One thing I’ve been working on is finding tools to lessen my “I want everyone to get back to me on my schedule” vibe. A few months back, with the help of my coach, I practiced the “push-it-down-the-line-in-my-calendar” method. And—wouldn’t you know it—I had something of a spiritual epiphany this week relating to the life-changing tool of calendering away my impatience.
Listen to the article instead of reading it here …
There’s nothing more aggravating to me than putting a creative project out into the ether and not hearing back. This is something I still actively work on every day; I honestly can’t stand the radio silence, especially when the project is a collaboration. If you think I’m talking about one instance, you’re wrong—I’ve had this happen a couple of dozen times. Clearly, the common denominator is me. Womp-womp.
And yes, it’s true that I don’t like to wait. My wife (who helped me put together today’s Substack because she’s quickly working toward Wife of the Year) has teased me that I would have failed the marshmallow test in kindergarten. As she would say, this observation is “not wrong.”
It’s true; I appreciate a quick reply (even just a confirmation of receipt, for crying out loud). But I’ve been actively working on this trait, understanding that sometimes, things take time. It’s one of the reasons I got a tattoo of a turtle (her name is Myrtle) a few weeks back. Sometimes, I need to literally etch things into my skin (not in a creepy or goth way) to remember them.
Lowering the angstometer
But back to the spiritual epiphony. Putting things on a far-out date in the calendar as a way to “set it and forget it” is not new for me, nor is it new for me to suggest that others do the same.
I remember once, a friend was telling me that she was having ongoing marital problems and really didn’t know what to do. But there were all these important things coming up—her kid’s graduation, a minor surgery, a new roof being installed. She and her husband were in couple’s counseling and were actively working on keeping their marriage together. But her hemming and hawing was still occupying her mind with frequency.
My suggestion for her at the time was to put a date on the calendar for six months out. At that point, she could address how to handle the hemming and hawing. That certainly didn’t mean that she would stop working on the underlying issues; it just meant that she was giving herself permission to put off deciding on next steps. In her case, this was especially useful because of all the stressful things coming up in her life.
There’s something that happens when we calendar away our impatience, our indecision, our hemming and hawing. We are given the freedom to move forward with more clarity and less angst.
My friend’s marriage not only survived, but she and her partner are thriving now. And though there were myriad reasons why they made it through, she still looks back at the “calendar it for later” moment as key to her own sanity throughout that difficult time in her life. She told me that the indecision was playing on repeat in her head, almost like a record skipping. Once she removed that obstacle from her path, she was able to focus on the path itself.
(Sidenote: I’m certainly not saying that everyone’s faltering relationship should necessarily continue, and I’m not saying that continuing equals success. I think plenty of relationships ending is equal to success, not failure, but that’s for another Substack.)
Sometimes, setting it and forgetting it, can be downright magical. For me, this past week, that’s exactly how it played out.
Finding the right fit
Earlier this year, my literary agent and I split ways. The primary reason was that I wrote a YA book and wanted to make the shift to fiction, at least for part of my writing career path. YA was not her focus.
Let’s just say that flying the coop and being agentless was stressful to me, especially at this relatively vulnerable moment in my career when I have two books under my belt, am still very much establishing myself, and want to make a shift as intense as non-fiction to fiction. I’ve been lucky enough to have an agent for many years, and the thought of navigating the publishing world solo was unacceptable to me.
So I started querying agents, which was quite the undertaking—both logistically (I brought on an incredible assistant to help me manage the ridiculous spreadsheet) and energetically. When I didn’t hear back from people (agents being queried are notorious for taking many months to respond) time after time, I questioned whether I was really a writer—and then started spiraling about what the hell to do if my jig was up (before it even really began).
Since the vast majority of connections are made through other connections, despite the fact that I was cold-querying many agents, the one I landed with first was the only one that had been a recommendation from a friend who is also represented by her. This particular agent—let’s call her Ilene for now—had, ironically, been at the very top of my list as my very first choice. I liked her style, her resume, and her unique experience. So when she offered to sign me, I was completely thrilled.
