From Law to Literature : Why I Gave Up Drafting Contracts To Draft My Stories
November 19, 2025 I know that any reasons I give here will seem at first a bit trite, cliché, but […]
Stories We Choose Not to Tell
By Michael B. Daugherty.
Every scar, seen or unseen, has a story. There comes a time to tell them; they won’t just ‘go away’ if one is to survive. After keeping silent about much of my past for 50 years, in retirement I began writing, and the stories I chose not to tell, about childhood and family trauma, came pouring out.
What follows is a story of grit, a will to thrive, and unexpected offers of hope – tales of a journey that may inspire those suffering from Childhood PTSD or help loved ones appreciate the struggles of those who bear that misery.
Biography
Michael B. Daugherty
After 40 years as a Commercial Real Property and Corporate Lawyer, I have retired to my first love, writing and telling short stories. Literature was never far from my mind as I practiced law. I completed a Masters in English in 2007, my thesis written on the remarkable similarities between the work of the Dane Soren Kierkegaard and the French novelist Francois Mauriac. During COVID, I took the leap and finished a second Masters in Creative Writing, and retired from the law shortly thereafter.
My Stories
The Stories We Chose Not to Tell
A mosaic of real moments and unspoken truths, exploring how we survive — and sometimes even thrive — after the things that nearly break us.The Stories We Chose Not to Tell is a memoir-style collection of interconnected non-fiction stories about family.
The Sleepover That Changed Everything
A childhood sleepover turns tragic when a drunk driver changes one family’s life forever. Told through the eyes of a seven-year-old, this story explores loss, innocence, and the moments that shape who we become.
The Upper Room
In the quiet space above the garage, memories compete with the hum of daily life — and sometimes, memory wins.The Upper Room captures the setting where many of my stories are born: a small writing room above the garage in St. Paul, Minnesota or my office nestled high among the trees in Hopkins, Minnesota.
