When the answer is yes
Sometimes, the universe says yes.
And when the universe gives you a nod in the affirmative, it’s worth taking a minute to let that wash over your soul.
Most grownups figure out pretty quickly that life is a wild, wild ride, full of challenges, wins and losses, trades that sell us long and trades that sell us short. Like that country song says, sometimes we’re the windshield, sometimes we’re the bug. We make negotiations with ourselves and others that are to our advantage or disadvantage. I like to joke that one of my super powers is managing expectations. I say it with a chuckle, but I really mean it most of the time because keeping things real is one way to ward off disappointments that run and cut deep. It’s a self-defense mechanism that works in tandem with my dark sense of humor to keep life’s capricious waves from knocking me over.
But I have to admit that this week, something so wonderful has happened that I can feel the wind at my back, pushing me forward, and I am thankful. This week, the universe said yes.
Fifteen years ago, I started writing a novel. It was my first. I scratched it out with a pencil on a stack of yellow legal pads in a tiny restaurant while I waited for my youngest daughter to finish preschool two days a week. There was something about pushing the sharpened pencil across the page on those afternoons that moved the story forward. Thoughts ran down my arm, to my hand, through the pencil to the paper, line after line, each yellow page empty and begging me to fill it with pleasing combinations of words that were nothing but chicken scratch to strangers, but woven dreams to me.
Those afternoons felt self-indulgent, but wonderful, like a delicious secret that my head kept with my heart. The story became even more real as I typed it into a form that others could read. I even had the good fortune to work with a seasoned editor who walked me through the process and was brave enough to tell me what was good and what parts needed more work. Full of hope, I pitched to agents and started collecting rejection letters left and right, knowing these were all rites of passage I’d heard about. One day, an agent emailed and asked that I send the whole novel. Any poor soul who has ever tried to get something published knows that this is a coveted request. I sent my baby off and waited for a response. A few weeks later, the agent called and asked that I make significant changes to the manuscript. I listened, told her I’d think about it, then got off the phone and bawled my eyes out. Ultimately, she wanted me to remove a character from the story who was so central to the work, that removing her would be akin to pulling the spine from a person and expecting that person to be able to stand up straight. I decided against making that change. I put the story in the proverbial drawer and closed it for awhile. Sometimes, I doubted my decision, but didn’t have time or enough energy to think about the missed opportunity that I’d let slip through my fingers.
And frankly, life got in the way. My family needed me in countless ways. They deserved my full attention and then some. We were in the full throttle of parenting three children who needed their mother. My husband needed me, too. I was seriously ill for awhile. We lost parents. We moved a few times. Meals needed to be planned, cooked and eaten, followed by cleanup, rinse and repeat. Clothes needed washing, drying, folding. Leaves were raked, games and recitals attended, birthdays celebrated and bills paid. Our son became very ill, and supporting him consumed us in ways we never imagined possible. Every corner of life felt full of fires that needed tending of some kind, leaving little room for self-indulgence. Sometimes, I’d sneak away and scratch at a new story here and there, but it always felt like a guilty pleasure I didn’t deserve. It was a want, not a need, and sometimes, we can only answer needs. Wants just have to wait.
At the beginning of this year, I made a quiet resolution to pull some of those long lost wants of mine off the wait list. I’m still needed by my family and the world, but I determined it was high time I gave myself the greenlight to pursue my own joy. I wish I’d done this sooner. Making space for full-throated joy is essential. And when a girl’s idea of a good time is writing, it’s time to sharpen that pencil.
I’ve written new stories, rehashed old ones, and spent time letting words spill onto the page with a voice, sensibilities and skills that I did not possess to the fullest that first time around. I even reached back out to my editor, who encouraged me to pull that first novel out of the vault for another look. Together, we agreed this story still has legs. I read it with fresh eyes and took a dive back into what I’d started all those years ago. It’s better. I’m better. And that beloved character of mine is staying in the story.
Getting a book published has been a lifelong dream of mine, and last week, the universe told me that dream wasn’t big enough. I signed a publishing contract for a three-book series. My first book will be out in 2024, with two more to follow.
Sometimes, the universe says yes.
Anne Shaw Heinrich is a freelance writer living in Kirkwood, Missouri.