But the issue was this: She was, at the time of signing, interested in me mainly because of a couple of non-fiction projects I have in the works (more on those as they flesh out). Though I had sent her my YA manuscript, she hadn’t yet read it, and therefore couldn’t commit to representing it just yet. (To clarify, when submitting fiction, you write the whole manuscript, but with non-fiction, you write a proposal.)
Mind you, I had been pulling my hair out for months by this point, wondering what would happen to my YA book. I felt this otherworldly connection to my characters and, on some odd level, had the pressing need to introduce them to the world.
Let’s make a date
At this point, it had been at least seven months since I had started the process of trying to get this book some attention, but no one would look. My coach, Kathleen, had heard about this from me over and over again (as had my wife and best friend and possibly some wide-eyed strangers behind me in line at the grocery store).
So Kathleen encouraged me to set a date on the calendar for several months out—I chose September 13—and on that date, we’d discuss what to do if there was still no movement on my YA book. She assured me that this didn’t mean I couldn’t follow up with agents, brainstorm new ways forward, etc. The point of the date was to stop me from spiraling, from hemming and hawing, and from trying to figure out what to do.
Meanwhile, Ilene and I had been corresponding here and there about the YA book, but she was so busy working on contractual stuff for my non-fiction projects that it was understandably taking a backseat (also, she has other clients, as there are more people in this world than just me).
September 13 was quickly approaching and I still had no movement on the book. I put on my calendar a time to discuss it with Kathleen and went about the rest of my work—nearly all of which, lately, has been writing to meet some intense deadlines.
Then, magic happened.
Finally, a way forward
On September 12, I received an email from Ilene saying she’d like to rep the YA book, pending some editorial suggestions she has for me. It was music to my ears when she expressed how much she wanted these characters to have a place in the world, and that this story is one that needs to be heard. (Without giving too much away, the theme of the book circles around sexuality, gender, and animal rights—surprise, surprise.) It was hard to contain my exclamation points when I responded!
The next day—D Day—we got on the phone and I astutely took notes regarding the edits she wanted me to make on the book. I nodded and typed, nodded and typed. The characters I had left behind nine months back reappeared like car keys I had misplaced and then suddenly found. Ah, there they are!
I hung up the phone and stared at the notes I had just taken. That’s when the reality set in. It was September 13 and I finally had a direction for my book! Could the timing possibly be any better?
Eagerly, I withdrew the manuscript from the agents who were still considering it. Some of them wrote back and said they wished they’d gotten to this sooner. They were probably blowing smoke up my ass, but regardless, I felt gratified.
… And silly! The drama (I mean D-R-A-M-A!) I had created in my head—which pretty much included an existential crisis—was for nothing. If only I had listened to Myrtle the Turtle! Slow and steady …
The Universe Box
In twelve-step circles, this kind of kismet—propelled by one’s own actions of letting go—is sometimes referred to as a “God Box.” And yes, I’m an atheist, as are many of the people I’ve met through the program. So call it whatever you’d like—a Universe Box, a Higher Self Box, a Magic Box—but the process and point remain the same: You take a physical box, you write about a situation that is troubling you, and you put it in that box as a way to let go. Countless times, I have heard stories of how this transformed people’s lives—giving them the ability to move on from something that was stuck in their heads like that skipping record.
My calendaring had the same effect, in almost a surreal way. And while I’m definitely not suggesting it will always shake out so synergistically, for people like me who tend to be impatient or want immediate gratification, this tool can be an enormous help.
I hope you try it. I hope the weight on your shoulders lifts. I hope your desires come to be.
Xo,
jazz
P.S. I’ve started coaching again! Read more about the type of people I work with and my experience coaching. Feel free to get in touch, if this calls to you.
P.P.S. Since I’m now including the audio versions of each of these Substack newsletters within the actual post, I’ve stopped my Jasmin’s Jargon podcast. It’s the same exact content, but now it’s all in one place. If for some reason this is annoying for you, please let me know, as I’m very curious about the way all of this Substack stuff is experienced by my readers and listeners. Thanks!
myrtle the turtle!
love it, love you, love all this!