Leap of faith

Sometimes, you just have to jump! My greatest joys and most arduous trials all began with little to no planning and a leap of faith. I’ve discussed my move to China almost twenty years ago many times in this blog. That jump changed my entire world, mostly for the better. But there were undoubtedly difficulties and brief moments when I regretted the choice- not eating for three days tends to test your resolve.

But those moments pushed my boundaries and allowed me to grow like building a muscle. The fibers tear and become sore. You don’t want to get out of bed the next day, but you must. As you heal, you suddenly realize you’re stronger than before and forget about the pain until you face the prospect of change again. Pushing yourself gets harder as you get older, as it often hurts more, but that means it becomes much more critical. I must tell myself this as I get snug, warm, and comfortable. Throw off that blanket, get off that couch, and venture into the cold unknown, for that is where you find the magic of growth!

On May 31, 2014, my wife and I acted on an impulse. While watching a movie, we looked at a wall that separated our small TV room, breakfast nook, and kitchen and decided we wanted something better. We grabbed a couple of hammers and went to work without thinking of the ramifications. In fact, I think the movie was paused the entire time. Thus began a project that took fifteen months to complete. It was an arduous task that pushed us to our limits, but ultimately ended with a beautiful new kitchen and a feeling of satisfaction we may never recreate in our lives.

That day of spontaneous joy was a moment of no return. After, when we looked down at the pile of plaster that covered our feet, there was a moment where we said, “Oh shit, what did we just do?” My wife captured this realization perfectly in the picture above. Although we dreamed of a larger, more modern kitchen, we hadn’t planned. If you know us, you realize how much of a leap we had just taken. My wife packs for vacation six months in advance! But this was a good thing. It pushed us to a moment of no return. Yes, we hadn’t drawn plans for a layout. We had not considered materials, color schemes, fixtures, or researched appliances. We had yet to think if we had the skills to do the plumbing, electrical, carpentry, or cabinet work. We hadn’t thought about how to dispose of the tons of debris the project created, nor did we have any idea how much dust the remodel would make or how it would get everywhere. We hadn’t thought about living without running water in our kitchen for months. And most importantly, we hadn’t priced out a remodel to see if we could afford the task we now embarked on. But you know what? That’s good because if we had, our better sense would see how much work, expense, and frustration it would be, and we would have continued to watch our movie and lived with our small, dank kitchen with its 1950s stove and particle board cabinetry from the ’70s.

Our great kitchen remodel set off a series of events that took over much of our lives for a year and a half. It led to disagreements, arguments, minor injuries, and unexpected expenses. It brought us together in moments of joy, triumph, and relief and entangled us in frustrations, anger, and despair. Do I regret it? No. Would I embark on a kitchen remodel on my own again? Also, no, but now I know that!

It is all the same for this point in my writing career. As I step into the traditionally published world’s viper pit, with rejections stacking and suggestions of revision mounting, I want to return to the comfort of self-publishing, where I am in complete control. But that is not where the growth lives. Growth thrives in being told you are not good enough and that you need to focus and push your writing to be the best it can be. It’s painful. It’s frustrating. It leads to tired eyes and a mushy brain as you write, re-write, erase, and repeat. Yes, it is a struggle each morning to get out of bed and face the mountain, but in the pain, I grow stronger, taking one step at a time.

Publishers only accept 1-2% of the submissions they receive. Ninety-five percent are rejected outright without so much as a glance. The odds are stacked against me, but I will never know if I have what it takes if I don’t make that leap. If, in the end, I don’t get a publishing deal, I’ll know it is not because I didn’t try. In all likelihood, it will have nothing to do with Koen not being good enough. I’ve already been told several times that I’m a good writer and the story is interesting, but the project was just not for them at this time. If I must accept defeat and self-publish again, it only means the cards were not stacked in my favor this time. It doesn’t mean that for my next project, the door won’t open. In the end, I know I will grow as a writer, as I really already have. Koen will be a better book because of this experience, and I will be more confident that my readers will love it when I send it out into the world. Ultimately, that’s good enough for me.

Cheers!