Letters From The Deep End: Building Bridges Through Human-Centered Storytelling

First published on my Substack, https://plungesociety.substack.com, October 11, 2025

People sometimes ask me,“Keith, what is it you’re trying to be? A writer? A filmmaker? A motivational speaker?”

And I get it. The world loves labels. It makes people feel safer when they can put you in a box.

But the truth is, I’m not really trying to be any of those things, and yet, I’m trying to be all of them.

The bottom line is that I’m trying to be a storyteller. A person who tells stories that can help bring us back from the brink.

Stories that help us see each other again, not as political or spiritual opponents, or as strangers on opposite sides of a fence, but as human beings.

Stories that remind us of the good that’s still out there, buried under the noise and the narratives that were designed to keep us divided and distracted.

If that means I have to learn how to shoot better video, then so be it.If it means I’ve got to write twice as much or twice as hard, so be it.If it means showing up to carry gear, take notes, or support someone already doing this work just to learn how it’s done, then so be it. 

Whatever it takes to tell stories that reconnect us, I’m all in.

Because this world doesn’t need another influencer or another guy chasing fame.

What it needs are witnesses. People willing to see, listen, and tell the truth about who we really are.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

The Why That Never Changes

Everything I do comes down to this: I believe stories can bridge divides.

That if we slow down long enough to really see each other, through the noise, the politics, the algorithms, and the manufactured hype, we start to heal what’s been tearing us apart.

And I know it’s true because I’ve seen it happen.

Back in my early nomadic days, I stumbled across the story of a woman named Valerie Doshier while passing through a small town in Texas. I didn’t plan to hang around, but something about her mural at the local museum pulled me in. I later wrote a book about her life, and that story ended up creating ripples of connection I could never have imagined.

People reached out from all over the world, sharing how Valerie’s light had touched their lives, even years after her passing.

That experience changed me. It proved that storytelling, when done with heart and honesty, can spread far beyond the storyteller. It can bring healing, unity, and hope in places that need it most.

Ever since then, I’ve known this is what I’m supposed to do. Use the power of story to remind us who we are and what still matters.

I want to share some of my ideas with you…

From Bay Floors to Backroads

I mentioned this project in my last article, but it’s worth expanding on, because From Bay Floors to Backroads is more than an idea to me. It’s a mission.

It’s my effort to highlight the people behind the service and automotive industry. The technicians, service advisors, and support staff who keep our world moving. The ones who solve problems under pressure, who show up every day to help someone get back on the road, and who rarely get the recognition they deserve.

I grew up in that world. My dad was a Ford mechanic for nearly three decades, and I followed in his footsteps. Even after I left the bay floor to become a writer and coach, that world stayed in my bones.

Now I want to use storytelling to shine a light on it. Not by preaching about the trades, but by showing the heart, pride, and humanity that live inside those garages. From Bay Floors to Backroads is about bringing dignity and visibility to the men and women who keep our lives in motion.

A Bigger Conversation

A few years ago, I stepped away from the shop and into storytelling, but that world, those people, and that grit never left me. I still think about their stories and what they could reveal if we truly listened.

I believe the answers we’re searching for, the ones about burnout, pride, leadership, and legacy, live inside their stories. In the long hours. In the tension between corporate goals and human realities. And I also believe that by changing the way corporations operate — by shifting how they listen, lead, and care for the people who make everything run — we can change the world for the better.

That’s why From Bay Floors to Backroads isn’t just about mechanics. It’s about connection. It’s about listening to the people who carry entire industries on their shoulders and asking what their stories can teach us.

I can’t help but wonder what it might look like if companies like Ford Motor Company joined the conversation and truly listened to the people who represent their name every single day. I’ve worked in nearly every department of a dealership. I’ve seen both the heart and the hurt. The bottom line is simple. This isn’t just about cars. It’s about people. It’s about bridging the gap between leadership and the line.

I’m already beginning to connect with producers, filmmakers, and storytellers who care about human-centered, impact-driven stories, the kind that leave a mark where it matters most. Because this work has never been about one person with a camera. It’s about a collective of people with the courage to tell the truth well.

Showing the Way

Showing the Way grew out of that same fire.

It’s my storytelling series, short documentary-style videos that capture the soul of everyday people doing good work in the world. So far, I’ve produced two episodes using only my iPhone, just to test the concept, and they became some of the most-watched and most-shared videos I’ve ever posted. That told me everything I needed to know: the hunger for these kinds of stories is real.

Now the challenge, and the opportunity, is to take it further. To expand the vision, increase the quality, and keep sharing stories that prove decency, courage, and love are still alive in this country.

It’s not Hollywood. It’s real life. And it’s just getting started.

Signs of Good

Then there’s Signs of Good, an idea that hasn’t yet made it past the drawing board, but one I believe in.

