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You’d think arguing over who made the first move would, essentially, be a contest for who wins “Most Desperate”—yet my husband and I have playfully argued over who made the first move in our relationship for a solid eighteen years now. Let me set the scene for you: it’s the summer of 2004, and my friend Robby asks if we can swing by his friend Brett’s house so he can return a video game. No prob, I say, applying a quick layer of lipgloss in the passenger mirror. Once we’re inside making small talk, Brett slyly turns on his computer, at which point I crane my neck and squint my eyes until I can make out his AIM screen name, committing it to memory as if my life depends on it. I message him the minute I get home. (Point, me.) Brett would tell you he logged into AIM in front of me on purpose, so that I’d see his screen name, commit it to memory, and message him when I got home. (A little presumptuous if you ask me, but, whatever. Point, him.) The moral of the story, I suppose, is that we equally pursued each other. “He’s Just Not That Into You” is one of my favorite movies. (I must interject and tell you I watch a wide variety of films and this is filed in the Rom Coms To Watch While Taking a Nap category, not the Oscar-Worthy category—thank you for knowing the difference/not judging me.) If you haven’t seen the movie, the gist is: if a guy isn’t calling you back, he’s just not that into you. If he “forgot” to text you, he’s just not that into you. If he’s dating other women, SPOILER ALERT, he’s just not that into you. I’ve been thinking about this lately, the idea of “playing it cool”—in dating, sure, but beyond that, in our work lives and friendships. In some ways, I think I have always been terrible at playing it cool. A quick scan of my text messages would point to the following: I use far too many exclamation points. I definitely use too many emojis. I regularly tell my friends I love them. I initiate and invite, over and over again, even when nobody can hang out. I don’t really remember when this began, but at some point in the past year or so, my friend Katie and I literally started texting each other, “You’re my best friend.” As if we were nine. As if we had just pinky promised our loyalty to one another and made a pact by the river. As if we had matching BFF lockets hanging around our necks. (We don’t, but we do have these.) Perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit how much those four little words mean to me, but, honestly, I’m not embarrassed at all. I love when Katie tells me I’m her best friend. Just like I love telling Katie that she is my best friend. I love that we don’t care how dorky it is that we regularly communicate about the state of our friendship. I recently traveled to Minnesota to meet with my publishing team for the first time. At some point, someone asked why I chose Bethany House. I say this not to brag, but to provide context: I received multiple offers on Create Anyway. In the end, I chose to publish with Bethany House, and if I had to summarize why, I guess you could say it’s because they didn’t play it cool. I will never forget my initial zoom meeting with Bethany House, in which Deirdre, the marketing director, practically leapt out of her chair. The energy was contagious, electric. Nobody could contain their chill. There was no doubt about it: Bethany House absolutely wanted this book. At the height of the final decision, I went for a long walk and voxed my mastermind group. I broke down the pros and cons of my two top choices, all the what-ifs, a comprehensive list of every concern swirling in my brain. And then I said: I just want to work with a publisher who is so excited about this book, they use way too many exclamation points when they talk about it. As the words came tumbling out of my mouth, I suddenly felt peace. Crystal clarity. One publisher rose to the forefront of my mind. Bethany House. The publisher with zero chill. The publisher who had not, for one second, played it cool. I called my agent, she sent The Email, and Jennifer Dukes Lee—the acquisitions editor—immediately wrote back. Her exact words: “CONSIDERING TURNING CARTWHEELS ACROSS THE LIVING ROOM!!!” But wait. It gets better. At the end of her (lovely, generous) email, this is how she signed off:
~ Jennifer
P.S. -- Pardon all the exclamation points.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There it was. A ladybug in action. An answer to prayer. A wink from God. Within 24 hours of voicing my desire for a publisher who used too many exclamation points—boom, there they were. Literally. Thirteen of them.My son Everett is ten and just now entering the phase of playing it cool. I see it in the little things, the way he stifles his enthusiasm compared to his siblings, the way he casually nods at the cute girl down the street when we ride bikes past her house. This is part of adolescence, I remember. But I hope he grows out of that nonchalance eventually, like I have. Because the art of not playing it cool has led to some really great things in my life. A husband. A best friend. A book deal with a publisher I truly adore. Consider this your friendly reminder: It’s okay to make the first move. It’s okay to go nuts over a really great pasta salad. It’s okay to belt out your favorite song in the car with all the windows down. It’s okay to tell your best friend she’s your best friend. It’s okay to use too many exclamation points. Dare I say—sometimes it’s cool to not play it cool. |
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A Few (Other) Good Things |
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Pssst—I made a thing!
According to the “experts”—one of the best ways to grow your email list (which I am somewhat trying to do because I like email more than Instagram 🥴) is to create a “lead magnet." The first time I heard this advice, I literally did not know what a lead magnet was. And yes, it did take me a full year to make my very own. But hey, here it is! Five of my best hacks for getting out of a creative rut, ta-da!
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Beautiful Words I Read This Month: “So we write, because we hear words touching earth. We fight the blowhard voice of Practical and Useful with a sword in one hand and a pen in the other.” // from Building Temples by Tresta Payne “Because, after all the surgeries and tissue damage and numbness and tightness and physical therapy, I can. Because my kids cannonball off the diving board and for thirty solid minutes I’m alone with my thoughts. Because the neighbor girl told her dad she didn’t know moms could do flip turns. Because we are here and my kids watch and I am so very much alive.” // from Why I Swim Laps at 8pm On A Tuesday Night by Sonya Spillmann “Lean into your own astonishment, your own midsummer Tuesday wonders, pay attention to what sparks your ‘wow’ and curiosity and write that magic down.” // from Writing Toward Surprise by Stephanie Duncan Smith (this is one of my all-time favorite newsletters, fyi!) |
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MEDITATING ON:
And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us.
1 John 5:14 |
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Awkward favor alert: if you love getting these newsletters, would you consider forwarding this to a friend? She can subscribe right here.Until next time, |
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