I learned the infrastructure of my career from Ms. Mary Bouchard. (Mizz. Bouchard.)

She was my English teacher at G. Ray Bodley High School in Fulton, New York, three years in a row — tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grade. (Poor woman.) She was one of the great teachers of my life. Most of my ability to write a compelling and powerful story, I learned in her classroom.

Her ethos has been my north star for forty years:

Let the writing steep overnight. Then come back to it with a clean set of eyes. Read it as the writer. Read it as the reader. Then read it again as each character inside the book.

By listening and interpreting story from multiple vantage points — the person who lived it, the person who will hear it, and the person inside it — Ms. Bouchard taught her students creative writing. Three different angles each speaking their own truth, but woven together, these truths create a seamless story. Ms. Bouchard instilled a brilliance in how to make a story riveting, so one would be captivated by every perspective.

Whether helping organizations whose narrative had drifted, writing press releases, or at the deathbed of a friend, I have been fortunate to have her lessons as guideposts throughout my career. I now use her map for empowering queer elders who have carried their own story for years. This space is an opportunity to finally share their journey and to celebrate their life.

Most recently, her template is the vessel to launch the story of a Hollywood figure, whose name has been invisible for fifty years. Despite having shaped some of the most iconic images in international popular culture, his name has been largely hidden. His global contributions will now be a lasting legacy.

I inherited the listening, creative expression, and community building from three generations of my Family, who had these talents without yet naming them — my grandparents built gathering places that fostered storytelling, my father was a storyteller as an Episcopal priest, and my mother was a teacher.

Ms. Bouchard did not call it story preservation — I recently coined that term. But the practice she entrusted to me when I was a teenager is the toolkit from which I craft story. The writing — the part where you take what you have heard and put it into a form someone else can carry — that was a gift from Ms. Bouchard. Thank You.

What’s YOUR Story?