It’s simple. Short, uplifting glimpses of humanity. A quiet reminder that good hasn’t gone extinct. We just stopped noticing it.

Maybe it’s a stranger helping someone on the street. A mom cheering for her foster kid’s first baseball hit. A technician refusing to leave someone stranded. Small things, real things, signs that goodness is still everywhere if we look for it.

That’s the kind of things I want to capture, because in times like these, sometimes all we need is a reminder that good still exists.

Another Layer of Storytelling

Alongside these projects, I recently started developing new, more cinematic ways to explore these same themes, by creating short scripted pieces that blend story and a message.

Some are inspired by real moments I’ve witnessed on the road, others by the divisions and human misunderstandings I see every day. These will not be documentaries, but something closer to visual parables. Short, emotional stories that hold up a mirror and ask us to look a little closer at ourselves and each other.

These ideas are still in development, but they follow the same heartbeat as From Bay Floors to Backroads, Showing the Way, and Signs of Good. Each one aims to spark conversation, empathy, and self-reflection. Visual proof that storytelling can take many forms, but still serve the same purpose of helping us remember we belong to one another.

Pulling something like this off takes resources, collaboration, and people who believe in the mission. I don’t yet know exactly how I’ll make it all happen, but I feel the urgency and know the time is now. The stories, the need, and the message are too important to wait. I’m ready to step up and find the right people who want to help bring this vision to life.

The Season I’m In Now

I wasn’t trained as a writer. I’m self-taught. Everything I’ve learned came from persistence, trial, and a refusal to quit. And I’m taking that same determination into learning how to create quality videos, to become the kind of visual storyteller who can make people feel something real.

I don’t have a film degree, a crew, or a studio. I’m a novice with a camera, a story, and an unshakable drive. So I’m doing what I’ve always done: learning by doing, figuring it out in real time, staying teachable, and keeping my eyes on the bigger mission.

I’ve also mentioned my need to be more mobile, specifically in a vehicle I can live and work out of, like a van or a small Class B. And my 2013 Ford Fusion has been through A LOT and is showing its age.

Looking back, I wish I’d made the moves to make this happen already. But since I’ve been unable to predict the future, I didn’t. So now I’m piecing it together one step at a time, building the foundation for what I know is 100 percent possible. Because the stories I need to tell, and the people I need to meet, are out there on the road.

Because I’m not just trying to make content. I’m building a body of work. Something that will outlive me. Something my kids and grandkids, and yours, can look back on and say, “He worked to remind us who we are.”

I want to build something that honors both worlds I come from: the hands-on and the heart-led. The worker and the dreamer. The bay floor and the backroad.

The Audacity to Believe

If I sound fired up, it’s because I am.

There’s a part of me that runs on peace and compassion. But there’s another side, forged by my father’s grit and his refusal to back down when life got rough. That side is the fire that won’t die. The voice that screams, Get back up! The part of me unafraid to step into rooms where they say I don’t belong. But I’m not there for approval. I’m there for purpose.

Because I believe in this. I believe in us.And I believe that good storytelling can still change

things.

Not by preaching and certainly not by politics. But by proximity. By putting people close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat again.

For people to know what’s possible, they need to see it. To quote 2x Emmy-winning Producer, Narrative Strategist, and Speaker, Sarah Yourgrau, “We can’t be what we don’t see.”

What Comes Next

I don’t know exactly where this road leads, but I know I’m supposed to be on it.

You’ll see more from me soon. More stories from the road. More faces. More lessons. More behind-the-scenes glimpses of what it looks like to build something that matters from scratch.

And if you’re reading this, you’re part of it. Part of the tribe that believes in decency, courage, and second chances.

This is what The Plunge Society is all about.It’s where we stop waiting for permission and start creating impact, one story, one act of good, one brave mile at a time.

So yeah, maybe I’ve got a lot of names for what I do. But they all lead back to one idea: Straight Up Living.

It began as a small blog in 2010, but it quickly became more than that.

It became my philosophy, the way I live, and the way I try to tell stories.

Real. Honest. Human.

A man on a mission to tell human stories that bridge divides.A traveler chasing light across a country that still has plenty of it left. It just needs us to step up and show it.

Ultimately, I’m simply a storyteller doing his part to remind us that the good is still out there, and always worth finding.

I know I can’t do this alone. The stories worth telling are too big for one voice, one viewpoint, or one platform. So I’m looking for the right people to build this with, people who care about human stories, substance, and the kind of impact that will outlive us.

I want to build real connections with producers, filmmakers, and storytellers who share this mission. But I’ve learned that the most powerful way to do that isn’t by waiting and wishing, it’s by working. By showing up, telling the stories, and putting the content out now.

Because the right people will feel something real in the work and know they’re meant to be part of it.