Chris walked into the guest bedroom the other night while I was typing to you. He took one look at my desk and said, “Jesus, it’s like a serial killer’s plotting in here.”
One of the walls is decorated with quotes and plans and goals for this journal, everything but the push pins and red string linking together my ideas.
For the rest of October (since I last spoke with you after Maine), I dived into researching how to even start heading in the published direction and learned that a book proposal is basically the selling ticket. It’s what will convince a literary agent that I’m worth pursuing.
I found a great outline to help me write the proposal’s framework and content, of which I’d like to have completed by Christmas and start sending to agents. That will only be the start, I am sure, but nonetheless, it’s a start.
This writing adventure feels about half way through, having reached a point where I’m ready to whip out my map and see which direction the final summit is. Because I am ready for it. The hardest part may be ahead (finishing the rest of proposal, submitting, rejection, submitting…completing the actual book), but I’ve come this far and believe in it all too much to simply stop, put my gear down and turn around.
Right now, ideas and inspiration are essential and the more time I spend with my mind quiet, my words appreciative and my feelings positive, the more answers keep appearing on the crumb trail.
I have to trust and remain open, trust and remain open and continually move onward downstream, not up.
One of my favorite authors, Jen Sincero (whom I know I’ve told you about before–I kind of have a crush on her), came out with a new book this year called, You Are a Badass at Making Money. I would see it in Half Price Books each month when I frequented the store, sitting on the shelf with a vibrant green colored cover. It always caught my attention but I’d ignore it–like literally look away from the title, thinking, a book about money? Not interested.
Then I read an online article that mentioned her and the new book release. And a few days after that, my sister-in-law sent a text, saying how much she was enjoying the book on tape. And then a yoga student told me they were reading it.
Ignoring (or feeling resistance) towards this book was like a blinking light, alarming my body that something is off here and by repeatedly putting it into my experience, the Universe was saying, could you please just read the damn thing?
So on a whim one random afternoon, deciding finally to listen to the signs, I got Everett and myself dressed for a bookstore outing. While at the register checking out Sincero’s book, I asked the salesman if he had I Am Yoga, a children’s story that Jessie recently told me to buy. Unfortunately, there were no copies left, so I scooted on out and returned home, only to find an Amazon package had been dropped off on my doorstep.
It was a copy of I Am Yoga. Being the giving friend that she is, she’d sent it to me (and Everett) for no special reason.
I felt lit up, really and truly, because the coincidence was so cool to experience. The timing of it was effortlessly perfect, assuring me I followed my intuition correctly with the purchase of the badass book.
Chris and Everett and I were away this past weekend, visiting your sister in Virginia. On the car ride down, I sat in the passenger seat and read my new book atop a pillow on my lap, all while wearing travel accepted pajamas and moccasin slippers. It was lovely to just be stuck sitting still. And Everett was so good traveling, we barely knew he was in the back, chillin’ in his car seat and trying Sheetz gas station doughnuts for the first time (credits of his Dad).
But I uncovered the root of my resistance towards money, understanding a new truth I didn’t even know existed until I finished that fantastic book:
Just because I am a stay at home mom like you were, doesn’t mean I’m not capable or worthy enough or not supposed to make money for my family.
As silly as it sounds, I really and truly believe I needed to surface this belief in order to successfully move forward as the acclaimed author I dream to be. And the Universe knew this, of course.
My forever belief has been:
When Chris makes enough money, we will buy our property and build our house.
But I’m waking up to the fact that that’s not necessarily the truth. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be.
Yes, my mothering job description doesn’t come with an annual salary, but that doesn’t mean I cannot come up with a way to bring money in, if I desire to.
I am starting to feel the feeling of having money. I’d love to not think about it if Chris and I want to go to dinner. Or not having to think about it when I want to leave a huge tip for the waitress that served us. Chris and I aren’t struggling and I’m not trying to become a millionaire tomorrow. I just want freedom for my family when raising what I hope to be four (ish) kids on a piece of land. And I want the ability to give without limits, teaching my children that there will always be enough to go around if they think and work abundantly.
Money flows to me easily.
I love money and money loves me.
I am so grateful for the freedom money gives me.
Money will provide my family with land to live and play on with lots of animals.
I repeated those mantras in this morning’s meditation (of which I’m really trying to make a habit) and just tried to be free, having no thoughts say, yea well you can’t make money where’s your job? How is money just going to come out of thin air?
When my 8 minute meditation timer went off, the clock said 8:08. And you know I take double or triple numbers as a sign, some sort of higher power awareness, that I am in the flow and right where I am supposed to be. I felt right thinking about money, not shamed or spoiled or shallow.
I headed straight downstairs to our checkbook and ripped a blank one out, addressing it to Hayley Pearlman for…are you ready?
On the “for” line I wrote book deposit (not even knowing what that entirely means) and on the signature line, I wrote for property and house down payment.
Now I honestly have absolutely no idea how much writing a book is worth. I have never looked it up, and don’t even want to because I know I will feel disheartened at all the logistics. I just want to get the energy flowing specifically, telling the Universe, yes I am going to make this much money on this book deal. And I’ve got to feel that truth and believe it and feel thankful that it’s already on its way and not stop believing until it all comes to be my reality.
I will not stop. I cannot stop. My faith in the Universe (and therefore YOU), depends on this. It depends on me believing I can publish this journal and make something of it. I decide if my writing will be a success. I decide if that check will be real in my hands. I decide if our dream property is already real, sitting and waiting for us.
This “believing” always makes me think of Dr. Seuss, who was denied twenty-seven times before his first book became a success. And the only reason he became published in the first place, was because prior to calling it quits, he coincidentally ran into an old friend who happened to be an editor. If he had been walking on the other side of the street, he, in his own words, probably would never have become a children’s author.
Is that not an example of the Universe working its magic?
“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!”
I’m excited to discover all the things I think up in the time it takes for these words to be printed. And the more evidence I’m given that the Universe is listening, the more momentum I gain in going forward.
And I now know things are going to have to get uncomfortable; otherwise, nothing will change and I won’t propel to where I am headed.
So here’s something scary and uncomfortable and unknown, but I need to do it:
Manifest $147 to purchase Jen Sincero’s online book proposal course.
At the beginning of this entry, I thought I already had exactly what I needed for my proposal. And in the meantime of proofing these words to you, I somehow stumbled into this obvious next-step opportunity. If I wouldn’t have read You are a Badass at Making Money, I would’ve never felt inspired to looked for the author’s website and therefore find the proposal course.
I read testimonials of people who bought her course and started to think, this might be a rip off…Chris will think it’s a lot of money…yaddy yadda yadda. But that’s fear setting in. That’s discomfort in the unknown. That’s me not believing in something that was put on my path by the Universe to directly help me out if I’m serious about a book.
I have a yoga paycheck coming in about a week from now. But for fun–honestly just for the fun of it, I am going to manifest that exact amount of money. Writing it feels daring and already I can hear that tiny little voice saying, good luck with that, you are going to let yourself down, everyone who reads this will think you’re dumb.
Show me, Universe. Show me, Mom. I will do my part this week, promising to sit down each morning and meditate for my 8 minutes, thinking and feeling about that book proposal money, knowing the exact amount is on its way to me, in whatever way Sorce decides to deliver it.
And I promise an update on your now nineteen month old grandson, the next time we talk.
Oh! Almost forgot. Cole turns eighteen today. Your baby is legally an adult.