An A**hole, an Editor, and a Life Coach — Synchronicity

The curious and continuous ebbs and flows of life fascinate me. The idea of synchronicity captivates me even more. I’m enchanted by the possibilities that exist in the right place, right time alignment. It is in this ever-present, unknown knowingness that I find myself seen, heard, loved, and known in the quiet still of my own hope.

The day began with a drive into the city. The highway was bombarded by out-of-town license tags, speeding aggressively past my tank of a Jeep. Their invasive manner reminds me that sometimes, I feel like a stranger in my own town. It’s no wonder, because sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own body, too.

I arrive at my anticipated destination, a Writer’s Workshop. The lobby is full of anticipatory word lovers and prospective authors, all in hopes of gleaning, learning, and perhaps, being discovered by the talent seeking literary agents in attendance.

Chin up, shoulders back, I wandered to the signin table. I try to wear my confidence but I’m shaking inside. What if they find out I’m a fraud? What if this is a waste of time? What if I’m not good enough?

I’m greeted by a smiling volunteer amidst a sleuth of fellow, pushy prospects. I go to approach the table, but am quickly cut off by an unaware stone of a woman. I exhale, take a breath and hold my patience with a gentle smile.

“Sorry, but we don’t see your name here Ms. Autrey. You need to talk to Chad.”

I proceed to where Chad is sitting, he looks up and growls, “What do you need?”

“Name tag, please,” I hesitantly replied. Our initial encounter gave me the clear sense that Chad was a bit of an a**hole.

I make my way into Skyway 1. The room is bursting with anticipating minds and uncertain hearts. I felt reassured; I was not the only one who didn’t know what the f*ck I was doing.

The lectures began, pens down, scribbles in progress, fingernails started tap, tap, tapping away as we stroked our crunchy keyboards.

Hours passed, we’re in the home stretch now. It’s the third lecture. We’re going around the room sharing our current project’s Title and Subtitle. Chad swings his glance my way, “You’re up first!”

It’s quite unnerving to share your vision in a room that size, full of both uncertain bystanders and judgmental ears.

I shared my year-long project title. “What even is that?” Chad scoffed at me. He belittled me. He obliterated my heart’s work, in a moment, publicly. So much so, that the tall, fluffy haired woman sitting behind me started to chuckle. I was reminded of moments growing up when bullies in school made me feel much the same. I was humiliated, beyond embarrassed, but kept my composure nonetheless.

Chad continued his rounds through the room. I waited to see if he’d be that verbally violent with anyone else. Nope, I seemed to have gotten it the worst. Perhaps I needed a slice of humble pie that day. It tasted awful.

As soon as the session ended, I retreated as quickly as I could. I wanted to slip away, disappear. I ripped that name tag off my chest, the one I had so strategically placed over my heart to symbolize the hope I had. I crumbled the sticky paper into a ball and flicked in the trash. I flicked it really, really hard too.

“I’m just glad that’s over with,” I thought to myself.

On my ride back, obvious tears welled up in my eyes. What the f*ck was I doing after all? I had left a very successful career behind to pursue writing full time. I was trying to be a good steward of the time I had. I was trying to learn and glean and grow as best I could as a writer. Maybe Chad was right. Maybe I, in so many words, just sucked. Maybe I wasn’t called to write, or to help, or to teach others how to live well.

I wallowed a bit. Mulled over my thoughts and then did the only practical thing I knew left to do: I prayed.

“God, honestly, I feel so lost. Up until now, I thought I was moving in the right direction. Now, I just don’t know. I need direction. I need a sign.”

My prayer ended. Within moments, I had the dramatic urge to ride my bike to get a glass of wine at the marina. I thought to myself: my day is NOT going to end on Chad’s note.

Getting home, I quickly changed into yogi attire, kissed my husband and my dog, then hopped on my fat tire eBike to trek my way downtown.

My husband and I arrived at our destination, ordered two glasses of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. With a crisp, refreshing, zesty finish, I began to exhale the day. We caught up on things, checked in with each other, and no sooner, the bar around us began to buzz with Friday night excitement. We weren’t the only ones looking to escape the chaos of our day.

A tall blonde approached us and asked if she could squeeze in next to our high top.

“Of course - pull up a seat!”

We exchanged normal bar banter: “Happy Friday! Where are you from? Are those Marcona almonds?” You know, the usual surface encounter.

I kept sipping my wine, trying to distill the experience I had two hours prior. In that moment, a mid-thirty something, I was uncertain about who I was, what I was made for. Chad really rocked my confidence and my world. Asshole…

The “What do you do?” question came up, which I of course, tried to keep quiet on. My husband quickly volunteered that I was a writer, a best-selling author at that! Both Dotsie and her friend Lynn lit up! “Really? What subject matter?” And so, we began chatting beyond the surface into the type of shit that actually matters… matters of the heart that is.

Dotsie was a vibrant, fun character. She had a no-nonsense, matter-of-fact-ness about her. She sipped her dirty martini as the four of us gabbed away. Eventually I learned that Dotsie is an internationally renowned editor, like, a really, really f*cking good one.

Her friend, Lynn, was a Life Coach, a masters level Social Worker and a Mindfulness Specialist. She had a warm nature and a sincerity in her eyes. Lynn’s specific focus for her work? Life Navigation.

I felt like being vulnerable with our two newfound friends, so I shared the experience I had earlier that day. I told Dotsie and Lynn how Chad had made me feel so less-than, so small, so stupid, so unworthy. I was questioning everything, whether to finish my next project, whether to go back to corporate. I really, simply, truly did not know.

Lynn looked over and said, “What are the odds that you’d end up here at this moment, sitting next to one of the best editors in the industry, and me, a life navigation coach? I’d say that’s a sign enough for you to keep going.”

Lynn was illuminating the synchronicity of that moment, the happenstance possibility that brought us all together. How did she know about my prayer earlier that afternoon? The four of us had somehow gathered in the right place, right time alignment. All I wanted on that dreadful drive home was a crisp glass of wine at the marina. All Dotsie wanted was a dirty martini and quality time with a friend. All Lynn wanted was to enjoy her last few weeks in St. Pete. In all of that wanting, we serendipitously landed in those four bar stools next to each other, and I was captivated by the wonder of our chanced meeting.

I felt so seen in that moment, not just by Dotsie and Lynn, but by that little prayer of uncertainty I had prayed before. I was heard, and given the clarity and direction I needed to indeed, keep going.

Fast forward, Dotsie introduced me to one of her mentees, who just so happens to be an editor at one of the Big Five publishing houses. If you’re in the writing world - that almost never happens. This gal has worked on some pretty incredible titles, and now we’re working together on editing my project. What? Talk about synchronicity.

When I take a moment, when I catch my breath, it’s in precious moments like the above experience I’m reminded of the undeniable ebb and flow, and synchronicity to life. Deny it all you want, but there is a flow to life.

We can all relate to the feeling of uncertainty… the what ifs that plague our minds, the hope that is often deferred. The answer may come in years or hours, but when you learn to listen to that inner voice, behind the imposter syndrome, past the uncertainty, beyond the unknown within yourself, you may very well find that your quiet prayers – or hopes – haven’t fallen on deaf ears after all. Indeed, sometimes an A**hole, an Editor and a Life Coach come together to remind you that there’s a wonderful, chaotic synchronicity to life. And to Keep Going, of course. Because you never know who you might sit next to… or how they can change your life.