Day 13: Angie Mizzell
A few weeks ago, I almost broke up with my book. The book that I first conceived of a decade ago. The book that compelled me to fly across the country when I was four months pregnant with my second child to attend a workshop called, “Write the Damn Book.” The book I’ve wrestled with and shaped into a first draft, a second, and now a third.
This third draft—I was convinced—was trying to do me in. I’m a trained journalist; a former television news anchor. I tell you this to illustrate the point that I know how to work on a deadline. Give me a deadline and I’ll get it done. But this book? It’s a whole different beast. On that particular night, I felt like it was messing with me, just for kicks.
Defeated, I shut my laptop and walked outside to my front porch. I sat on the top step, looked into the night sky and asked, “Why, for the love of all things good, is this so hard?”
I stared into the dark possibility: This big dream of mine? It’s going absolutely nowhere. For a moment, I almost believed it. I almost threw up my hands and dramatically declared, “I’m done!”
But I didn’t do that. At this stage in my life, I’ve learned to trust my gut feelings. If working on the book was no longer serving me, and if it was truly time to let go and move on, I would’ve felt a flash of relief. Instead, I heard a voice inside that said, “Hang on. Stay with me.”
Two weeks later, I went to a writing retreat. Just before I left, a writer friend sent me a link to a blog post about creating a compelling narrative arc. “What was the event that kicked off your crisis? Start there,” the author advised. “And start with the raw, beating heart of it, not what happened the day before.”
Jumping headfirst into the heart of my own story would mean changing the beginning (once again) and starting at what was currently chapter 3. This made me feel a bit out of control; I wasn’t sure how that was going to work. I’m not a let’s take a road trip and see where we end up kind of person. But I felt my wiser self, inviting me to give it a try.
I opened my laptop and dove in. Then, two days later, on the last day of the writing retreat, I read aloud the new opening chapter of my book. The audience of 12 supportive women all said, Yes! That works! The retreat leader, a woman who’s been my writing mentor for years, said, “Don’t change anything. Keep going.”
Getting an agent, getting this book published, and delivering it to the world: That’s the big dream. But it’s a goal for another day. Today, my goal is to write the next scene, and then the next, and the next, until I complete the third draft.
The grand takeaway? I think it’s this: If you’re working hard for something that feels impossible and the thought of letting it go doesn’t bring a sense of relief, then maybe it’s time to take a step back and give yourself space to see things in a new way. It’s like when I’m in a rush and trying to get out the door, and I’m searching all around the house for my phone. Then, suddenly, I realize that I’m talking on it.
Sometimes the answer—the breakthrough—is quite literally in the palm of your hand. You might not see it yet. Just hold on; stay with it. It’s closer than you think.
Asking for Impossible Things
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