Learning to wait on magic
The thing is, there’s a necessary waiting and anticipation that comes after you launch something into the world. You may have an inkling or dreams, but you have no idea really what the results will be for yourself or others.
For me, the process of writing Late July in July 2023, launching it in January 2024, and then watching it roll out each week has been nothing short of magic. There have been countless synchronicities between the content of each chapter as it is released on a given Sunday, and what’s happening now in my life at that moment. Some of them have brought me to tears, like the death of my little brother Jimbo, just as I honored his last days in one of my first chapters. Some of them have been full of joy, like the move to a new house with my partner-in-life, Ben, just as the chapter Thresholds came out, foreshadowing a new home and new chapter.
Then there have been the notes I’ve gotten from readers, some dear friends and some new acquaintances, telling me how a theme or chapter impacted them in their life right now. This is a magic I have always known as a reader, but never before as an author. The magic of time-travel and the way in which an author can share their story and years, decades later in an entirely different city or country, that story connects with another and brings so much healing or inspiration. The magic of storytelling.
As I write this, I am acutely aware that the last chapter of Late July goes out in the world tomorrow. And the big question looms - what is next? I can’t stop now - now that I’ve gone and called myself an author.
Here is what I’ve concluded for this next season. I want to lean into more magic. I want to take what worked for my own intuitive creative process and repeat it. And see what happens. I want to write daily in a specific time-bound way. Then I want to sit down and type it up and ask it - what are you? How should you be ordered or presented? And then I want to pre-schedule it all on Substack again for a few months of Sunday releases. And let it unfold.
So you may not hear as much from me in the next few months because I am going to be writing. I am going to be near the water, in Austin, or wherever I am traveling - and I am writing daily, from March through May.
I am also hosting a series of creative sessions - where we gather to support each other in our creative endeavors. This work is not easy, and the resistance is loud, and I want to hold space for you to be seen as you do the quiet solo work of creating.
To each of you who are setting a new creative goal, or setting a project back out on the table and beginning again after a long pause - here’s to showing up and learning to wait on the magic.
Always,
Liz