It was one of those emails I knew I’d tuck away for safe keeping. Standing by the PO boxes in the post office while waiting for triple A to retrieve the set of keys locked in my car, I checked my email. Usually my inbox only consists of LivingSocial promotions that I don’t want or can’t afford. But yesterday, there was an email entitled “Twenties Unscripted” with a heartfelt note from someone who had just finished the book–someone I wouldn’t characterize as my typical reader.
It all sort of felt like the Universe’s way of coming full circle. That same morning I typed a snail mail note to subscribers telling them that all you can hope for as a writer is that your words land in the right hands and shift something for someone. We don’t always know whose hands those will be, what those hands will look like or the texture of life’s fabric that those hands have touched. But, whenever I click publish or stick a stamp on an envelope or sign the front of a book, that is my silent prayer: may these words land in the right hands and shift something for someone.
I guess it’s a tall order for whatever deity I pray to on any given day. It’s a tough charge for me as a writer. It isn’t something I’ve always wanted or considered. But, eventually as a writer you evolve from me to we, from venting to connecting, from just being glad you got something on the page to praying that what’s on the page reaches the right person, at the right time.
Yesterday was proof that my prayer was answered.
Some words are a direct godsend–no call waiting, no interference, no operator and no lost connection. Raw talent is just writing the words that go from God’s heart straight to your hands. Maybe that’s why raw talent has become extinct, because we live in a world weighed down by interference and laden with lost connections.
When it comes to the support I have received, I have learned that people will surprise you in both horrific and fantastic ways. I’ve made grossly inaccurate assumptions about people I thought would never read my work, only to find their faith in me outweighing my own. I’ve bet it all on people who left me high and dry, strung out from the overdose of broken promises. I’ve been wrong more times than I’ve been right when it comes to people, yet somehow I’ve always been loved. Someone has always had my back. I have always been kept. My words have never failed to reach the right hands. Maybe that’s less a testament to people and more to that proverbial amazing grace. But, whatever it is, I will take it.
Maybe there is not any typical reader when it comes to Twenties Unscripted. Maybe that idea of a typical reader connotes some exclusive club and expected set of eyes, both of which choke the universality of good and golden writing. Good and golden writing builds bridges and traverses time. It strips race and gender, age and experience, and instead heightens that fragile and fierce sense of humanity brewing inside each of us. So, maybe there is not a typical reader for me. Maybe there are just words mounted on faith, written with love and sealed with a prayer.
May these words reach the right hands and shift something for someone.