So picture this: I’m standing in a ridiculously long checkout line at Hobby Lobby. The kind of line that makes you question every life choice that led you to this point like, do I really need faux eucalyptus today?
At the time, I had already started the book. You know… the book. The one about a dog who changed everything. But it was half-finished, half-feared, and 100% wandering aimlessly in my head. I didn’t know how to structure it. I didn’t even know if I could finish it. I was questioning everything, right there between Altoids and sharpies (if you know, you know.).
And then I saw it.
In the cart of the woman ahead of me:
A plain and rustic wooden sign.
And loud as hell it said...
WRITE YOUR OWN STORY.
I must’ve looked like I’d seen a ghost or discovered the secret to the universe in someone else’s shopping haul because a few minutes later, when she got to the cashier, she glanced back at me and casually said, “Actually… I’m not going to get that” like she was handing off a torch.
I bought it, obviously. That sign has been with me ever since. I see it every day like a small wooden coach with zero tolerance for excuses. And maybe I’m reading too much into it but I think that moment was meant for me. Like the universe was tired of being subtle. Sometimes you need a good kick in the head like that to set you firmly back on your path.
So here I am. Writing the story. Still scared sometimes. Still editing. Still editing and doubting, but showing up anyway because the sign told me to. And if you’ve got a story of your own to write, or a dream you keep shoving to the back of priorities, I hope you listen for your sign, too.
Mine just happened to come with a price tag in the form of a shelf sitter. 