
Our brains may prefer the quick and easy path, but as story gatherers, we have the power to revisit, revise, and rewrite. We can choose to hold onto the stories that serve us, and gently let go of those that do not.As you move through your day, notice the stories you collect, the memories you store, and the drafts your mind writes. Remember that you are not at the mercy of your first narrative. As Brené Brown reminds us, “Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.”
So, let’s be brave editors of our own lives, gathering, questioning, rewriting, or even re-drawing, until the stories we hold are not only true, but also deeply kind.
To see more from Brené Brown, check out her website and YouTube channel. Each of her powerful books is on Audible as well as in print.